Original subtitles

Ugh.

I'm dying in here.

This tastes like shit!

As if metastatic cancer isn't torture enough.

What is it, Judy?

Camel milk. Strengthens the immune system.

Not sure how it tastes so disgusting.

It must be healthy.

Erm, use the oven, not the microwave...

Good morning, Ms Roth. I'm Emilia.

I'll be taking care of you today.

Please, let's go through.

In here? No, I can't go in there.

I need privacy, you see?

Don't worry, every infusion station has curtains to ensure just that.

Oh, no, seriously,

I... I need a room of my own.

- There are no private rooms. - I can wait.

I'm sorry, Ms Roth, but we don't have private rooms at all.

Dr Fletcher personally arranged for me to come to this remote location.

He seemed to understand

the importance of maintaining my privacy.

Could you get him, please?

I'm afraid Dr Fletcher's at his London hospital today.

Jesus Christ!

I understand coming here for the first time is extremely difficult.

Dr Fletcher left specific instructions for your care,

and you're in very good hands with Dr Hanson.

Now, if you'll allow me, I'd love to help get you started.

Did you see who that was?

Who?

Bloody hell! What would she be doing here?

I read she was doing a West End play

that opened and closed the same week.

Vicious reviews. Meaner than you on a bad day.

Who is that?

She used to be fucking huge.

Ladies, please, let's have some privacy here, shall we?

Sorry!

It isher!

Don't worry.

I'll speak to them.

They won't talk.

This is a fucking disaster.

Once I'm done, whomever you're here with

- can come sit with you. - It's just me.

- You're here by yourself? - Yes.

But someone will need to take you home.

You're gonna be getting some very strong drugs today.

It's OK, I'll call a cab.

You haven't told anyone?

Can we start, please? I'd like to get this over with.

Ms Roth, chemotherapy's not something

that you can just get over with.

- Your family will notice... - Look, I appreciate it.

I really do. Can we just do this?

Of course. Can you roll your sleeve up for me, please?

Thank you.

Oh.

OK.

OK, we'll start you off with some ondansetron for nausea

and omeprazole for heartburn,

before we move on to the actual treatment,

oxaliplatin and 9-FU.

Here's some more ondansetron for home if you're still nauseated later.

Now, ondansetron might cause headaches,

so here's paracetamol, which might cause weakness,

so here's dexamethasone, which might cause insomnia,

so here's some diazepam.

Diazepam might make you constipated,

so be sure to take the bisacodyl.

In cases of severe diarrhoea caused by the bisacodyl,

here's some sicodium,

and cortisol for haemorrhoids caused by the diarrhoea.

Hair might start to grow where it's not supposed to,

like a beard or a moustache, but it goes away eventually.

Oh, I'd just like to stress,

there's no restriction regarding sexual activity.

Great! Now I just need to find someone who's into bearded ladies.

OK. We're gonna go for a slow drip here...

Can, erm... can we take a break?

Of course.

I'll check in on you later.

If you need anything, be sure to buzz this button here.

You ladies behave. Do you hear me?

What did Annie put in your lunch box today, Mikey?

Erm...

cucumber sandwiches and carrot sticks.

Oh, and... a unicorn sticker.

Judy, we're running a little late...

on your prescription.

I'll drop it off when it's ready.

OK, you, out with it.

Shut up. Leave me alone.

What's up with your hair, anyway?

Oh, dammit.

You know, the cat chews on it in her sleep.

She's ruined it.

I think she thinks it's her mother.

Oh, fuck it.

I'm getting a new one today, anyway.

Oh, that's better.

I prefer going "Baldilocks", to be honest.

It's just, genuinely, it upsets the cat.

Eggheads of the world unite!

Why aren't you picking up?

How's your cold?

I don't really have a cold.

I knew it. I can always tell when you're lying.

I have colon cancer.

And I'm in chemotherapy right now.

What?

Those stomach aches...

Last Wednesday, when you met with the producers,

I went to see Dr Fletcher,

and he said that I could come to this small clinic outside of London

to keep a low profile.

And I didn't wanna worry you,

but they put me in a room with other people,

so I need you to come now.

- Nance! - I'm on my way.

Jesus, Jules!

You didn't wanna worry me?

- Me? - Don't yell at me.

I get it.

I need you to get here. People saw me.

Just stay away from anyone.

But I really need to pee.

And... what, there... there are no bathrooms there?

There are, but they're on the other side of the room,

and I have to walk past all these women.

Who can hear you loud and clear!

Who can hear me loud and clear.

What if they heard everything I said?

- They did! - Judy shh!

Oh... my God!

- Nance... - OK, honey,

look, take a big breath and go pee.

OK? I'll be there as fast as I can.

GASPS

Oh!

I am so sorry. Before you had on your...

I'm a jerk.

Please forgive me.

It's fine. I'm so sorry we scared you.

- We should've given you a heads up. - Don't worry about it.

I'm er... Mikey, by the way.

- Massive fan. - Aww, Mikey!

I really appreciate that.

Fuck me! I can't believe this is happening!

Julia Roth!

In the flesh, standing right here.

This is so cool!

Not that you being here is... is... is cool.

Of course. Erm...

Mikey, if you don't shut up, her bladder's going to explode.

No, no, no, it's fine.

I really appreciate it, Mikey. It's just so sweet.

But I need to, erm...

Go for a whizz.

Oh, for goodness...

Why are you getting so worked up over an old Hollywood has-been?

Julia Roth is not a has-been.

She did that film a few years ago, remember?

The one with what's-his-face, the one in space.

That was terrible.

