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It was only about 6 am, but Dr. Wilson was already up and at it. Claudia realized that he was probably here early because Dr. House was sharing a room with Casey. Claudia remembered the nurse's discussion from the hall and the fact that House and Wilson were apparently best friends. Dr. Wilson washing his face certainly made a lot more sense now.
Dr. Wilson looked pretty tired this morning. Claudia couldn't even imagine the impact on an oncologist of your best friend being diagnosed with cancer. Judging by everything she saw last night, they were pretty good friends. You don't wash a casual acquaintance's armpits when he is incapacitated. It would stink to be a specialist in that situation because he would know EVERYTHING that could go wrong. Based on what she heard while she was holding Dr. House's hand, he was in for a rough ride.
Claudia realized that as a doctor, House must be terrified as well. She didn't know what kind of doctor he was, but he was presumably a medical doctor since he worked at a hospital. The other doctor, she had learned his name was Foreman, had been consulting with Dr. House on a patient earlier. It must take balls to treat a patient considering how sick he was. Basically, all Claudia caught from the discussion were big words flying all over the place. She couldn't help but notice the excitement laced in Dr. House's voice, though. As he talked about medicine, she found herself riveted to the sound of his voice even though she had no idea what he was talking about. She figured some snooping would be in order later to find out more about him.
Dr. Wilson approached Casey's bed first and picked up his chart while giving a quick, "Good Morning."
"Casey, I'm going to start you on the final stage of prep for the surgery. We'll do some imaging tonight and I'll speak to the surgeon about getting your surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning. As your oncologist, I won't actually be performing the surgery-"
Casey interrupted, "I know the drill."
Dr. Wilson nodded, made a few notes in Casey's chart and then moved over to the other bed with a quick nod.
At least Dr. Wilson didn't seem to have any problems with Casey's methods of dealing with doctors.
Dr. Wilson examined House's chart briefly and talked to him for a bit. He seemed to ask questions, but House just answered with a grunt or other monosyllabic answer.
He sat down next to House and handed him some papers. Claudia noticed Wilson lightly place his hand on House's left shin as he talked in low tones. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the air was fairly somber.
Wilson visibly checked the swelling around House's hips. "How does your leg feel?"
House glared.
"Let me rephrase. Any numbness or tingling?"
"No."
"Have you had any muscle spasms in your thigh?"
"No."
Wilson checked House's toes for capillary refill. "Looks okay. Dr. Mathis will be in later to more thoroughly check things out."
Wilson sat down in the chair close to House's bed on his left side.
"Now that you're a little more awake, I thought you might want to see all the details." Wilson handed House the results from all his blood tests. He also had images ready for House to look at.
House grabbed them and then realized he still didn't have his glasses.
House let out a sigh, "Wilson, I can't read these."
"What's wrong with them?" Wilson reached for them back.
House softly replied, "I need my glasses."
"Oh, where are they?" Wilson kicked himself for not remembering them. He knew House was sensitive about how often he needed his glasses – although he would never admit it.
"The corner of the desk in my office"
"Okay. I'll get them."
Wilson left the room. House squinted at the results as if his vision might fix itself.
House knew Claudia and Casey were no doubt watching, but he was feeling vulnerable at the moment. He decided to pretend he was alone.
When Wilson came back, House grabbed for the glasses. His hands were shaking and he had trouble grabbing them. After a couple of fumbles, he got them.
House really didn't want to admit how nervous he was about looking at all of his results. He knew what Wilson and Mathis had said, but he wouldn't know exactly how bad everything was until he got a look for himself.
He started reading through the results. He took the images as Wilson handed them to him.
"Wilson, this is bad. Heck, some oncologists would just recommend palliative treatment."
Wilson nodded, "I corresponded with several other top oncologists and I think you deserve to know what they thought."
Wilson was starting to doubt whether he should tell House these things. Last night, he got the impression that House was willing to do treatment, but he knew House didn't know all of the details last night.
"That is what several of them suggested." Wilson held his breath for House's response.
"What are you suggesting? Do you seriously think I'll recover?"
Wilson sighed, "Odds aren't good. The metastasis into your bones is very bad. There may be more in other parts of your body that we don't know about yet."
"Is there ANY chance I'll get past this – into remission?" House's imploring look was unnerving. He had never seen House ask him anything this seriously.
