Chapter 13: Faking Compassion
"Well, let's get going." House said bouncily as he strode back into the play room. "Lots of dying kids to save, right?"
"Yup" Wilson sighed. To House it might seem like a sarcastic joke, but to him it was a grim reality. They began walking towards the conference rooms.
"Who will we be talking to today?" House asked as Wilson picked up a stack of files from the front desk. Wilson looked up, surprised by the earnest question.
"Well, the Albrights are coming in and I have to tell them that their son needs a bone marrow transplant because his current treatment isn't working. Greg Burkett's MRI did come back so I have to, um, introduce his family to the hospice care counselor."
"Wow, that's the weirdest euphemism for 'Tell him he's dying' I've ever heard. Does that go over well with families? I keep using 'You're dying', but that just feels played out and I was looking for some new material." Wilson gave him a withering glare that asked, How could you be so cruel?, and House remembered he was supposed to be full of humility and all that crap.
"But seriously," he said, his voice hushed, his tone somber, "How do you handle that? Do you tell the kid, or do the parents? That's got to be a horrible conversation." Wilson almost fell over. House was getting it! After a moment he recovered, remembering that this was the point of the plan.
"It depends on the wishes of the parents and how long the kid has," House resisted adding 'to live' sarcastically, "and it's never easy. I feel so bad, because we tried so hard, the kids fought so long, and it was all for nothing."
"Not necessarily," House pointed out kindly. "The treatment they get here gives lots of them months, years more than they would have without it." Faking compassion was taking a lot of effort, but the look on Wilson's face was worth it.
"Yeah," Wilson assented, thrown by House's comforting words. As long as House was being compassionate for a minute, he decided to confess: "Sometimes I feel guilty when they thank me. When I tell them they're dying, I'm saying I failed; I broke the promise that I would help make them better. I failed...and they're thanking me."
"Is that why you stopped collecting on our bet?" Wilson nodded sadly. "Well, architects' bridges sometimes fall down too. It's not your fault. They're thanking you more for being their doctor and helping them, and for your compassion, than for the fact they they're dying. I'm glad the bet's off, I was losing a lot of money. You're good at what you do." Wilson smiled. House smiled too, but not because of the joke. He was smiling because Wilson was falling for it hook, line and sinker.