Yeah. Yeah, it fucking was.

She has such beautiful hair.

Always has had.

Soon she's gonna look like the rest of us.

Julia Roth is never gonna look like us.

- Oh, yes. - Never gonna look like us.

Ugh.

Look, I am... really sorry about before.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Don't worry. You know we're not gonna tell anyone about you being here.

Thank you.

What's wrong with her?

Oh, er, chemo can be a bit tough at times.

A bit?

Judy, can Julia come with us? Please? Please, please, please...

Oh, I can't leave. I'm waiting for my manager.

Oh, we're not going anywhere.

Well, we are, but we're not leaving.

You'll see. Just give me your hand.

Don't mind me while I'm suffering here.

It's OK, I promise. It's gonna be fun.

Oh, God, so soft.

Oh! Nice tattoo.

- Mikey, shut up. - Sorry.

OK, here we go. Er, close your eyes.

OK, Judy, where are we?

We're on a beautiful island

in the middle of a rainforest.

There's a light wind. A tender wind blowing.

I can feel it. So nice!

Shh! Mikey!

Just listen to the animals in the distance.

Now...

I'll tell you what we're going to do.

Judy, wait. We've lost Julia.

I've got to go back.

JUDY SIGHS

Poor Julia. You must think we're crazy.

I'm just... wondering what's in your IV pack.

I wish!

No, it's just a little thing we do to take our minds off the pain.

But it works.

It's like a game, like make-believe, like pretending.

Like acting.

Shh, Judy.

- So sorry. She's in a lot of pain. - OK, we will be there soon enough.

OK...

We take a deep breath in.

And let it slowly out.

Let every muscle in your body relax,

from your eyebrows to your toes.

OK. We're back on the island.

There's no beeping of monitors.

No hissing of fluorescent lights.

No dreadful moaning. It's all gone...

far, far away.

All you can hear is the sound of waterfalls...

and animals in the forest behind.

Now, that's better.

Welcome to Judy's holiday.

Where the sun never shines,

and where Judy bosses us all around.

Well, come on, ladies.

Chop chop! We haven't got all day.

Wait for me!

Don't slip.

No, thanks.

Quiet! You'll scare it away.

Scare what away?

Look, here's the plan. Mikey, you grab it.

Imaan, you hold the knife.

- Jesus! - Don't worry.

- We don't kill it. - Kill what?

And don't worry about the poison. That is what ignites the healing.

Poison? Can we go back now?

Are you missing chemo already?

What do you think's in that IV bag? Tea?

OK, meanie.

You tell me right now what is bothering you today.

Hey, maybe we should just give her some space.

Chop chop! Let's get on with it.

This is how you relax from chemo?

You don't know Judy.

You don't know chemo!

Hi. Hello.

- Hey. Where's the blue dummy? - What, you can't find it?

I've looked everywhere. He won't take anything else.

Maybe try the, er... you know the third drawer...

- Yeah, wait, wait, don't hang up. - Yeah, go look. I'll wait.

I swear to God...

It's an old tribal ritual.

You apply the frog's venom into an open wound,

and it makes the body so sick that it...

purges the toxins.

Mikey!

First, you tell me what's up with you today.

Fine.

Promise me you won't get excited. OK?

I had a CT scan this morning.

My tumour might be shrinking. I'm still waiting for the results.

Oh, my God! Judy, that's so exciting!

Mikey, dammit!

Oh, shit! Sorry.

OK, call me if you find it. Yes, I'm so sorry.

Abed can't find that blue dummy and the baby won't fall asleep...

Jesus Christ!

Could we, once, just once,

focus on catching that bloody frog?

This is my holiday.

And it's gone.

Again.

Don't move.

Imaan.

Yoo-hoo!

Ladies?

Coming through!

- Joey! - The one and only.

- Did you get it? - Oh, yeah. I've got it right here.

Oh, I think I am in actual love with you.

Barking up the wrong tree, dear.

Julia? Julia Roth?

No, you're confused.

Oh, come on, I'd recognise that beautiful hair anywhere.

It's Joey. I did your hair on that Jane Austen movie.

It was years ago.

Right. That's right.

What are you doing here?

- Oh, no. No. - No. Research.

For a new role.

Wait, what's in your IV?

- Vitamins. - Vitamins?

Vitamins.

Oh, phew!

Thank God! I nearly wet my knickers.

I thought, "Oh, no, no, please! Not Julia Roth! No!"

What a relief.

Isn't it?

Well, let's get you into character right away.

Oh.

No, Joey, I'm not sure that's such a...

- Is it? - No!

Yeah, let's do it.

I gave up the film business years ago.

I got tired of waiting for the gigs, surviving the dry months.

But here it's always pouring.

I mean, this job is so dynamic. The customer turnover is amazing.

Hold still.

I could swear you were dying.

What the hell?

Jules... what have they done to you?

- Relax, Nance. - Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!

You think that's funny?

OK, er... meet and greet is over. Everyone back off.

Hey. Found it?

No. It's quite the drama.

Yeah, there's his mobile with, like, dolphins.

- Yeah... - Out of battery.

- Oh. OK... - You.

Who are you talking to?

- Keep your hair on, missus! - Hello?

- No-one cares. - Hello?

OK, bye.

Yeah, so get that one. That puts him to sleep...

Now... who else knows? The kids?

Oh, God, no. And you can't tell them.

What...?

You're supposed to FaceTime Cassie later.

She wanted to see your dress at the fitting today.

Oh, God! No, the fitting...

Shit, Nance!

Cass can't know about this before the wedding.

I'm not gonna tell Nate either.

