House has spent the night at Mayfield for observation. You will probably be irritated with him after you read this.
Another Sixty Minutes
"How are you this morning, Greg?"
"Okay."
"How did you sleep?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
"What?"
"You're awfully calm."
"Something wrong with that?"
"I don't know, is there?"
"…"
"You shouldn't be calm, Greg. You should be incredibly anxious right now."
"Well, I'm not."
"Why not?"
"It's called willpower. I thought you'd be happy that I wasn't…freaking out, climbing the walls."
"I would be...except that considering the circumstances, you should be freaking out and climbing the walls."
"…"
"You haven't had a drink in over twelve hours. I tapered you down to point five milligrams of Ativan, every six hours. You should be extremely anxious right now. You should have a fever, be sweating, nauseated, tachycardic, dehydrated, and paranoid."
"Everyone experiences withdrawal differently."
"It seems like you're not experiencing it at all."
"I don't know what you want me to say…sorry?"
"Why would you choose to employ that particular phrase?"
"…"
"You feel guilty about something, feel the need to apologize for something?"
"No."
"You look guilty, Greg."
"No, I look annoyed. This is my annoyed face. I get annoyed when people accuse me of things."
"But I haven't accused you of anything, have I?"
"..."
"What have I accused you of?"
"I don't know."
"What should I be accusing you of?"
"Nothing."
"Unless..."
"..."
"Who'd you scam?"
"Why the hell would you assume…"
"Because it fits."
"..."
"Because you've done it before."
"Right. Thanks."
"And because that's the only logical explanation for why you wouldn't be detoxing now."
"Not necessarily."
"Dammit, Greg."
"Uh oh...somebody's mad."
"Yeah, I am."
"That's not very professional, doc. You're supposed to remain objective. You can't get emotionally involved with your patients."
"Is this a joke to you?"
"No. I'm just saying, you know…chill out."
"You're going to treat this like a joke?"
"I'm not."
"You're smiling."
"I can't smile? It's...funny. I'm amused."
"You think this is funny."
"You trying to be all authoritative is funny..."
"How high are you?"
"Oh, for God's sake..."
"You want me to get angry with you? Is that it?"
"..."
"You want me to confront you with consequences for your actions?"
"Yeah. That's totally what I want. It's a massive turn on. You should ask Wilson what happens when he puts on his big boy pants and..."
"Does that make you feel good, knowing that you can walk all over me? Is that what you want in a therapist, someone you can manipulate and use? Why the hell would you want that?"
"…"
"You told me yesterday that you wished I had the power to make you stop abusing drugs."
"Yeah well, you obviously don't."
"I think I do."
"..."
"The problem is, I haven't been taking advantage of that power. I've allowed you too much freedom and inadvertently enabled you in the process."
"..."
"I've tried too hard to be your friend, when I'm not sure that's what you really need at all. You need someone to exercise authority over you, to set boundaries for you and help you to adhere to them."
"..."
"Things are going to change between you and me, Greg."
"It was only a matter of time."
"You're going to have to work very hard to regain my trust."
"Assuming I even care enough to do that."
"You don't?"
"..."
"That's fine. As of now, we're starting over from scratch."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that...I'm not discharging you until further notice. I'm revoking all of your privileges. As far as you're concerned, you're a level one. No grounds, no common area, no patio, no visitors, no phone. You can stay in your room, except for bathing, meals and sessions."
"You can't do that."
"Actually, I can."
"I signed myself in and I can sign myself out."
"True. But I can notify the medical licensing board that you're not mentally stable enough to practice. I can also report you to the DEA."
"You can't do that."
"Yes, I can."
"..."
"This is serious, Greg. You're here because you need help. If you insist on sabotaging your own recovery, I can't help you."
"Then don't. If I'm so much trouble, just discharge me. Why do you have to destroy my career over it?"
"Is that what you want…you want me to give up, just let you run your life into the ground?"
"Why do you care what I do?"
"I don't know, Greg. I only know that I do. And I'm not going to stop caring about you, just because you insist on self-destructing."
"..."
"But I'm also not going to continue to invest myself in someone who is actively working against their own recovery."
"Then don't."
"Think about it. Think about what you're actually saying. Think about what you're denying yourself."
"..."
"Think about whether or not you're planning to go the distance with me. Because if you're not, I need to know."
"..."
"All this time you've been afraid that I'd eventually get pissed off at you, that I'd eventually get fed up with your behavior. Well, guess what, Greg? I've officially reached my limit. I'm pissed off and I'm fed up."
"..."
"I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings. I don't know if this is just the drugs talking, or what. But I honestly don't think you give a damn about anyone or anything. While I'm sure you have decent reasons for being that way, that doesn't make it okay. It needs to change, before you end up killing yourself."
"..."
"So who did you scam?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Was it an employee or another patient?"
"Give it up, doc."