"Yes, there is a chance." Wilson met House's gaze.
He saw something in House's eyes that he had never seen before: pure, unconcealed fear.
House gulped. Wilson could tell he was groping for words.
"Okay. Let's do it." House's voice cracked on the short sentence.
"You ready for this?"
"I'm too stubborn to give up." House gave Wilson a reluctant half smirk.
Wilson knew that House's stubborn nature would be crucial in getting him through this.
Wilson took a deep breath.
"If you're going to have a shot at this, we've got to hit this it hard. We have to get this orthopedic crud taken care of before chemo or radiation, but there is one thing we can do while you are under for this surgery. One option for treatment is hormone therapy. Testosterone is necessary for prostate cancer growth. "
"Please tell me you're not about to suggest what I think you're about to suggest."
Wilson grimaced, "House, it's not a cure; however, it can slow the growth and spread. We know this cancer is more aggressive than most cases of prostate cancer and we know it is spreading. Testosterone production would be reduced by about 90 percent. This isn't a cure, but it can help. This is a good option in conjunction with the other therapies you'll be starting."
House gulped and asked, "What about medication to block testosterone?"
"It increases the chance of blood clots. You know your history and the fact is you will be laid up for a while and immobile."
House and Wilson sat in silence for a moment. Wilson was starting to think that House might not reply and that he should give him some time to process.
"Wilson, I'm not going to have testicles." House whispered this without even looking at Wilson.
"I know House. I know." Wilson gave House's shoulder a quick squeeze.
Wilson sensed that House needed a few minutes alone, so he quietly left without another word.
Claudia had absolutely no idea what that discussion entailed, but it was obviously emotionally taxing to both men.
After Wilson left she saw House close his eyes and lean his head back. He couldn't physically turn his body, but she could tell he wanted to. He just turned his head towards the wall and brought his hand up to his face. She thought she heard a couple of sniffles, but it was hard to tell.
Not long after Wilson left, a nurse entered the room. Based on her past interactions with House, she was very surprised to see him looking vulnerable.
"Dr. House, would you like some ice chips? We aren't going to give you any solids because the doctors aren't sure when they will be operating. Your IV is giving you basic fluids."
"Yes."
"Okay, can I get you anything else?"
House gave the nurse a slight shake of the head.
The nurse turned to Casey, "Do you need anything?"
Casey sent her a scowl, but Claudia replied, "No, but thank you for checking."
Claudia's obsessive politeness to medical staff drove Casey nuts. He could see her rationale, but it seemed fake.
The nurse left to retrieve a small cup of ice and a spoon. When she walked back in the room, House appeared very somber. She wasn't sure if she should hand him the cup or offer to spoon them into his mouth. He had surgery less than twelve hours ago and she wasn't allowed to raise the head of the bed at all. She decided to play it by ear.
He didn't reach for the cup as she approached and he didn't even seem to register her presence.
"Dr. House, I can't raise the head of the bed any because of your hip. Would you like help?"
"I can do it." Dr. House's hand was lightly trembling as he reached for the cup.
She handed him the cup and the spoon.
The nurse continued to stand there after giving him the cup of ice. Presumably, she was waiting to take the cup when he was done.
House sarcastically asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"
He really didn't want her standing there while he fumbled with the ice. He couldn't remember ever being this exhausted. He actually considered letting her spoon the ice into his mouth, but he still had a reputation to maintain.
The nurse looked a bit rattled, "Press the call button if you need anything."
House rested his shaky forearm against his chest and stared at the cup. House was exhausted, but his mouth was quite dry. He decided to forego the spoon and just dump a few into his mouth.
Mission accomplished: two pieces of crushed ice successfully placed in his mouth. He figured he would just leave the cup on the bedside table to his right.
Once he reached forward he realized the table was a little bit too far away. The thing was on wheels – who the heck leaves a patient's bedside table out of his reach?
He'd need to lean just a bit to his right to put the cup there. Okay. If he rested his forearm on the rail of the bed and used it to hold his weight, his hip should be fine. Then, he could just extend his arm with the cup. Excellent plan. Now, to just…House's gasp was audible as he leaned toward his hip. Even though his weight was actually on his forearm instead of his hip, the pain was horrific. With an audible gasp he reached for his hip with one hand and his thigh with the other. As he moved his hand he managed to dump the ice down his chest. Once his forearm was no longer holding his weight, it felt like a freight train slammed onto his hip.
