M*A*S*H (1972–1983): Season 3, Episode 7 - Check-Up - full transcript

Trapper John's ulcer flares up and could provide grounds for a medical discharge from the Army.

Testing. One, two, three,
four, five, six, seven, eight.

Testing. "A," "B," "C,"
"D," "E," "F," "G," "H"...

# I got a gal in Kalamazoo #

Give me that.

All right. Attention.
Attention, please.

May I have the attention of each
and every personnel, please?

This is your commanding officer,
Colonel Blake.

I thought it was Major Bowes.

It's required that everyone be
given a routine medical checkup.

This is according
to a new army regulation...

which is, uh, your RP78/80778J...



Uh, blah, blah, blah.

Accordingly, enlisted men will fall into
the mess tent to receive their physicals.

Officers will examine themselves
and vice versa in private.

Is there anything else
that I should tell them, Radar?

Okay. Tonight's movie
is a double feature...

Godzilla and the Bobby-Soxer
plus Ma and Pa Kettle Have a Baby.

#Zoo, zoo, zoo-zee-zoo #

Ah, ah, ah...

Don't swallow the doctor.

You're a typical soldier, soldier. Fine
for the army, but not fit to be drafted.

Trapper, take a look at this.
Rotatory scoliosis.

Hmm.
Haven't seen many of those.

Nothing to worry about.
You were born that way.

Your vertebrae are trying
to pass each other on a hill.



What's a pretty girl like you
doing in a war like this?

Klinger, are you Catholic? Your heart's
playing "The Bells of St. Mary's. "

- Two degrees of temperature?
- He's not a well woman.

- I'm not the complaining type.
- Since when?

Step over there,
sir and/or madam.

- Hi, Frank. - Hello, Frank.
- That's your business.

Customers waiting.

Why do I always get stuck
with "turn your head and cough"?

- You have the gift, Frank.
- You have a perfect head for hernias.

You daffy-doodles
always have an answer.

- Send them in.
- Step behind the screen and drop your pants.

Step behind the screen
and raise your skirt.

All right, girls. Attention, please.

Now, I will give you
the preliminary exam...

and then the doctors
will go to work on you.

Bear in mind that you are the cream
of American military womanhood...

serving your Uncle Sam
and entitled to dignity.

No smart remarks...

no insinuations,
sex or smut-wise.

You are women, desirable women.

Most of you.

But army regulations
forbid any doctor...

to assist you from
undressing into disrobement.

Further, they can do nothing, nothing,
when you are alone with them...

but give you a good going-over.

Now, when I call your name,
please scream.

- New girl in town?
- I'm giving Hot Lips her physical.

- Does Frank know?
- I was thinking of tying him in a chair and making him watch.

He's scheduled to do my physical.
Fat chance.

I'll do you.
I'm used to autopsies.

Nobody's examining me.

This place
is medically medieval.

The lab equipment went up San Juan Hill
with Teddy Roosevelt.

Most of you guys wouldn't know
a disease unless it was social...

and there's not a clean
finger in the whole camp.

What did you get, a package
of hostility from home today?

That's how I feel:
To hell with it.

You certainly woke up
from your nap cranky.

Have a gargle?

Our kidneys, sir.
They were fun while they were alive.

And so were we.

- It's got to be the worst.
- Can't be. It's real gin.

Oh, terrible.

Does this mean my taste buds
have been raped?

Am I condemned to drinking Vitalis
on the rocks for the rest of my life?

Wicked.

- Let's make a pact about drinking.
- All right.

Let's never stop.

I'm off to Hot Lips country.

If I'm not back in two days,
alert intensive care.

Hi.
Doctor's here, darling.

Oh, yes, the physical.

Physical to you,
the house call of a lifetime to me.

You blond palomino hussy.

Where do you wanna start?

- Ah. Ah.
- Ah.

- Ah.
- Ah.

Attaboy.

- Never had your tonsils out, huh?
- Should I, sir?

Just a thought. They're big enough
to be a baby's backside.

- Glands okay.
- Thank you, sir.

