So, what’s The Resident all about? Picture this: doctors and nurses hustling at Chastain Park Memorial Hospital. It’s not just about medicine. It’s about their lives, too. Personal dramas, professional chaos and all that jazz. They tackle challenges every day. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions and you might even find yourself laughing or crying. Or both! Get ready for some serious heartwarming moments.

Meet the characters from The Resident

AJ Austin

AJ is that flashy, got-a-plan resident who struts into a room like he owns half the hospital and then somehow saves the day with textbook precision — loud but brilliant. He loves a good risk (wears flashy sneakers with scrubs, or was it bow ties? I can’t remember, but there’s definitely a vibe), and he’ll argue with attendings just because he believes in the right answer. Underneath the swagger there’s a weirdly soft center — family-first, secretly sentimental, cries at commercials (or at least looks like he might — depends on the day). He’s the one who will call you out but also bring you coffee at 2 a.m., which is somehow both infuriating and endearing.

Conrad Hawkins

Conrad is the rule-bending, heart-on-his-sleeve surgeon who makes chaos look intentional and empathy look lethal. He’s the mentor everyone swears by — sarcastic, quick, a little dangerous but also oddly paternal, like he keeps band-aids in his soul. He’s persistent to the point of stubbornness (and terrible at small talk, unless it’s a rant about care standards), and he hoards mixtapes in his head — not literally, I think, but maybe, who knows. He’ll break the rules, apologize later, and somehow still be the moral center even when he’s being a mess.

Randolph Bell

Dr. Bell is the polished, old-school surgeon with the calm voice and the secretive past; he smiles a lot (maybe too much) and makes you feel like everything is under control. He can be paternal and terrifying in equal measures — brilliant, politically savvy, and sometimes ethically murky (like the kind of guy who will charm a board meeting while rearranging the truth). There’s a soft, guilt-ridden underbelly — loves classical music or used to, collects antique pens? — and he’s definitely hiding something even when he’s being exceptionally charming. He’s the big-idea, stern-but-complicated type who might rescue a patient and then ghost you for a week.

Devon Pravesh

Devon is the earnest, brainy junior doc who reads too many ethics papers and still somehow rips into IV lines with surprising confidence. He’s the moral compass — idealistic, anxious, committed — and also annoyingly good at remembering tiny medical facts (and people’s birthdays? maybe, depends). He can be naive and stubborn at once, like he’s both learning and quietly planning a revolution in patient care (or just making a spreadsheet, realistically). He’s the kind of person to bring snacks to night shift and then lecture you gently about hydration while stealing your fries.

Nicolette Nevin

Nicolette is fierce, no-nonsense nursing excellence wrapped in compassion; she’ll clap back at anyone who underestimates her and then quietly fix the parts of the system that break people. She’s protective, passionate about patients, and has that raw honesty that makes you trust her immediately — also possibly makes other staff slightly terrified (in a good way). She’s got a soft spot for weird hobbies (crocheting, midnight baking — I feel like she bakes? or plots? both), and she’ll surprise you by being both furious and tender in the space of one sentence. She’s the kind of person who keeps secrets like keepsakes and shows loyalty like a badge.

Irving Feldman

Irving is the dry, brilliant pathologist who says things so bluntly you laugh and then feel guilty for laughing; he’s quietly hilarious and low-key sentient thermostat of the morgue. He’s unflappable, oddly sentimental about tiny items (frequently seen rearranging office postcards, maybe), and has a weird affection for crossword puzzles at 3 a.m. He’s the person who notices the detail no one else does and will deliver truth with a side of deadpan humor — sometimes inscrutable, sometimes shockingly warm. He’s not flashy, he’s accurate, and he’ll save your case notes and your dignity if you let him.