"I need to know who it was, Greg."
"Why?"
"So I can make sure it doesn't happen again."
"Oh, you think you're so clever. You think you've got this whole place wired? There are all kinds of things going on here that you know nothing about."
"I don't doubt it. But I also don't see how that's relevant to you."
"There's a woman named Elaine in detox who has half a gram of meth in a balloon stuffed up her twat and some guy named Trent, whose girlfriend brought him cookies with hash baked into them. And that was just this morning."
"Good to know. I'll certainly look into that. But right now, we're talking about you."
"..."
"So who was it?"
"It doesn't matter who it was."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll just find someone else."
"I'm going to make sure that you don't find someone else."
"Good luck with that."
"Who was it?"
"It doesn't matter."
"I will speak individually with every single employee of this hospital, until I figure out who it was you scammed."
"..."
"Seems like it would be easier if you just told me the truth."
"It was Marty."
"Marty...Marty Jensen...the shift nurse?"
"…"
"And how did you get the drugs out of him?"
"I gave him a pack of Camel Wides."
"That's it? He risked his career for a pack of cigarettes? Somehow I doubt it."
"And fifty bucks."
"In exchange for what?"
"..."
"That's okay. I can always ask him."
"And you think he'll tell you?"
"..."
"Ten milligrams of Valium."
"..."
"You happy now? Feel better knowing? Because I sure do. Wow, I feel super."
"He could lose his job over this. He will be, at the very least, suspended."
"Wonderful. Another life ruined by Gregory House."
"You don't think he should be subject to disciplinary action?"
"It wasn't like...trust me. It was all my idea."
"But he was a willing participant."
"I was very convincing. He was scared shitless. I doubt he's ever done it before and he probably won't ever do it again."
"You care that he's treated fairly."
"I care that he doesn't suffer for my mistake."
"He erred also, Greg. He knows better. He has no excuse. I can't have people working here, who are going to slip drugs to my patients. He's a liability."
"..."
"And you couldn't have taken all ten milligrams, or you wouldn't be lucid right now."
"..."
"So what did you do with the rest of it?"
"..."
"Okay, if that's the way you want to play it. I'm going to have to search your room and all your things."
"Don't bother."
"You've got it on you?"
"..."
"Let's have it."
"..."
"Greg...I'd really rather not have to take it by force."
"..."
"Thank you."
"..."
"You sure this is it?"
"I just told you, he only gave me ten milligrams. I realize it's probably been a while since you're last math class. But let me refresh your memory. I took five milligrams and there's five milligrams. That equals ten."
"What else have you got?"
"Why would you think..."
"Because I know you. You gave this up far too easily and you don't do anything without a backup plan."
"..."
"At the count of three I'm going to call a team of very large, very strong orderlies in here, and they will search every inch of you. And it will be humiliating and uncomfortable for both of us. I'd really rather not put you through that."
"..."
"One..."
"..."
"Two..."
"God, fine. Here."
"Five milligrams of Haldol...and these look like Darvocet and Soma. Where the hell did you get these?"
"I already told you, Marty."
"For fifty dollars and a pack of cigarettes?"
"I may have also blackmailed him."
"With what?"
"He's having an affair with a patient's daughter."
"What patient?"
"The old guy with the goatee, who thinks he's John The Baptist."
"But what would you need the Haldol for? You're already getting Abilify."
"Are you kidding? You know what I can get for five milligrams of Haldol around here?"
"I cannot believe you did this. I really can't."
"I can."
"What are we going to do about this? How are we going to deal with this? Where do we go from here?"
"Hell if I know."
"It sounds like you don't care either."
"I already told you that I don't want to be here. Me coming back was your idea."
"I don't think you want to know how angry I am right now."
"…"
"This is rock bottom, Greg. Congratulations. Scamming a nurse to get narcotics, while you're in detox is rock bottom."
"No kidding. Thanks."
"What's it going to take? Do I have to strap you to a bed, assign someone to watch you twenty-four hours a day?"
"…"
"Do you really want to get sober? Because I'm starting to wonder."
"Wanting something and being able to attain it are two different things. I've learned to embrace my limitations. Why can't you?"
"What's stopping you, Greg? What do you think is standing between you and sobriety?"
"Drugs mostly. But also...drugs."
"You think this is funny?"
"No, I just...it was a stupid question."
"But you're smiling."
"I'm...amused. I can't be amused?"
"You're amused by this?"
"Is there an echo in here?"
"I want to enroll you in our inpatient substance abuse program."
"No."
"That wasn't a question."
"It's not going to work."
"Why not?"
"I went through all of this psycho-crap already. I was here for four months. It didn't help."
"No...last time you were immediately transferred to the main ward after detox. You attended some of the substance abuse groups. But at the risk of being inconsiderate…you half-assed it. Dr. Bendell said you rarely spoke up. You didn't do any of your homework. When it was your turn to share, you either deflected or made some kind of joke, or turned the attention to someone else."