Just tell her I don't feel well. No, don't do that.

Tell her I have to work, or...

Jules... relax.

I'll deal with Cassie.

So...

I did some research, and once we get back to the US,

there's a doctor you have to see in New Mexico

who's also a shaman.

She developed this, erm, herbal therapy.

It supposedly crushes cancer cells.

Something with turmeric...

- It's sage, actually. - It's not sage, it's thyme.

Can't believe they didn't let you have your own room.

That's what I need you to fix, Nance.

And no New Mexico shaman.

You know I can't stand turmeric.

It might be sage.

And I'm not gonna go back to LA.

What, so they can high-five Julia Roth

for having her West End play killed

and getting colon cancer in the same week? No.

I'm gonna stay here, away from the press and everyone,

and then, when this is all over...

I'll fly back to LA in time for the wedding.

Screw that piece-of-shit West End production.

Good riddance.

Now you'll have time to prep for the pilot.

What pilot? Hello?

Well, you... you mean they won't hire you cos you have cancer?

- Right. - Wrong.

They could never not hire you cos you have cancer.

That would make them...

What's that word for racist against cancer?

- Cancerist. - Cancerist?

And no-one wants to look like a cancerist.

No-one knows what a cancerist is.

And no, you're not gonna tell the network.

Not the network.

The world.

- What are you talking about? - You wanted me to fix this.

Not only are we not gonna hide it, we... No, you...

will be sharing your journey with the public.

You'll be the face of cancer.

Providing hope and inspiring millions of patients

across America and around the world...

The face of cancer?

I'm talking about your long-overdue memoirs,

with a new ending chapter titled "How I Beat Cancer".

You're talking about using my cancer as a comeback?

Am I that desperate?

God... No, no, Nance.

I told you not to say comeback. You never left.

And we'll wait till after the wedding.

Of all the crazy ideas...

Thank me next year in your Emmy acceptance speech.

Well... first I have to get the part.

Oh, gimme a break!

Sharon told me the reading was just a formality,

the Kate part is practically yours.

You mean Lauren. Kate's the neighbour.

She's only in one scene.

You are fucking kidding me.

Those fucking assholes!

Jules, I'll fix this.

I promise.

Either way, they're asking you to dye your hair.

Well... next month, there'll be no hair to dye.

Excuse me? Some privacy, please?

Ms Roth, today's entr�e is now served,

oxaliplatin.

Also, it's time for doctor's rounds.

Dr Handsome, too?

Yes, Mikey, Dr Hanson, too!

How is this silly joke still alive?

Chemotherapy.

Who's Dr Hanson?

Oh, he's a star.

Captain Chemo! Smexy as hell.

He's our very own Julia Roth.

There's only one Julia Roth!

And I'm gonna get her her own room!

Actually, when I'm done, you'll have your own goddamn wing.

Thank God you're here, Nance.

I got this, Jules.

Face of cancer, seriously?

I'm picking up some very good vibes.

What on earth are you talking about?

Good morning. How is everyone?

- Cool. - Shit.

- I'm fine. - Oh, good. Sounds like usual.

I hope they're not distracting you from your studies?

No, they're not, but my chemo brain is.

Wait, Doc?

What about Judy's results?

Ah, yes, we're still waiting on that.

And that is completely OK,

because we already know that they are good.

Dr Hanson, have you met your colleague, Dr Good Vibes?

Professor Good Vibes, please. Enchant�e.

That's a really nice wig, Professor Good Vibes.

Thanks, Doc!

- Good morning, Ms Roth. - I've had better.

I can imagine.

We'll try to make this as comfortable as possible,

under the circumstances.

- Now, Dr... - I've also had worse.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Never mind.

Julia Catherine Roth, 58 years old...

Well, you know, the secret to staying young...

- live honestly, eat slowly and... - Lie about your age.

Lucille Ball.

Never mind. Erm...

can we continue, please?

Colonoscopy and PET/CT shows

stage 4 metastatic colon cancer... - Jesus!

Oh, fuck!

Adenocarcinoma originating from the colon,

with multiple metastases in liver and lung.

Receiving neoadjuvant therapy.

- May I say something? - Yes, Ms Roth.

I need you all to keep my being here today to yourselves.

Right. Well, rest assured that we will, Ms Roth.

Dr Blake.

Candidate for right hemicolectomy, left hepatectomy

and radiofrequency ablation of lung metastases.

First-line therapy ideas?

- We have... - Excuse me.

My manager has non-disclosure agreements for you all to sign.

You too, Dr Handsome.

Hanson.

Dr Hanson.

Ms Roth, erm...

I'm not sure what you're accustomed to,

but here, we doctors are discreet about all of our patients.

Regardless of who they are or what we sign.

- Well, I just... - Any questions about your treatment?

Yes.

I need my own room.

Well, Ms Roth, I assure you, in this country,

we deeply appreciate the need of a room of one's own.

But this is a public hospital

and we are unable to provide one.

But what we are able and very determined to provide

is the best possible medical care for you.

Now, do let us know if you have any...

medical matters that you wish to discuss with us.

OK. Thank you.

Moving on.

Ladies.

Oh, God.

What a dick!

Who does he think he is?

I haven't cried since last Wednesday,

and now this smug, asshole, piece-of-shit doctor...

He's a very good doctor.

Medical questions, my ass!

Who could understand a word they said?

They do that on purpose.

God, Nancy!

Where the fuck are you?

Fuck! Fuck!

- Hey. - Hey, Abed, did he fall asleep?

I've already tried everything. He won't go down.

Oh, no, I just... I just...

found the dummy in my pocket, so...

