Scrubs is a hilarious medical comedy. It shows daily chaos at Sacred Heart Hospital. You’ve got eager J.D., tough but sweet Dr. Cox and perfectionist Elliot. With laughs and feels, this show is a cult classic. Everyone loves it.

Meet the characters from Scrubs

Elliot Reid

Elliot is this brilliant, anxious whirlwind of a doctor who’s always three steps ahead clinically and five steps behind emotionally — in the best, most endearing way. She worries about everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) but will also sign up for a midnight karaoke session like a champ, so there’s that. Neurotic, meticulously organized, and also somehow a hoarder of inspirational Post-its? Yeah, that tracks. She’s fiercely ambitious but has this soft, occasionally awkward sweetness that makes you want to cup her face and tell her she’s fine. Also: she’s on a perpetual quest for the perfect salad but will absolutely inhale a donut if no one’s looking.

J.D.

J.D. is the forever daydreaming intern-turned-doctor with a narrator’s heart and a cartoonist’s imagination — there’s always a montage in his head. He’s sentimental, idealistic, and wildly self-involved in the most lovable way; like, he’ll build elaborate fantasies about hospital heroics and then trip over a chart. He’s a total softie who cries at commercials (probably), but also has odd little routines and secret obsessions with action figure poses. He’s messy, romantic, hero-complexed, and somehow keeps a shrine of childhood nostalgia next to a perfectly ironed lab coat. Somehow both adorable and infuriating, and you can’t help rooting for him.

Carla Espinosa

Carla is the backbone — tough, fierce, no-nonsense nurse and the emotional GPS of the place, but also a party starter who will whoop you at poker and still have dinner on the table by eight. She’s practical and gives zero patience for nonsense (especially from J.D.), yet she’s the one who’ll fiercely protect the people she loves and make sure they eat protein. She dances, cooks, and roasts anyone who deserves it, though rumor has it she secretly watches romcoms when she’s sick and denies it vehemently. She’s the friend who slaps you and then patches you up, and she manages chaos like a pro — organizationally messy but emotionally precise.

Dr. Cox

Dr. Cox is the curmudgeonly, relentless mentor who will yell at your soul and then quietly fix it — sarcasm as a second language. He’s a brilliant, burnt-out perfectionist who hides deep care under a mountain of barbs and nickname-laden rants; you can see him soften in the tiniest, worst-acted moments (and he’d hate that you noticed). He drinks bad coffee and plays classical music for no reason that makes sense, and he’ll tell you he doesn’t give a damn while secretly staying nights to teach you sutures. Brutally honest, impossibly loyal, and somehow impossibly humane despite all evidence to the contrary.

Robert Kelso

Dr. Kelso is the quintessential grumpy hospital administrator who wears cynicism like a tailored suit — mostly self-serving but not entirely heartless, I swear. He’ll make cuts and sigh about budgets and then go home and unironically hum show tunes while petting a dog he pretends to hate (I think). He loves power, hates being bothered, and yet there are these tiny glimpses where he does a genuinely decent thing and you’re like, wait, what just happened? He’s pompous, weary, and magnetic in that “I’ve-seen-things” way; also obsessed with cigars and probably has a secret drawer of condolence cards.

Christopher Turk

Turk is the flashy, confident surgeon who dances through the OR and life like he’s performing a love song for every problem — flashy, loyal, and absurdly competitive. He’s all bromance energy with J.D., obsessed with being the best (and the most fun), and will challenge you to a dance-off at the drop of a hat. He’s a family man under the surface, fiercely proud and tender, though he’ll roast you for hours about your socks before he admits it. He can cook like a pro sometimes and completely burn toast other times, which somehow makes him more real.

The Janitor

The Janitor is gloriously weird: prank-obsessed, mysterious, and possibly immortal — he lives to torment J.D. in ways that are both childishly petty and oddly profound. He collects random, useless things (coins? toy frogs? memories?) and has rituals that make zero sense but somehow run the ward’s undercurrent. He’s a menace who once staged an entire fake law suit and also once showed a totally unexpected moment of kindness, which is confusing but perfect. He hates being called plain “the Janitor” and also seems to thrive on it, which is very on-brand for someone whose real name might be a conspiracy.