All right. Stand with
your little feet together.

Close your eyes. Extend your arm
and touch the old nose.

Your nose, Radar.
Your nose.

A few deep breaths,
Margaret.

Breathe hard.
Pretend I'm Frank.

I know how
to breathe hard, Doctor.

If I locate your heart,
do I get a finder's fee?

You're very fit, Major. I guess
that's 'cause you throw so many.

Could stand to lose
about ten pounds, though.

- What?
- Stop grazing between meals. Right in through there.

That should be posted
as a slide area.

- You're also getting a little flanky.
- You're crazy.

Walking away from people, you look like
you're wearing two strange bulldogs in a bag.

Are you quite finished, Doctor?

Roll up your sleeve
from the neck down.

We'll do it my way.

Pressure pooper.

Strip to the waist.

Bare naked, sir?

Radar, I'm not casting
for the Ziegfeld Follies.

Yes, sir.

Radar, there is a you under there,
isn't there?

I'm getting to me, sir.

Somebody naked scare you once?

My folks never took
their clothes off, sir.

They said that the skin
was the devil's slipcover.

For Pete's sake.

- What's that?
- That's my new tattoo.

It's an anchor.

Well, I mean,
you're not in the navy.

I tried to get a red cross,
but it was a buck fifty.

This was only 50 cents.

Radar, getting one of those
is very unsanitary.

Oh, I washed
my hands first, sir.

Right.

Let's audition your pump.

- Can you make it go up and down?
- No, not yet.

But I hum when I do it.

All right, Mclntyre.
Time for your checkup.

- Into your birthday suit.
- Take a walk, Frank.

- This is the army.
- Then take a hike.

Are you refusing to take your physical
from a superior officer?

No, I'm refusing to take my physical
from an inferior doctor.

- What's all the adrenaline for?
- Mclntyre's refused to take his clothes off for me.

Well, not everybody
is Major Houlihan, Frank.

Which is a relief
to us all. Out, Frank.

Excuse me, sirs.

Remember that rotarian "sillyosis"
thing that guy had on his back before?

- Yeah, yeah.
- I got it. Just had an X ray taken, sir.

Get out!

- I just came in.
- There is no room in this tent for perverts.

Shall we all leave
alphabetically?

The ink is still wet
where you touched it up.

I swear I got it.
I can't wear anything backless.

- Out, Klinger! Out!
- "Out, Klinger. Out. "

All right, Mclntyre. Do I check you up,
or check you into the stockade?

Hold it, mouth.
Look, Trap.

I'd rather be strung up by my Achilles
tendon than agree with Major Disaster here.

Oh, fudge.

Refusing a checkup?
It doesn't make sense. It's basic.

There something you wanna
get off your chest, or arms, or legs?

Okay.

I got a problem in my belly...

but I don't want it diagnosed here because
I don't want to be treated in this pigpen.

Pain?

Yeah, when I'm empty.
Feels better when I eat.

- Wake you up at night?
- Yeah.

First I thought it was
alcoholic gastritis.

You know, we've been hitting
the sauce pretty good lately.

But the symptomology is wrong.

I've got heartburn that would
light up the city ofToledo.

I've been taking
this stuff here lately.

- Antacid. Does that help?
- A little, but not enough.

I think I got a duodenal ulcer.

What's the smile for?

Trap, it's not just an ulcer. If you've
got one, that's your ticket home.

You've got a million-dollar
hole in your belly.

Hey. Hey. Hey-hey!

You see that crater?
That's the money, Mclntyre.

Congratulations. You've just given birth
to a bouncing 1.2- Centimeter ulcer.

You are going back
to the world, my friend.

Before you know it, you'll be
home sleeping on the couch...

because you started
talking in your sleep.

You know, I feel so terrible,
I feel great.

You big, strong, dumb, silent
types can't handle the tension.

All cool on the outside, but inside
there's an acid factory in your belly.

Hey, we gotta
have a snort on this.

- A little something to irrigate the "inwards. "
- Hear, hear.

- Scotch or bourbon?
- Right. - No, by me...