He was panting, in even more pain, and covered in ice. This was just spectacular.
His field of vision was suddenly filled with the woman from across the room.
"Let me just get this ice before it melts."
Claudia carefully collected the ice off his chest and abdomen. After gathering the ice, she left her hand lightly resting on his chest.
She hadn't touched a man in ages and she suddenly found herself aroused.
House was torn on his options. He could yell at her to get away from him or he could show his appreciation somehow. She was hot.
He couldn't believe it, but he instinctively placed his hand over her hand that was still resting on his chest. House rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. Her hand was soft and the warmth felt delicious against his chest. Before he could stop himself, "What is your name?"
She responded, "Claudia."
He had no idea what was controlling his mouth, "That's a beautiful name. Claudia, your hands are so soft." WTF? "Thank you, Claudia." Okay, salvage time…
"Anytime. What's your name?" Claudia already knew his name, but she felt like she should reciprocate. Not to mention, she was apparently unable to think right now.
"People call me House, but you can call me anything you want. My first name is Greg." Was he seriously flirting?
"I can manage that, Greg." Claudia leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Despite the pain, House found himself smiling.
Casey's voice drifted into her conscious thoughts, "Sis? Come here."
Claudia squeezed House's hand and sprung into action to get over to Casey.
As soon as she got over to Casey she saw mischief in his eyes. He whispered, "Seriously, sis? Don't you think you should slow down a bit? I thought you were about to climb up in bed with him!"
Casey saw the dreamy look on his sister's face – a look he had never seen before. "I'm afraid I would hurt him if I tried."
At first he thought she was joking, but Casey realized that she wasn't kidding at all.
"Seriously? Go get me a tissue or something. Make yourself look useful."
Claudia walked to the bathroom to grab a tissue.
Casey looked over at his roommate and saw a similar look on his face. Was cupid hiding in here someplace? If these two looked any dreamier there'd be little cartoon hearts flying around and corny music playing!
Casey wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. That would remain to be seen.
House couldn't quit thinking about Claudia. She was beautiful. She came over to him when he needed help, but didn't make him feel helpless or ashamed of needing someone.
Some people had to make a huge production of helping. It seemed that every time he went to the store and was carrying a bag out someone would get the door for him. That was great and helpful, but they always had to accompany it with, "Here, let me get the door since you have that cane. Do you need me to carry something?" It was always loud so that everyone nearby would know he had a cane and someone was helping him with the door. Why can't they just open the door, he pass through the door and nod thanks? In the winter people sometimes felt the need to include, "Be careful on the ice. It sure is slick – I'd hate to see you fall." Yes, he needed help sometimes and he actually did appreciate it. He just wished people could be more subtle about it.
She made it feel natural – both yesterday with the handholding and now with the spill.
Who ever thought spilling ice on yourself with a pillow wedged between your legs, a big honkin' brace on your broken and already crippled leg, a breezy hospital gown, and a catheter could feel sexy. Oh, don't forget the gurgling machine attached to the cold wrap he had strapped around his waist. Despite all of this, the way she looked at him felt hot!
My gosh, he was hurting. He hadn't been in this much pain since his infarction. Everything felt stiff, too. At least he could wiggle a little bit, but he didn't know how long that would last. Based on what Mathis said, he wouldn't be able to move at all one he was "placed in" this brace after surgery. More surgery! He still felt so weak after this past one. Anesthesia had always made him feel like crud.
It suddenly hit him again that not only would he wake up trapped in some contraption, his testes would be gone.
He found himself attracted to this woman, but what would she think if she knew he was about to lose…his manhood.
He'd still have his penis, but between the prostate cancer, lack of testicles, and almost eliminated testosterone, it was possible that he might not be able to get an erection again for a long time. He wondered how much this would affect his sex drive.
He never planned to have kids anyway, but would a woman want him if he didn't have any balls? He already had his bad leg and cranky demeanor going against him, but this would really kill his sex appeal.
A few minutes ago Claudia had made him feel attractive, but now he just felt trapped inside a cancer-riddled, broken body.
I have had a few messages asking, so I will go ahead and say that I do not intend for this to be a deathfic. I won't make promises, but it is not in my outline of current plans. There will definitely be a good deal of angst, though. (and some other stuff!)
Thanks for reading!