Physician, Heal Thyself, Chapter 3

2038-01-19T03:14:07Z

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Same as the first two.

The paperwork spoke for itself.

Employee’s name:

Gregory House

Describe the medical facts which support your request for leave under the FMLA:

Chronic pain in his leg, the result of surgery to remove part of the thigh muscle due to an infarction. Breakthrough pain occurs at intermittent intervals. Past use of Vicodin to control the pain has led to increased tolerance and decreased effectiveness. Furthermore, the patient has exhibited addictive tendencies, including a tendency to consume more Vicodin then prescribed, to self-prescribe, and to otherwise abuse the prescribed drug. Given the presence of ongoing chronic and breakthrough pain, a new pain management regime must be established and the patient’s addictive tendencies addressed with physical and psychiatric therapy, among other techniques. This process will be handled as an inpatient at Bolingbrook Center.

State the probable duration of the condition (and also the probable duration of the patient’s present incapacity if different):

Duration of the condition – forever. Duration of the present incapacity – approximately eight to 12 weeks.

“Reading something interesting?”

Cuddy drew her eyes involuntarily from the paper she had been reading and rereading to meet Wilson.

“I don’t know if interesting is the right word,” she frowned. “It is, however, the first time I’ve ever gotten timely and complete paperwork from House.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily attribute that to him,” Wilson replied. “They must just have efficient administrators at Bolingbrook.”

Cuddy sighed. “Do you think he’s going to be OK?” she wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer.

“I don’t know,” Wilson replied anyway. “I hope so.”

“I just hate that he’s all by himself.”

“That was his choice,” Wilson reminded her as he turned to leave. “He didn’t have to run away like the lone ranger.”

“Didn’t he?”

It wasn’t until she caught Wilson’s stare that Cuddy realized that she had voiced that thought aloud.

***

That night, as she was leaving Princeton-Plainsboro, Cuddy found herself drawn to the silent Diagnostics Department. All was quiet, as the fellows had been sent to their respective specialties to kill time, but hopefully not patients, until House’s return.

She walked inside and passed by the big white board, eerily pristine and white, and found herself sitting in House’s chair behind his desk.

His array of toys were present, as if waiting for his return to a life of goofing off between episodes of eccentricity leading to eclectic diagnoses.

The gameboy. The ipod. The ball he loved to annoy everyone by bouncing.

What was missing was the aura of House -- that feeling of controlled pandemonium, that sensation that she never knew what was coming next.

The office was simply too quiet.

With her problem genius on the other end of the country, the office felt almost like any other office.

Cuddy sat in House’s chair and began to bounce his thinking ball.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

It was rhythmic. Hypnotizing.

Cuddy caught the ball and returned it to its home on House’s desk.

***

For the second time since House went AWOL, Cuddy used her key to let herself into his darkened house. The pandemonium that House had left behind registered once again as she passed through the living room to the kitchen where Steven McQueen reigned supreme.

“I can’t believe I agreed to take care of a rat,” she grumbled aloud as she flipped on the lights.

She moved quickly to House’s kitchen and looked around, wondering where one would keep rat food. She opened the pantry and found some Cheerios.

“Here’s a start,” she told Steve McQueen as she poured some in a paper bowl and quickly put them in the cage. “The website said you can eat cereal. But you wouldn’t happen to know where House keeps your real food, do you?”

Steve McQueen had no answers for her. At least he did not put forth sarcastic nonanswers.

“You know,” Cuddy continued her one-sided conversation as she pondered where else to look for rat food. “Your owner is a real pain in my ass. I could tell you some stories....”

Under the sink, Cuddy hit paydirt.

“It figures he would import gourmet rat food from Canada,” she observed, as she dished it out. “It takes a rat to feed a rat.”

She watched Steve eat.

“The website said you should have a buddy,” Cuddy told the movie star. “But you’re going to have take that up with House when he comes back. . . . If he comes back.”

House’s best friend fed, Cuddy turned her attention to less pressing matters. She pulled out a garbage bag and began to systematically dump in the contents of the mad scientist’s refrigerator. She started with his possible science experiments and moved on to anything that might spoil, grow, or otherwise smell. She contemplated with disgust House’s eating habits as she worked her way through leftover containers of pizza, Chinese food, and something that might once have passed for Thai. When the bag was full, she took it out to the dumpster.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she told Steve upon her return to the kitchen as she began to literally clean the refrigerator. “He can’t come home to this.”

***

When she finally got home, Cuddy pulled on her comfy pajamas and flipped on the TV to help wind down. She sat on the couch with her Lean Cuisine and began changing channels, looking for something to watch.

When she hit a monster truck jam, she could not bring herself to change the channel again.

Instead, her thoughts turned to House. Was he watching across the country? Were there even TVs at Bolingbrook Center? Was he detoxing? Or was this one more trick?

She had risked her career – her life -- for him, and he had disappeared.

No thank you, no notice. The only concern that House expressed was for his rat.

She was worried and angry and concerned and pissed off; her emotions were like a seesaw, but she only got the down side. There was no relief or joy; only fear and rage.

Was House even planning to come back?

Suddenly, Cuddy realized that even if House didn’t have the courtesy to call her and tell her what he was doing himself, she had more than a few things to say to him. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began to jot down her thoughts.

House,

How dare you just disappear on me? Didn’t you think that I’d worry? Didn’t I deserve better than that after everything?

Didn’t you think that Wilson would worry – even more than me? That your team would worry? Even Brenda was worried about you. We almost called the cops on you, as if that wouldn’t have made everything worse.

What I said to you in that jail cell still holds – your ass is mine – just as soon as you get out of Bolingbrook Center. You'd better put it on a plane straight back here to New Jersey.

Anyway, I’m glad that you’re getting help dealing with the pain; from the research I’ve been doing, the place looks like it’s the best. But don’t you think it gets you out of what you owe me. . . . I expect you back here, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for some clinic hours, gladhanding with donors, and whatever else I need. I think I might set up a special clinic day with only the most annoying patients, especially for you.

Anyway, the rat is fed. You order gourmet rat food? And whatever was growing in your fridge is gone; you’ll just have to start new experiments of your own when you get back.

Call me if you need anything.

Cuddy

p.s. If this rehab turns out to be like the last one, the West Coast isn’t far enough to hide from my wrath.

lilybeth0529

Physician, Heal Thyself, Chapter 3