"And how long is this...program?"
"Nine weeks. Dr. Patel would be your attending. You would stay in ward four, attend groups specifically geared towards treating addiction, participate in one on one counseling with Dr. Patel and others who are specifically trained in that arena. You'd have homework to do. You and I would still meet once or twice a week. I can make time to see you more than that, if need be."
"..."
"This is the real deal, Greg. It's serious stuff. It's high security. There'd be no visitors, no phone calls, and limited privileges."
"Sounds like being in prison."
"It will be very difficult for you, yes. But I think it's the only way you're going to beat this."
"..."
"Tell me what you're feeling."
"No."
"You're angry with me now."
"Nope."
"It's okay if you are."
"..."
"This must be overwhelming."
"..."
"I can't imagine that you're not scared."
"..."
"I'm not abandoning you, Greg. I'm just establishing some boundaries."
"Right."
"Please tell me what you're feeling."
"Nine weeks is a long time."
"Yes, it is. But it's not forever."
"And I wouldn't be able to see Wilson?"
"Not for the first two weeks at least."
"Why?"
"Because he's an enabler. Because I think he might be part of the problem. You need to get away from him for a little while, at least until you figure all of this out."
"..."
"I know you don't want to do this. I'd rather you didn't have to stay here at all. But I simply can't release you back into the world, when I know the chances of you succeeding to stay sober are slim. I want you to succeed. I want you to be happy."
"Did it ever occur to you, that just might not be possible?"
"I'd prefer not to operate, based on that assumption."
"..."
"How do you normally deal with fear?"
"By not dealing with it."
"That doesn't seem to be working so well, though."
"…"
"Do you ever pray?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"See, I have trouble with the concept of prayer."
"Why's that?"
"You talk to God…you air your grievances, make your requests, and he does whatever the hell it was he was going to do anyway. Seems like a wasted conversation. It's like filing a complaint against the DMV."
"So you do believe in a God."
"I don't know."
"You either believe in God or you don't."
"I'm like anyone else. I want to make sense of things. Life would be a whole lot more easy to bear if we had someone to blame for all the shitty things that happened to us. That's all religion is, it's organized blame."
"I'm not sure I agree."
"I take it you're religious?"
"Not really. I believe in God. I sometimes pray. But I wouldn't consider myself to be particularly religious."
"You go to church?"
"My wife does. She's fairly involved, although I think it's more of a social thing for her. She plays bingo, attends study groups, sings with the choir."
"And she doesn't expect you to come along?"
"I go with her on Christmas and Easter."
"Why?"
"It makes her happy."
"But it doesn't make you happy."
"I've learned that there are some sacrifices worth making."
"…"
"I think that even if you don't believe in God, prayer and meditation can be very therapeutic."
"…"
"I also think it would help you to acknowledge the existence of some sort of higher power."
"Why?"
"It's one of the twelve steps. I've noticed that people who skip that step, tend to be less successful with their sobriety."
"How about...the Flying Spaghetti Monster?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you place your faith in something greater and more powerful than yourself."
"How about you?"
"I'm a human being. If you place your faith in me, I will ultimately fail you. I am not in charge of the universe, nor would I want to be."
"I don't know."
"Think about it, okay?"
"And what about this…substance abuse program?"
"Well, you'd have to go on disability again. You'd have to arrange to have a week's worth of clothing and toiletries brought to you, which I assume James would be more than happy to do. If you think you're going to have trouble getting the time off from work, let me know and I will sort it out with Dr. Cuddy."
"I'm going to end up living here for the rest of my life."
"No, you're not. This is temporary, Greg."
"Not temporary enough."
"Still, temporary."
"..."
"Have you ever prayed?"
"..."
"Is that yes or a no?"
"It's a waste of time."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I've never prayed for anything that actually came true."
"It's not like wishing on a star or throwing a coin into a fountain, I don't think. And that still doesn't answer my question."
"..."
"What did you pray for?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Why not?"
"..."
"How bad could it be?"
"I used to pray when I was a kid."
"For what?"
"That my dad would stop being an asshole."
"I see. And that apparently never came true. I can see why you would lose faith in God."
"..."
"How old were you when you stopped praying?"
"I don't know, ten or eleven?"
"You told me yesterday...that wasn't the only time you'd slipped."
"…"
"I need to know in what other ways you've slipped."
"Yeah…I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"…"
"Or you don't know if you're ready to tell me."
"..."
"Because that means committing to being sober. That means giving away all of your secrets."
"It's not just that."
"You're ashamed."
"There are some things about me that I'd really prefer that nobody know."
"Even me?"
"Especially you."
"It's understandable that you'd feel that way. But if nothing else, I want to be the person you can talk to, whose reaction you don't have to fear. I want you to be able to tell me anything."
