©K Brogan 2007
Dear Readers, I want to first say that I thank everyone for reading this story. Second, I understand that West Virginia has modern facilities and is "not backwards." But please remember this is a work of fiction and if you get past the first three chapters, I really celebrate the beautiful Appalachians which I fell in love with on my white water rafting trips. I found Beckley to be modern and I have no intention of disparaging it. However, I do recall traveling through a very rural and poor area of Appalachia and it is this memory that I fashioned this story on. So please, no more reviews chastizing me for disparaging West Virginia. I know it's a wonderful state, but just like California, New York, Florida, Texas, there are areas where there are poor people and substandard medical care...so just enjoy the story for what it is...A WORK OF FICTION!
White Trash
Chapter 1
The Noose Tightens
Lisa Cuddy paced in a tight pattern next to the bored man leaning against the wall. She felt like kicking his cane away from him and making him fall, but she held back. Her emotions were running the gamut. She was fist clenching angry. She was adrenalin pumping scared. And more importantly, she was heart-wrenchingly disappointed. She had tried so long to save his pathetic ass and he had done everything in his power to thwart her. He seemed to have a death wish and now it might just come true. His career, which for him was his life, might be dead by suicide.
She cleared her throat, trying to control the anger, the emotion closest to the surface, "I heard that they received some last minute letters of recommendation which might, just might, help you. When you go in there, make sure you keep that tongue silent and let your attorney do the talking."
He gave her an exaggerated pout, "Yes, Mommy."
"House, this isn't funny. This time they want your balls. I can't save you." She leaned close and whispered, "I can't get up on the stand and lie for you."
House looked in her eyes and saw how frightened she was for him. He had to look away, he didn't want to feel any more guilt than he already did. The door opened and a woman in a peach shirt dress stuck her head out.
"Dr. House? We're ready for you. You can come in too Dr. Cuddy."
They went inside and sitting on one side of the dark oak table were three stoic faces, each with two manila files in front of them marked, "G. House, M.D. Confidential." On the nearest side of the table was House's attorney, a very polished man in a dark pinstriped suit, pink shirt and deep blue tie. He looked up and scowled at his client.
House knew his attorney, Darrian Jackson, was pissed off at him for his earlier outburst. House had dismissed all warnings and told the Disciplinary Board what they could do with their manila files. Cuddy had turned white and the attorney had turned red. House simply got up and left the room. Now it was round two. House looked over at the middle-aged court reporter who was capturing everything they were saying on her stenotype machine.
Preston Saunders, the chair of the committee, was the first to speak, "Dr. House, you never do yourself any favors by talking. Whether it's here, to a patient or to another doctor, you have no control over that mouth of yours and this time even a good attorney can't help you. Standing on a chair and yelling to the large crowd at Princeton Plainsboro that there had been a white, powdery substance delivered to the surgeons on staff and that the crowd should be checked out for a contagious disease was stupid. You implied that the building was infected with anthrax. It created panic in the building, several people were hurt trying to exit the building and the entire hospital was placed in lock-down by Homeland Security. The only thing that kept you out of jail was the fact that a white powdery substance had actually been delivered to one surgeon, but it turned out to be Splenda sent by someone trying to play a joke on him. As you know, we suspect it was you who sent the powder, but there is no evidence to prove that or you would be in jail."
The blue-gray haired woman next to Preston nodded in agreement, "You're too bright to get caught doing that, so we can't really blame you for the Splenda package. But we can hold you responsible for the hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage that you did to PPTH and the injuries suffered by the people who were frightened by your announcement."
Preston interrupted, "We have a five inch manila file here with complaints, in New Jersey alone, against you. Granted, they're somewhat schizophrenic. They start out how brilliant you are, how you saved theirs or a loved one's life and how they owe you a lot, but then they go on to request that you be reprimanded for some indiscretion. This time half the staff at PPTH requested that you be disqualified from practice for what you did. You've been before this board ten times in five years, more than any other doctor in New Jersey. After this incident we had decided to strike you from the books."
Preston looked at House's attorney and grimaced, "However, your attorney brought us twenty letters from some of the most brilliant minds in medicine and from several rather important patients of yours, including a Senator, the director of the CIA and a very wealthy investor of PPTH, each requesting that we only give you a mild reprimand."
The woman interrupted, "We can't do that. There's too much in these files to ignore. We have to send a message."
House opened his mouth but the spiked heel plunging into the top of his foot caused such pain that his eyes teared up. He bit his lip, stole a quick glance at a very stern Cuddy and pretended to listen, trying to appear contrite.
Preston saw that something had happened under the table, but chose to ignore it. "Dr. House, the Medical Board of the State of New Jersey hereby suspends your license to practice for three years unless you agree to the following terms. You will be reinstated in six months if you agree to provide your services to one of the clinics on our rehabilitation list. These clinics serve the poorest people in the world. You will not be compensated for your services and, instead, you will pay the clinic for your room and board as well as $100 a week for their supervision of your work. If the supervising doctor informs us that you did not perform in a manner appropriate for the situation, your three year suspension will go into effect. Any questions, your attorney can address to our clinic rehabilitation coordinator. It's your call Dr. House. Three years not practicing or six months serving the poor. Good Luck."
The board stood up and filed ceremoniously out of the room. House turned to his attorney and started yelling, "What the hell am I paying you for? You consider that a good deal?"
His attorney didn't even dignify House with a look. He handed Cuddy a piece of paper which she began to read, her eyes were wide with shock. The attorney said calmly and with authority, "As you can see Dr. Cuddy, the original ruling was to strike Dr. House from the books and prevent him from practicing in New Jersey altogether. It also indicates that they were going to notify the remaining forty-nine states of their actions along with a summary of the numerous complaints against Dr. House. I think you can agree that what was just offered is an incredible deal for him, he won't get any better. Trust me." The attorney snapped his briefcase closed and finally looked at House."Here's the list of clinics to choose from."