- Thank God! - Yeah. I'm so sorry.

Erm, yeah, just come. I'll give it to you.

OK. Sorry.

So how many stages are there?

Er...

What do you mean?

When they said stage 4, you all groaned.

So, it's... four out of how many, exactly?

Well?

Maybe you should speak to Emilia.

Didn't your doctor give you the talk?

He did.

He told me I had cancer and I fainted.

And then I went back to the hotel...

turned off my phone and...

self-medicated,

with a month's supply of antidepressants

and a case of vodka.

So... how many stages are we talking about?

Look, it's just numbers, OK?

It's all about your spirit, which can't be graded, right?

Well... what are your numbers?

- 3C. - Oh, there's letters, too.

Yes, I... I'm 3A.

At least... until my scan results come back.

- 2B. - Oh, I'm in the lead.

All I get are supporting roles these days.

We love you, Julia.

I appreciate that.

So, erm...

there's no stage 5, huh?

Well, how do I know if I'm 4A or 4D?

There's only one four.

I see.

Wow! Aren't you one lucky gal!

No private rooms, my ass!

Tell that to your new, beautiful, private room,

thank you very much, yeah, that's right.

OK, Jules, let's get you outta here.

I got your bag, your jacket.

Oh, I got you some tea.

There's a lady outside giving it away for free.

Honestly! I don't get the healthcare system here.

So bizarre.

Let's go, Jules.

Just got off the phone with Hugh.

I didn't say anything. Just feeling the water.

They'd love to have you on.

Come. Come see your new suite.

OK. Here we go.

I talked to Sharon at the network.

The Kate part isn't small.

It's a cameo. They wrote it with you in mind.

That's why it's the funniest one.

Hey. This is a nice room.

Jules?

I can't stay in this room.

What? Why?

It stinks.

Seriously, I can't smell anything.

I don't know, maybe it's the chemo.

Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry.

I'll fix this. I'll get new a new room right away.

Don't forget your tea.

No place for fainters on this front.

You certainly raise the bar for being tough, Judy.

Fuck a duck! Did you hear the surgeries they've got her down for?

That's not surgery, it's butchery.

Well, she has stage 4.

I mean, there might not even be any...

point in operating... I know...

Let's hope they find out before they open her up.

Yeah. I just hope she gets through the day all right.

Listen, what we said, it's really not that bad.

Especially if you believe in karma and the power of the mind to create.

I don't.

So...

tell me about the butchery.

Oh, don't be so dramatic.

It's just a few surgeries.

I've had my uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes,

spleen and gallbladder removed.

My mouth's practically connected to my arse.

Which explains all the shit coming out of it.

Plenty more where that came from, darling.

I got us a new room. Come smell it.

Never mind. I don't need a room.

Well, of course, you do. We can't risk more people seeing you.

Nance, no-one cares.

Oh, come on, Jules. This is ridiculous.

Well... whatever you want.

Oh! It's, erm... It's Harriet's last chemo session.

Oh, it's today? I'm gonna cry.

- Let's go. Come on, Julia. - Come on.

Erm, don't worry, we'll keep our distance.

Brrrrrrr!

Harriet!

There she is.

Harriet!

That's you next week, Judy!

OK, what are we all gonna wear?

Don't jinx it!

Of course, I'd love to hear that bell again.

"Again"?

Wait, you've been here before?

Oh, yeah. Four times.

- Me, too. Twice. - Still working on my first.

But you're both back?

Yeah. And soon enough, we'll be back there.

- Ringin' that bell. - Inshallah. Can't wait.

You know, Annie's already picked out our matching outfits.

Of course, she has!

What's wrong, Jules?

I got cancer.

Funny girl, aren't you?

I wanna call Cassie, make sure she got my text.

Wait, what time is it in LA?

Nope. Still too early for Cassie.

Wait, you two a couple?

- Aw, that's so lovely! - No.

Jules was married to my brother years ago.

And Nancy's my compensation for that marriage.

Strictly platonic.

So why the tattoos?

Oh, it's kinda silly.

We got them for our 40th birthday.

Well... my 40th.

I was devastated, and Nancy came up with this idea

of tattooing a circle for each decade to celebrate our growth.

- Like trees. - Like trees.

So... that's our 40th...

and our 50th...

and... still counting.

Did I mention we were really drunk?

Well, I think it's beautiful.

That's the network, folks. I'll be right back.

Oh, Nance, I don't wanna do it. Please.

Nancy Green. Just a second.

Just starting a conversation. That's all. No commitment.

- Dr Ambrose? - Yes. Hi, Ms Green.

Thanks for calling me back.

Look, about your friend's situation...

- Er, yes, it's sad. - ..I'm not going to lie.

We're talking a 7% chance of recovery here, realistically.

But you don't know her. She's a fighter.

- I'm sure she is... - If anyone can land in...

that 7%, it's her.

Ugh.

Are you OK?

It's just pain.

We're old mates.

Here we go.

Judy hates that I don't hate the pain.

I just reckon it's there for a reason, so...

there's no point ignoring it.

"Ignore it". I say kill it!

Mikey?

Do you want to go on holiday?

- Hell, yeah. - OK.

Come on.

Where are we?

In the happiest place on earth.

Not again!

Judy would whack me for saying this,

but if you choose to accept it, cancer can be a gift.

Does it come with a gift receipt?

I mean it.

Well, it certainly helps you get your life priorities straight.

And then you die.

No-one's dying!

At some point, you're gonna have to stop resisting

and start accepting.

What's so damn great about accepting?