Good boy. Radar.

Radar, bring us some milk,
will you?

Who died?

Yes, sir.

You better call home
and let your wife know you're coming.

Right, you don't wanna
walk in on anything.

Some of those 4-Fs
run pretty big.

I can't tell you how much it'll mean
to me to get back and see my two girls.

- Daddy's home.
- I bet they've grown.

Probably shaving now.

- Is everybody all right?
- I'm going home, Radar.

- He's got an ulcer.
- Wow! You lucky pup... sir.

- Join us, Radar.
- Go get a sterile bottle and a clean nipple.

Oh, okay.

- Henry, we gotta throw the kid a farewell bash.
- "Absotively. "

A monster,
embarrassing blowout.

You can come as your
favorite lamp shade.

- Here's to auld lang syne.
- Skoal.

A votre sant?.
Keeps the doctor away.

Who's there?

- Just a little bit ofheaven.
- Come in, Frank.

Hi, sweets.

You realize what Mclntyre's
leaving means, don't you?

No, Frank.
What does it mean?

He'll be gone
and he'll be here.

- They won't be them anymore. They'll only be him.
- Right.

From now on, Margaret,
instead of two against two...

- it's us against him, two against one.
- Fine.

Of course...

- I prefer one against one.
- Oh, please, Frank.

- Why so irritable, princess?
- I'm not irritable, Frank.

I'm just...

fat.

You have a fat,
fat princess.

That just means
there's more of you to love.

Then you agree I'm fat?

No, Margaret.
Not fat, fat.

You're sort of halfway
between fat and thin...

leaning a little bit to the not fat,
but rather the thin side...

of fat.

- In other words, fat.
- No, you're actually thin...

for a person that weighs
as much as you do.

I'll tell you how thin
I am... not very.

Margaret, you're
what I like to think of as...

full-bodied.

- Is that what you like to think of, Frank?
- All the time.

You're all nice and round
and mushy and soft.

Unlike a certain person back home
on whom I used to cut myself.

Hey, Frank. What do you have
to do this afternoon?

- Well, I'm garbage officer. - The
garbage can wait. - The garbage can wait.

Do you realize, you lucky bugger,
in a few days...

you're gonna be
eating unpowdered food?

Wearing clothes
made for humans?

Sleeping on clean sheets?

I don't think I can sleep
on clean sheets anymore.

Why don't you take home
a set of dirties?

The Garden of Allah. And to think
that I could call this home.

Fungus grows on you.

After you go, I'm having the place
done over in deep-pile germs.

And I won't be here.

I'll make you a doggy bag
of bacteria for the plane.

Here. Take this.
I've read it eight times.

Sirs, you're looking at a dying man.

I got 20 minutes to live, tops.

My blood pressure is 200 over 310.

Stuffing cigars
up your armpits again?

When it gets to 400, sell.
For now, exit laughing.

Sir, you're getting out
on an ulcer.

How did you do it? What did you
think about? How did you get it?

- I'm fertile, that's all.
- And he just didn't take any precautions.

- Bye, Klinger.
- "Bye, Klinger. "

Every five minutes,
"Bye, Klinger. "

Well.

It's all yours, Hawk.

Gonna move out? Be a good chance
to get away from Frank.

No, I'll stay.
I wouldn't want a room without a Bible.

Thanks, Trap.

What?

You made it bearable.

I was lucky.

You were honest and open...

and let me lean on you.

No charge.

And if I'm ever back this way...

I'll keep a light burning
for you in a bedpan.

Uh, yes, sir.
I'm writing it down.

Well, not really shorthand, sir.

Sort of long shorthand.
Yes, sir.

Hey, the troops are really
doing it tonight, huh?

Where's Radar?
Anybody seen Radar?

Afraid somebody
will step on him?

I got something for you, sir.

Save the present
for the party, Radar.

No, it's a message from H.Q.

They got your X ray and your medical
file and they approved your ulcer.

That's damn nice of them.

Uh, yeah.

Well, you report
to Tokyo General...

for three weeks of therapy, antacid,
planned diets, tranquilizers...