House grabbed it, briefly reviewed it and slammed it down on the table, "Where's Trenton? Harlem? South Philly? They're all in poor neighborhoods. You expect me to go to Bolivia? Peru? Salvador? Thailand? Botswana? Six months in some zoonotic soup? You've got to be joking."
The attorney smiled devilishly, "Sorry Dr. House, it is what it is. Trenton, Harlem, Philly, those places have government funded medical clinics and hospitals. The listed areas represent places where the people are substantially below the poverty line and have little, if any, access to medical care. You don't have to do it, you could sit on your ass for three years. And judging from what I've heard about you, it might suit you. Let me know doctor." He pulled the briefcase off the table, smiled at Cuddy and left.
Cuddy and House got into the car and as Cuddy drove, House looked over the list again. "There's only one assignment in the USA! Christ, where's Peapatch, West Virginia?"
"West Virginia? It must be in the Appalachians. I remember volunteering for a month in Beckley when I was an intern." She shuddered, "It was a nightmare. The idea that people have to live like that in the richest nation in the world is unfathomable."
House rolled his eyes, "Oh give me a break. They have legs, they can walk to a city, find a job and get a real life. They choose to live that way because it's easy. And people like easy. They don't like working for a living."
"Aren't you being a little naive? Most of the families down there are working two, sometimes three jobs to keep their heads above water. You're such a jerk." She glanced at him, "What are you going to do?"
"Well, it depends on you. What is the board going to do? If I do the six months in Siberia, will they welcome me back to St. Petersburg with open arms?"
"One of those letters came from John Bartholomew, our major donor and the man you saved last year. He's paid for the damages to the hospital. So your job will be there when you get back, if you come back within the year. Otherwise, they're giving the department to Chase."
House jerked his head around to look at her. "Chase? Why not Foreman?"
"Chase has done very well without you. He's grown substantially as a surgeon. Foreman still turns to you when he gets into a bind. And he doesn't have Chase's track record. You fired Chase because you knew in the end he would eventually be as good as you are...probably better because he's nice while he's doing it and the patients like him."
"Please, spare me the Wilson pearls of Wisdom. I fired Chase because there was nothing more to teach him. He either had it or he didn't."
"Well, he has it." Cuddy paused, "Now, what are you going to do?"
He sneered at her, "I hear they have good moonshine in the Appalachians. Besides, I can't let you give my department to an Aussie! It's un-American. Peapatch, West Virginia, here I come. Do you think if I don't bend over I'll get out alive?"
"Why don't you go overseas? It might be fun." Cuddy asked.
"Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, caught the disease."
Part II
"So you're going to donate six months of services to a clinic for indigent people?" Wilson put his feet up on the table and took a swig of his Tres XXX.
"Yeah, I drive through Princeton go south five miles and then west about sixty miles. I'm there."
"Huh? You're going to Reading, Pennsylvania?"
House sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and took a swig of beer before scrunching his face at Wilson, "No, idiot, Peapatch, West Virginia. It's about sixty miles from Princeton, West Virginia. I'm gonna find me some banjo playin' retards and give them Viagra so they can populate the nation with toothless relatives."
"Whoa! You're going into the Appalachians?"
House sighed, "You make it sound like I'm going into the deepest darkest part of the jungle in "Apocalypse Now".
"Have you ever been in the back woods?" Wilson asked.
House's face was placid. He shook his head, "I've been backpacking in the mountains, but I've never gone into the Appalachian communities. Cuddy did and that's why she can't have any babies, they sterilized her after having contact with the locals."
Wilson turned with a look of puzzlement, "Is there really a Princeton down there?"
"Closes large town to Peapatch."
"Peapatch? Where exactly is it?"
"It's on one of the tallest peaks on the border between West Virginia, Virginia and Kentucky. Kind of where they all come together."
Wilson looked down on the coffee table, "Where'd you get all the snacks? Beer nuts, pretzels, tortilla chips. Did you rob a grocery store?" Wilson started stuffing his face from the various bowls.
"I been down to the Piggly Wiggly to get me some fixins fer the poker game last night and I seen the snack aisle and thunk of ya'll."
"Oh God, am I going to have to listen to this until you leave?"
"Y'ar actin' a mite biggity arn't ya?"
"House, stop this."
"Ah, shucks, don't go gettin' on yor high horse."
"Look House...if you don't stop it, I'm leaving."
"You're no fun."
"So, when do you leave?"
"Monday."
"How are you going to get there?"
House shrugged, "I thought I'd drive."
"You're joking? Up in the Appalachians? That car is too close to the ground. You're going to need a jeep."
House thought a minute. "If I have a jeep it means that I have to use it to go on house calls. I'll take my car."
"Do you get to come back and visit?"
"I work one Saturday a month, have all Sundays and one week off after ninety days."
"Ouch!" Wilson started snickering. "I tell you what, I'll come down and see you when I get some time off."
House nodded. "I need a prescription for Vicodin."
Wilson shook his head, "PPTH changed its pharmacy rules again. I can only write a prescription for ninety days, unless I have authorization from Cuddy. A ninety day prescription will last you, what? Maybe thirty days?"
"If that. I have some left, but I'm going to need some in a month or so. Mail me another prescription in a month."
"I can't, they're numbering them and requiring us to keep a log of each of the prescriptions. You'll have to get someone there to write you one. You better take your chart."
House wasn't happy, but he didn't say anything.
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