Mikey? Mikey, I cannot keep on coming on holiday with you.

I've got other patients to care for.

I'm sorry, Doc.

And also, I'm very concerned about your drug consumption.

Why is he a dick even in your fantasy?

I have man issues.

Me, too.

Mum?

Mum!

Mum!

Are you OK?

Mum!

- Mum! - Annie!

Mum!

Annie!

- Mum? - Annie!

- Annie! - Mummy?

- Annie! Annie! - Mummy?

- Annie! - Mummy?

- Annie! - Mummy?

Ali?

Ali?

Hey. Sorry, I just...

No, it's OK.

Hey. So sorry Mummy took your dummy.

I'm so sorry.

Silly Mummy. Hello, Ali.

Sama...

Oh, they called from school, on our way here.

She's a little feverish.

And she knows she mustn't get too close to Mummy and her friends.

It's OK, she's been really brave about it.

- Like a real big girl. - Hey.

So sorry, my darling.

It's not your fault, OK?

It's Mummy's fault.

It's no-one's fault.

Sama, life sometimes gets a little shitty, you know?

Oh, erm... er, this is Julia Roth.

- You probably recognised her. - No, I'm a new patient.

- Hi. - Nice to meet you.

I hope you get better soon, sweetheart.

- We should go. - Yeah.

- We'll come pick you up later. - OK.

Oh, no. No, let Sama rest.

Annie and I will drop Imaan off.

We're taking Judy, anyway.

It's our chemobile.

- Yeah, it's fine. - OK.

That'd be really nice, thank you.

Hey, listen to me.

When you feel better, weare going to do something really nice.

OK?

Just you and me.

I love you.

OK.

Yeah. OK.

It's just a little bit of temperature.

She'll be fine by tomorrow.

Yeah.

Yeah, but then the baby will get it and...

I'll have to stay in bed for a week so I don't get an infection.

There's my Bar exam.

Abed will have to take care of them all by himself.

And by the time everyone's healthy again, I'll...

I'll forget that I promised Sama our one-on-one time

and she won't mention it because she knows she needs to be... brave.

And to behave like a big girl.

She's five.

Sometimes life can be really shitty.

You feeling sick or... acid reflux?

It's awful.

- Poor love. - The awful hasn't even started yet.

Nurse Emilia gave me something for it but I don't know what it was.

Doesn't matter.

Couldn't help, anyway.

Sorry.

God!

How do you guys do it?

We go on our holidays.

- Do you want to try? - I don't know how.

Oh, that's OK. We'll show you how.

Right, so where do you want to go?

Bet you know some dreamy places.

Now, don't overthink it.

Hey. Close your eyes.

OK.

Relax all your muscles.

Now take a big breath.

You girls want to see dreamy?

Woo hoo! Bonjour!

Go, girl!

Julia!

Give us a smile, Julia!

- You look gorgeous today! - Julia!

- Julia! - Julia!

- Julia. - These holidays are meant for you.

Yeah, don't waste them on impressing us.

- Julia! - Julia!

BIRDS CHIRPING

Oh.

You may now kiss the bride.

- This is where I really wanna be. - Oh, Julia, this is lovely. Really.

Oh, she's gorgeous.

I can't believe they started without me.

Oh, Cass!

Cass! Sweetheart! Cass!

Nance! Nance!

Nurse.

Nurse.

Nurse.

Nurse!

- Jules, are you OK? - What's the matter Ms Roth?

I want to stop treatment.

What?

I wanna go home. That's where I wanna be right now.

Oh, thank God!

OK, I may have already booked a flight to LA.

And we can get you admitted into Cedars-Sinai right away.

No. You don't understand.

I don't wanna do chemo in LA.

I'm quitting chemotherapy.

Altogether. I just wanna go home.

What did you say to her?

It doesn't have anything to do with them. It's me.

Please, disconnect me.

I don't understand. What happened?

I got a peek down the rabbit hole, and I want out.

Ms Roth, what you're going through is typical for a first treatment.

- Typical, Jules. - Trust me. Once you get used to it...

- Gotta get used to it, Jules. - I don't want to.

That's the whole point. Please. Disconnect me now.

I can't. Not without Dr Hanson's order.

Are you kidding me? That jerk?

Or we can forget about the whole thing and you'll be finished in...

- less than three hours. - Sounds good. Let's do that.

- Get him. - Don't get him.

- Get him. - Jules, listen to me...

May I please see Dr Hanson, now?

- No, you may not. - I'm not playing this game.

I have to get the doctor if that's what the patient wants.

That's what she wants.

Keep an eye on her.

Chemotherapy won't cure me.

But it'll buy you time.

Time spent on chemo,

buying more time to spend on chemo. It's like a Ponzi scheme.

Time for scientists to make breakthrough discoveries.

Like that cancer-crushing turmeric?

I thought it was sage.

Look, either way, science is advancing.

All the time. And chemo, it gives you more time.

How much?

- Could be years. - How many?

- Ten? - Ten is maybe a bit optimistic.

Five?

- Let's say three. - Let's.

And without treatment?

A year. At best.

Can I suggest you think about it, take a little bit more time?

What the fuck, Jules?

I can't do it, Nance.

Yes. You can.

I've been talking to Dr Ambrose at Cedars-Sinai...

What?

I... I told you not to tell anyone.

Jules, you gotta let me fix this, please.

You can't fix stage 4 cancer, Nancy.

You can't even fix my casting calls.

That was a cameo.

Bullshit!

I literally don't have time for bullshit.

I can't do it.

The night Cassie was born, you also said,

"I can't do it, Nance."