- the works.
- Is this some kind of an army screwup? I'm going home.

No.

They said they don't
send you home with an ulcer.

After you're cured at Tokyo General,
they ship you off to another unit.

I could wind up
in a place worse than this?

There's no place
worse than this.

Well, they give you the choice of
staying where you are and being cured.

This place gave me the ulcer.

It gave me the runs.

Look, Radar, don't say anything about this
to anybody, okay? I'll take care of it.

Oh, sure. Listen, I'm sorry
you're not going home, Trap.

- But I'm glad you're back.
- Thanks, Radar.

I'm driving down to Seoul tomorrow night
if that's of any interest to you.

I don't go out
with married men, Colonel.

Well, neither do I.

Henry's at 6,000 feet
and holding.

You can do an appendectomy
on him without an anaesthetic.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Here's the graduating class.

Pierce, we're losing our boy.

Well, we knew
he'd leave us one day.

One of the best darn cutters
in the whole shootin' match.

Both of you.
Won't be the same without you.

He's leaving.

You either.

Uh, Margaret, I should warn you.
Alcohol is quite fattening.

It's all right, Frank.
I plan to throw up later.

Could you do me a favor
when you get stateside, sir?

I need a black evening bra.

- No man should be without one.
- I'll pay for it.

I got my mad money
here someplace, sir.

Hold on to it, Klinger.

- Beat it.
- Yes, sir.

There you are, you.

You "aminal. "

The major's a little snoggered.

How can you tell?

Well, Mclntyre.
I guess this is it.

I just wanted you to know
I've always admired you.

- Always liked you.
- Thanks, Frank.

But I'm glad you're going.

Quiet, Frank,
or I'll tie you to Emily Post.

- Frank. We're having a little
entertainment later. - Mm-hmm. Oh, good.

I understand you play
"America, the Beautiful" on the spoons.

Oh, well. It's nothing really.

I'm sure.

If you come to my tent,
I'll keep my flaps up.

I've been waiting a long time to tell you
something, Captain Trapper "John-Intyre. "

Really, Margaret?

I always watch you.
You wouldn't know that.

And every time you look when
I'm looking, I watch something else...

so that you can't see that
I've been looking when you're watching.

- I see.
- Especially when you play football in your bathing trunks.

And now, you're leaving.

And I'm stuck with needle-nose.

Hold it down, everybody.

Hold it down, everybody.

Let me have your attention.
Henry.

Yo.

As you all know, this is TrapperJohn's
last party with us.

While we're all saddened
that he's leaving...

we're gladdened that he's going home
to the land of the all-night generator.

Good friend...

good companion.

He's taken a lot of the rottenness
out of the war for all of us.

We'll miss his stupid laugh.

We'll miss his two good hands.

Honey, marriage
has nothing to do with sex.

Now a few presents
for the bar mitzvah boy.

From the nurses...

From the nurses, a pair
of all-weather pajamas, tops only.

- Hey.
- You'll get the bottoms a week after you're home.

From the enlisted men,
a matched pair of cockroaches...

bronzed and suitable
for use as cuff links.

You just killed
my cuff links.

And from the hospital staff...

a record album for those quiet evenings
after the day's surgery has been botched.

Sonja Henie Sings
Figure Eights For You.

Speech, speech, speech.

Speech.

Thanks.

Thanks, really.
I, uh, I appreciate it.

But as someone once said,
no good deed ever goes unpunished.

I'm staying.

That's right, no joke.

The army in its infinite insanity
says I can't go home.

They've given me
several options...

the least objectionable of which
is staying here with...

with you idiots
in this upholstered men's room.

And as for you, Margaret,
I'll see you tomorrow night.

- Trap, you're kidding.
- I can kid better than that.

I'm buying.
Milk for everybody.

Awful. That's awful.

Time for your medication.

Yeah.

Three more weeks, that's all. You'll be
up and playing the violin again.

Swell. And I'm a ballerina.

- What's that?
- Tranquilizers. They make you relax completely.

- They don't work.
- They do so. Try it.

You first.