"35 year old, admitted last year for head trauma has been experiencing seizures, nausea, heart palpitations, and vomiting. CT scans were clean, they showed no evidence of brain damage."

"Could it be the heart?" Taub inputted thoughtfully. "A clot could explain the nausea, seizures, and heart palpitations."

"An ultrasound of the heart was done; there were no abnormal obstructions visible."
"It could be the pancreas," Thirteen interjected. "An infection could cause all the symptoms."

"But heart palpitations?" Foreman skepticized. "Those are two completely different organs."

"Maybe the heart palpitations aren't a symptom," Thirteen said. "The pancreas would explain everything else; maybe the heart palpitations are something different all together."

"Look at the pancreas," said House. "Check it for infection." He tapped his cane meaningfully on the tile floor. "And meanwhile if you need me, I'll be in Cuddy's office, reading Time magazine and having an intellectual conversation." He turned on his heel and strode out through the glass doors, leaving the three doctors alone.

"Let's get to it," Foreman exclaimed, standing up and grabbing his clipboard. "Well?"
Thirteen and Taub stood up hesitantly and left the office with Foreman, quickly making their way to room 434 and wheeling in an ultrasound machine.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Taub and we'll be taking a look at your pancreas today," he said to the man in the bed closest to the window, whose chart read: "Brent Robbins, 35," and listed his symptoms.

"What are you checking for?" Brent asked, watching as Thirteen grabbed the jelly from the cart.

"An infection could be causing your symptoms," she responded. "It could be easily treated with antibiotics." She then had him lift up his hospital gown so his abdomen was visible; she squirted the jelly on his stomach and rubbed it in. "Sorry, it's kind of cold." She then picked up the scope and turned on the computer, rubbing the scope around the area his pancreas was located in.

"Is that my pancreas?"

"Yup," Taub answered, scrutinizing the picture. "Pancreas is clear. No sign of infection."

"Okay," Thirteen said, wiping off the scope and the patient's stomach. "So what's left?"

"Excuse me?" Brent asked politely.

"Yes?" Thirteen asked, turning back to her patient.

"Sorry to bother you, but who are you?"

"Who—who am I? I'm Dr. Hadley, I just did an ultrasound on your pancreas."

"No you didn't." Brent said, looking from doctor to doctor. "I've been sitting here all day waiting for Dr. House to get back and tell me what's wrong with me. What are you doing here?"

The three doctors looked at each other with the same reaction: A new symptom.

******************************************************

"So now we add confusion to our list, "House said, the whiteboard marker squeaking annoyingly.

"It could be MS," Foreman offered.

"Brain scan was clean," House said, "Unless it's on a tricky little nerve that doesn't show up on the scan…" He stopped writing for a moment before turning back to the doctors. "Go talk to Chase, convince him to cut open this guy's head."

"He'll never go for that," Thirteen said. "We don't even know if it's MS yet!"

"Which is why we need Chase to cut open his head," House said, "before our patient starts hallucinating he's Barry Manilow. Go!"

Thirteen stood up first and left for the cafeteria, where it was most likely she'd find Chase.