And you did.

And now that baby's getting married,

and soon enough, she'll have her own baby.

Who'll need their grandma.

Grandma?

What are you talking about, Nance? I'm not gonna be anyone's grandma.

OK. I'm calling your shrink.

Please don't.

- I actually feel quite uplifted. - Oh, you feel uplifted?

Yes.

And powerful.

I'm not resisting, I'm accepting.

Damn true what they say about cancer. It gets your priorities straight.

If that's what you want.

It is.

I better call Dr Ambrose.

- Tell him we're holding off... - Not holding off, Nancy.

We're calling the whole thing off.

- OK? - OK.

That was not what I meant.

Aren't you scared?

I wish I could say I wasn't.

Then do something about it, coward.

I'm not a coward.

What's the matter? Is this too hard for you?

Are you scared, you wanna go home? Well, tough shit, missus!

Welcome to cancer.

Judy...

You know, my doctor only gave me two years, two years!

That was six years ago.

Every new drug on the market,

every clinical trial,

every surgery...

I decided that I would be my cancer's cancer.

And by the time I'd finished,

my cancer's gonna I wish it was dead.

I have stage 4.

For me, it's not a matter of if, it's when and how.

And as lovely as you ladies are...

and you are lovely...

This isn't how I wanna spend the time I have left.

Well... how do you want to spend it?

Well, I can tell you one thing.

I'm gonna eat 25 years' worth of carbs.

I'm not joking.

OK, so this is so great. So you grab a sponge cake

and then you come back here to have your chemo.

No.

There's so much more.

I know.

One last grand love affair.

Just like in the movies.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

God, no! I've had enough love affairs to last three lifetimes.

But you know what I wouldn't mind?

One last first kiss.

Or not even the kiss, the moment right before the kiss.

You know, when you get all kinda tingly inside

and you get butterflies in your belly.

And you feel like just a tiny bit queasy.

Oh, God, I would love to have that feeling again.

If you enjoy being queasy...

I suggest you seriously reconsider quitting chemo.

But what I really wanna do is...

spend time with my children.

Not doing anything special.

Just... hangin'.

So, Judy, how about you? What are you gonna do?

Eh?

If next week is your last chemo, if it's your last session.

Wow!

This is genuinely the first time I've ever seen Judy speechless.

Hey, it's OK. You have plenty of time to plan some wonderful things.

OK?

Nurse Emilia?

Nurse Emilia, where is Dr Hanson?

Attending an emergency, a real emergency, Ms Roth.

- Your agent's in the cafeteria. - She's my manager,

and I don't need her, I want Dr Hanson.

Don't we all, love!

What will your kids say about you quitting chemo?

Erm...

I hope they'll understand.

Losing your mother is sad but natural.

I mean, what else have I got to give them

if not a happy memory of me?

Millions of dollars, real estate, royalties.

OK. But besides that.

I've got nothing to leave Annie except a wig-eating cat

and breast cancer genes.

And debts.

And she's got accepted onto this PhD programme in Edinburgh.

It's like a really good one, apparently.

But she's turning it down so she can stay home and look after me.

I know I should tell her she doesn't need to but... I haven't.

Forget it. She's not going.

Easier to separate conjoined twins.

You think you know everything.

You know, before cancer...

Annie hadn't spoken to me for five years.

- What? - What?

Seventeen to twenty-two, not a word.

She moved into a friend's house in the next street.

Why? What had you done to her?

I'm sorry.

Oh, I've got the full house of excuses.

You know, I was a single mum, I was young.

I didn't particularly change my lifestyle when I had her.

I just...

I just wasn't that into it.

I wasn't into her. Just...

wasn't into being Annie's mum.

I know it sounds awful.

But then the universe threw me one last lifeline.

A lump in my breast,

that gave us both a second chance.

Cancer worked a kind of tragic magic.

And I love it.

I know I should tell her to go to Edinburgh.

And yet I still don't tell her.

I guess once a shit mum...

Maybe... she's not doing it for you.

Shitty mum or not, you're the only mum she's got.

Maybe she wants to spend time with you.

Well said, Ms Roth.

You know, watching all you mums makes me feel almost fortunate.

I'm no-one's burden.

So I'm guilt-free.

And when I go...

I'm not abandoning anyone.

Oi.

What about us?

Right, Imaan?

Oh, honey!

Sweetheart, are you OK?

Come on, ladies.

Breathe in.

And out.

Abed?

Sama?

They found my tumour on a routine pregnancy check-up.

So, thanks to being pregnant, I was diagnosed relatively early.

Usually, I never make time to go to the doctor for my own check-ups,

but I did it for the baby, and...

it's what saved my life. A miracle.

Inshallah.

So God giving you cancer while pregnant at 26...

is God miraculously saving your life?

Mm.

Oh, you think I don't have questions.

Because I do.

Every night before I fall asleep... if I fall asleep...

I lie awake and ask God all kinds of questions.

Is this a test?

And if so, is it personal or more like a random survey?

And why are my children to blame?

You know... you know?

Sorry.

But I can't just stop loving God because I got sick.

It doesn't work that way.

And now, more than ever, whenever I'm scared or...

or I'm in pain, I have no greater comfort than my faith.

And miracles happen.

Here we go with the miracles again.

Can you help me out, Judy?

I was born in Auschwitz.

Three months before liberation.

And do you know what the odds were for a baby to survive in Auschwitz?

The odds for a healthy adult surviving in Auschwitz...

was half a percent.

Half a percent!

And a baby's odds were a tenth of that.

One tenth of half a percent.

There's no such number.

Yet here I am.

