How Did George Die In Young Sheldon In The Original Pilot?

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

The new intern in the unit had to be chronically incompetent. He handled my mother's post-surgery medication and somehow mixed up the drug. He gave her a potent blood thinner. That night, she died from a hemorrhage after her operation. Before I could even accuse him, the intern had his puppy-dog eyes ready. "I'm sorry, Dr. Benford, but I thought that was the drug you wanted me to mix. Who was I to question my superior's order?" Then the hospital director, who was also my wife, chimed in, "Your mom is the idiot for taking her meds without checking. She brought this on herself." I was so enraged that I had a heart attack, which meant I had to undergo surgery in the same hospital. The intern insisted on redeeming himself and assisted Victoria during the operation. He could not even thread a needle because his hands kept trembling. In the middle of the procedure, this medical fraud removed his mask and wet the end of the surgical thread to force it through. I died in the ICU the next day. The cause was a bacterial infection. As I neared death, I heard the intern whine through tears, "How could I be so careless? If I weren't so clumsy, Dr. Benford would have lived." Victoria gently ruffled his hair. "Don't take it to heart, pumpkin. Everyone knows how risky medical procedures can be. You're just starting out, so don't be so hard on yourself." Because of my wife's efforts, both my mother and I were cremated without any investigation or disciplinary action. You would think that was the end. It wasn't. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugo Spencer first joined our hospital as an intern.

When my son suffered a heart attack in the middle of the night, I rushed him to the hospital where my wife worked. Instead of taking charge herself, she handed the operation to an intern. "New doctors need opportunities to learn. I'll be right there supervising. Nothing will happen." But before the surgery even began, a phone call pulled her away, leaving a trembling Marvin Vance alone in the operating room. My son never made it off the operating table. I collapsed in the hallway, sobbing in grief. Yet I overheard my wife gently comforting Marvin. "For your first surgery, you held on this long. You've done an amazing job, my little cinnamon roll." Awkwardly copying trendy slang younger people used online, she reassured him with endless patience. Then she turned to me with a cold expression and demanded that I sign a letter forgiving Marvin. "He has his whole future ahead of him. You can't destroy his life." I tore the document to pieces and threatened to call the police and expose what had happened. In response, she arranged for a medical donation and had my son's body dissected that very night. Driven insane by grief, I threw myself from a building while clutching my son's ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of my son's surgery. This time, I immediately contacted my parents and transferred him to another hospital. But that night, they still dissected a child.

My dad, Angus Helman, always said I did not seem like a man. I would start panting after running two steps, and whenever I was in physical education class, I always sat crouched in a corner. I could not even open a water bottle. My mom, Diana Helman, snuck me to see a doctor. We were told that I had a heart condition and could not do strenuous exercise. At home, Mom showed Dad the diagnosis. He did not even finish reading it before he threw it on the table. “What nonsense is this?! No one in the past three generations of the Helman family has had any heart issues! Don’t trick me with this! He’s just lazy! You spoiled him rotten! He’s lazing about at home all day. Who wouldn’t get sick from that?” I got into the best university in the city. Dad became a teacher and was in charge of the school’s orientation program. He said that this was fate and that he could “remake” me. He would wake me up at 5 a.m. and make me run. He would deny me food if I could not finish my push-ups. If I could not run, he would hit me with his belt. I did not want to get hit or disappoint him. I started keeping my heart medication in my pocket and popped in a couple of pills when my chest felt tight. On the last day of orientation, Dad made me do push-ups in front of the entire school. I gritted my teeth and prayed to be able to make it through, just this once. At the fiftieth push-up, my vision went dark. I fell on the ground, and Dad kicked me. “Get up! Don’t keep huffing and puffing like a girl! Stay there if you dare!” My face was plastered on the hot running track as my vision went dark. I really could not get back up at all.

My father-in-law, Eason Chapman, suffers from a sudden heart attack. On the way to the hospital, I'm forced to a stop by a Ferrari. Knowing that the Ferrari belongs to my wife, Cindy Chapman, I lower the car window and tell her to make way for me right away and to not waste any time. What I don't expect is to see Cindy in a state of undress while she's sitting in the front passenger seat. Meanwhile, her first love, Harley Gunn, is the one behind the wheel. "You really have grown bold, Ian Jowett! How dare you take my dad's car out on a spin! Don't forget that you're just a live-in son-in-law!" I glance at the rearview mirror, where Eason's face has already gone blue. Then, I yell in alarm, "Hurry up and get out of the way! Dad is suffering from a heart attack right now! I need to take him to the hospital!" Cindy screams at me angrily, "How dare you use my dad's luxurious car to give your dying, broke dad a ride to the hospital! Get him out of the car right now! Don't jinx my dad's car with your dad's death!" I'm not in the mood to fight with Cindy, so I put my foot down on the gas pedal and start speeding toward the hospital. Throughout the journey, Cindy keeps stopping me with her Ferrari, causing me to brake repeatedly. In the end, Ian closes his eyes in the backseat forever.

An emergency has just occurred at the hotel. William Davis, the mayor's son, suffers from cardiac arrest in the hotel. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctor in his team can do about it. I happen to be vacationing nearby, so I quickly rush toward the scene. As soon as I rush into the lobby, the security guards quickly stop me. "A life is being saved at the moment. Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed to enter." I'm about to dig out my work badge when Lydia Sharpe, the intern tagging along, suddenly covers her mouth and shouts daintily, "Don't let her in! There's a scalpel and a syringe of anesthetics in her bag!" Everyone is shocked by Lydia's revelation. The security guards instantly have me surrounded while wearing vigilant looks. Sweat starts rolling down my face out of anxiety. "I'm the head of the cardiothoracic surgery department of Central City Hospital! I've heard about the patient's condition! He must undergo a thoracotomy right away!" The next thing I know, Lydia has snatched my bag out of my hands. Things such as the sterilized gloves, defibrillator, as well as life-saving medication are scattered all over the floor. Lydia steps on the one and only life-saving pill instantly. "I just heard you claiming that it's best if the mayor's son dies right away! Why are you still pretending to be a savior? "Hurry up and arrest her! I suspect she has something to do with the ongoing case! She's definitely a murderer!" The person in charge's expression shifts drastically. Soon, he pins me on the wall. "Detain her and inform the security department right away! This woman is suspected of being involved in a murder!" As I stare at Lydia, I can't help but tremble violently. Right now, I'm the only one in the entire city who can perform the surgery on William. Unfortunately, he can only last for another half an hour in his current condition.