Maybe miracles do happen.

Damn, Judy!

Now anything I say is gonna sound stupid and childish.

So? Never stopped you before.

Oh, no, not here. It's your holiday.

You can't keep on doing everything.

They'll be just fine without you.

That's exactly what I'm scared of.

- Hey. - Everything OK?

- Yeah, yeah. You got a minute? - Yeah, no, it's fine.

You said to call when I'm making lunch.

- Yeah, er, get the eggs. - The eggs...

There you are.

- I've been waiting for you. - Sorry, Ms Roth. Just a moment.

Ms Schwartz...

- Can we, erm? - Come on, Doctor, spit it out.

It's still growing, isn't it?

It's not growing.

I knew it.

- Is it shrinking? - Yes. It is.

Significantly.

And if the shrinkage continues according to our predictions,

and I don't see why it won't...

then in two weeks, Judy, you can be out of here.

Judy, congratulations.

What did I tell you?

Woo hoo! Go, Judy!

Judy?

Ms Schwartz, are you all right?

Hey, hey, hey. It's OK.

Did you hear what Dr Hanson just said?

Your tumour's shrinking.

You did it.

You did it.

Well, what did you expect?

Bloody tumour! No idea who it was dealing with.

- Poor thing. - She's back.

Congrats, Judy.

Oh, thank you, Julia.

Yes, Ms Roth?

Yes. I'm finished, too.

I wanna stop chemotherapy. Right now.

OK, OK.

Erm... right. Erm...

Can we...?

Come on, Doc. What are you waiting on?

Disconnect me.

I'll put it into words that you can understand.

If you quit chemo, you'll regret it.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow,

but soon and for the rest of your life.

Well...

it's a good thing the rest of my life is only gonna be one year.

Sorry to interrupt. Dr Hanson, the consent form

we all signed before starting chemo says that

patients can stop treatment at any time.

It does?

- Is that true? - Why are you helping her?

You know what quitting means for her.

Yeah, well, it is her legal right.

Yes, it is. Thanks.

Yes, and it's also your right to have your doctor

make sure you're not putting your life at risk.

- My life is at risk. - Yes, exactly.

Exactly, and in a situation like this,

it's very normal to have feelings of anxiety and fear,

- as you must be feeling... - No, no.

Don't you give me your bedroom-eyes, soft-voice, sexy-accent thing.

That might work on them, but I simply do not have time for that.

I have stage 4 cancer.

Yes, I'm aware of that, yes.

But even at your stage, you can afford another half an hour

- just to think things through. - But it's my right.

And it'll still be your right in 30 minutes.

- Wait. No! - I'll come back then,

- and we can discuss it. - No, you gotta disconnect me!

Come... Fuck him!

Who the hell does he think he is?

- Hello? - Barnie.

- Who is this? - Julia.

Julia, what time is it?

Listen carefully. I'm being held against my will

at the Grove Memorial Clinic,

attached to highly-toxic chemotherapy by Dr Ben Hanson.

- Julia, are you joking? - No, I'm not joking.

I need you to call your London office and have someone sent over here.

- What are you doing? - Get Emilia.

You could get Dr Hanson fired.

Fired? I'm gonna get him thrown in jail.

What are you talking about?

He is saving our lives.

I thought that was God?

Please don't talk to her like that.

You spoiled, ungrateful...

Hollywood has-been, yeah, I know I heard you before.

- Well, guess what... - What's going on?

Thank goodness! She's gone completely nuts.

If you don't disconnect me now, I swear I'm gonna make sure...

Your agent asked us not to do anything

until she gets hold of your shrink.

- What are you talking about? - It's her manager.

- Oh, right, sorry. - Fuck that!

What did she say? Tell me.

That you'd been emotionally fragile

and consumed a large dosage of tranquillisers

and alcohol over the weekend,

and have a history of mental instability...

Who did she talk to?

Well, me, Dr Hanson, the hospital trust...

and the tea lady, I think.

Regardless, we strongly advise

against terminating treatment mid session.

I'm here, Jules.

I begged Hanson to come but that jerk is just...

I'll get Dr Hanson.

You told them I was mentally unstable?

Jules, calm down...

What, are you mad at me for messing up your comeback plans?

I told you not to stay comeback. You never left.

I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you.

- What? - Look at you.

All in your element again.

Phone calls, media exposure,

talking to my doctors behind my back, just like the good old days.

My cancer's the best thing that's ever happened to you.

OK, you are crazy.

I'm not crazy. I made a choice.

It's a stupid choice.

One that you'll regret by tomorrow.

If not this afternoon.

Who are you to decide?

Who am I to decide?

Are you kidding me?

Where have you been for the past three decades?

Who am I?

I'm the one cleaning up,

after every stupid, childish, irrational choice you make,

that's who I am, you self-centred lunatic.

I'm the one who goes, "I'll fix it, Jules,"

then runs backstage to do damage control

and pick up the pieces after Hurricane Julia.

I'm the one who flies down to Cabo on your wedding night,

after you've sobered up.

And I'm the one taking care of the annulment

and handling the press

while making sure you don't OD over it.

I'm the one who goes to Nate's parents' weekends

so that you don't miss an award ceremony,

and spend that entire weekend talking him into forgiving you.

Yeah. Oh, and of course, I'm the one

who gets a tattoo for her 40th birthday...

at fucking 37.

That's who I am. And that's why I get to decide

that quitting chemo is the most batshit-crazy and delusional idea

you ever came up with and that we're not doing that.

Bullshit.

You're just scared of me leaving.

You're scared of being alone.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

Of course, I am, you idiot. I'm terrified.

Well, you don't get to be terrified.

I'm the one who's dying of cancer.

Not you.

Stop feeding off of my drama.

And get a life.

You leech.

Fuck you.

Go ahead.

Kill yourself.

SOBBING

SOBBING

Do you want to try going on holiday again, Julia?

Hm?

Come on.

Where are we?

I don't know, Mikey.

Seems to me...

you're in a chemo room for the third time...

fighting a disease that keeps coming back,

stuck with a Hollywood has-been,

who just wants to get the hell outta here.

Nope. That's not it.

So what were you saying about eating 25 years' worth of carbs?

It's beautiful.

Thank you.

Oh!

Look at that!

Do you think she's gonna be OK?

Yeah, give her a moment.

Carbs can cure anything.

Except cancer.

Oh, my God!

What did I tell you?

You really are Dr Good Vibes.

So why did you stop making movies?

You think stage 4's terminal?

You should try being a woman in Hollywood over 50.

- So sorry. - Me too.

But if it's over...

- thisis the way to go. - Right?

Oh, my gosh!

I love those.

I used to look at them in Paris all the time.

What?

How did you...

Guess I'm one stubborn leech, huh?

You know, we could really do with that Nancy leech

for our next frog expedition. Don't you think?

Here you go.

- Do you take sugar? - Do I take sugar?

This wasn't the plan, Jules.

That was the plan.

And I need you to stick with it.

Add those circles up.

But on your birthday, not mine.

I insist, Nance.

You insist? So I'm supposed to follow your orders even when you're dead?

Talk about leeches, Jules!

Fuck you. Call it a dying wish.

That's what it's called, is it? And also fuck you.

There is something I, erm...

really do need you to do for me, Nancy.

What's that?

I need you to be the grandmother.

Jesus, Jules.

You know...

every kid needs a wacky grandmother.

And Jack's mum is just way too straight.

Are you insane?

You told them that I'm holding you hostage?

- Listen up, buddy... - Nance.

I've got this.

Yes. You're holding me against my will,

and these are my chains.

All right, enough of the drama. This isn't one of your films.

If it were, they'd totally kiss at the end.

- Is everything OK here? - I insist you unplug me, now!

Why don't you fight cancer the way you fight treatment?

So you can go home and change your mind?

I'm not gonna change my mind, I swear.

I'll sign anything you want me to.

Well, you can't sign anything in your state.

Oh, he's right, actually. Erm...

any statement you sign now wouldn't be valid,

because you're under the influence of some very strong drugs.

So, because of the drugs I'm on, I'm not competent

to decide to come off the drugs I'm on?

Are you serious?

As we already told your agent, it's...

You know what you are? A cancerist.

- That's right, a classic cancerist. - A what?

Oh, that's someone...

Oh, shit. I need everyone to be quiet.

- It's Cassidy. - Shit! I forgot to call her.

- Oh, my God. - I'm serious.

Best chemo session ever...

Shut the fuck up!

It's my daughter.

I really need you to be quiet.

She can't know I'm here.

Mum! I found the perfect shoes for the ceremony part.

Oh, you did? Show me.

Listen to me talking about shoes like it's the most important thing.

Can't think of anything more important right now.

Right? OK...

- Are you ready? - Fill me in.

Ta-dah!

Those are so pretty!

Thanks.

Where are you, anyway? I thought you had the fitting.

Erm... that's tomorrow.

Nance, come say hi to Cassidy.

Come on, Nance. Come say hi.

She's coming right now.

Hey, Cass-Cass. What's up, sweetie?

Hey, Aunt Nancy.

- Are you OK? - Yeah, I'm fine.

Yep, we're all fine. Everything's fine.

Oh, Nance, you've got that call, You know, you've gotta make a call.

Oh, Mum, guess what.

Jack and I can make it on Thanksgiving after all.

You can?

Oh, but next year we have to go to Jack's.

- Who cares about next year? - Exactly.

OK, Mum. I love you.

I love you, doll-face.

Oh, Mum, wait.

- What is it, sweetie? - I just...

I feel like you haven't been completely straightforward

about just how...

amazing my wedding shoes are.

Those are the most beautiful, one-of-a-kind white shoes

that I have ever laid my eyes on in my entire life.

Right? Thanks for clarifying.

No problem, sweetie.

I love you.

Bye, Mum.

Wow, she's really good.

You shitting me? That's Julia fucking Roth.

I don't wanna die.

But I am dying.

So I'd like to do it right. My way.

With my hair, no holes in my body, no poison in my veins.

Ever even if you think it's a...

selfish, vain choice...

Fuck it.

It's my choice.

My life, my death.

My last little attempt...

at a happy ending.

Even if I'm wrong.

I didn't say you were wrong.

What?

But I did assume that you were making this choice in a...

in a state of anxiety and confusion without giving it much thought.

And clearly, I was wrong.

And I'm sorry.

Come again?

Not a chance.

Right, er... let's get you unplugged.

Really?

Really.

Right, this won't take long.

What's the rush?

MOBILE PHONE RINGING

They'll manage.

I'm in chemo.

- Yes, you are. - Hallelujah!

Miracles do happen.

What have you done to my ward?

May I make one final request, Dr Hanson?

Anything, Ms Roth.

Can I have my arm back?

I'm so sorry.

There's a cab outside waiting for you, Jules.

Go back to the hotel.

I'll fix this.

Thank you, Nance.

I don't know how to say goodbye.

Well, luckily, there's protocol.

Brrrrr!

- Julia! - Brava!

Colon cancer is torture enough.