"..."
"No more secrets, Greg."
"What do you want to know?"
"Recent slips. I want to gauge the severity of your addiction."
"I think you know more than enough to gauge the severity of my addiction."
"But I don't know everything, do I?"
"Well, just in the last month...I stole of bottle of Tylenol with codeine out of a nurse's locker."
"When did you do that?"
"Last Tuesday."
"Have you ever done anything like that before?"
"Sure."
"How many times?"
"I don't know, lots."
"Too many to count?"
"Maybe."
"How many did you take?"
"The whole bottle."
"And how long did it take you to go through that?"
"Less than two days."
"That's pretty fast."
"…"
"What else have you done recently?"
"I've been taking diphenhydramine."
"Sleeping pills?"
"Yeah."
"To sleep?"
"No just…you know, because."
"I see."
"I...chew them."
"So you absorb the medication faster."
"Yeah."
"What else?"
"I drank a few bottles of cough syrup."
"How many is a few?"
"It was actually more than a few."
"Why cough syrup?"
"Wilson cleaned out all the alcohol a few months ago, before we moved. But after we moved, I got some more and stashed it around the loft. He found it and got rid of it again. I got more...and he found it and got rid of it again. About a week ago, I waited until he was in bed and asleep. I drove down to the corner and picked up three bottles of Nyquil at the pharmacy. I ran out after about twelve hours. So I picked up a case on the way home from work."
"You went through an entire case of cough syrup in less than a week?"
"..."
"Why not just buy regular alcohol?"
"Wilson decided to quit drinking...you know, as some kind of solidarity thing. So he wasn't planning on having any around the house. Cough medicine was easier to hide. And if I got caught with it, I could just claim to be sick."
"Did you get caught with it?"
"I was careful, threw the bottles away in the dumpster behind our apartment. I don't think he noticed."
"You don't think James has noticed that you're drunk and high?"
"I'm not sure he can tell the difference anymore."
"I think that's very sad."
"No kidding."
"Is that everything?"
"No..."
"What else is there?"
"I'm not sure if can tell you."
"Why?"
"It's...incriminating."
"That's kind of the point."
"..."
"This is completely confidential."
"..."
"Whatever you did, it's between us. Okay? Even if it was illegal."
"I stole a few capsules of Percocet."
"Who from?"
"From one of our patients."
"How did you go about that?"
"They'd broken their wrist, as a result of osteomyelitis. We offered them the drugs for the pain, assuming they'd want them. Most patients do. But they declined."
"Why did they decline?"
"They were recovering from a drug addiction."
"What kind of drugs?"
"Amphetamines of some sort. I didn't ask."
"And you just took the pills."
"Yeah. Usually in situations like that, we return the drugs to stock. But I just...went around the corner to the stairwell and swallowed them."
"So you were at work when you did this?"
"Yep."
"Did anyone notice or inquire about what was done with the medication?"
"No."
"How often would you say you've come to work buzzed on something?"
"Well, I worked on Vicodin every day for almost ten years."
"How much would you take on a typical day?"
"Maybe...a hundred and forty milligrams."
"In a twenty-four hour period?"
"..."
"That's...seven thousand milligrams of acetaminophen a day. You're lucky your liver is still intact."
"..."
"Did you ever drink while you were practicing medicine?"
"…"
"Greg, once again…no judgment here. I just need to know."
"I…would sometimes drink while I was at work, usually after hours."
"Okay."
"I want to make it clear though, that I have never been drunk at work."
"How often would you say you drove while intoxicated?"
"Well, if we're counting Vicodin...most of the time."
"What about drunk?"
"A couple times."
"How many is a couple?"
"I don't know...ten?"
"That's more than a couple."
"I'm an excellent driver."
"Did you ever get a DUI?"
"Outside of that one time, no."
"Did you ever get into any accidents?"
"I laid my bike down in a parking lot last year. But other than that, no."
"Were you drunk when you did that?"
"No, actually."
"You're very lucky."
"I guess."
"Thank you for telling me these things. I can't imagine that it was easy."
"…"
"How do you feel about this?"
"About what?"
"About these things that you just told me?"
"I don't know. I guess…I don't know."
"You had a thought. Let's hear it."
"I'm not exactly proud of it. I mean, I know it seems like...this isn't who I wanted to be. It's just...the way it turned out."
"I know that."
"People...look down on addicts."
"What people?"
"Everyone…patients, employees, my boss, other doctors...you."
"I don't look down on you, Greg."
"..."
"You think other people look down on you, because you're an addict."
"Yeah."
"How does that make you feel?"
"..."
"Just give me a word, any word."
"Small."
"That's an interesting answer."
"No, I mean…when I was a kid, my dad would talk down to me. He'd talk to me like he was a drill sergeant and I was a cadet, and I remember feeling small. No matter how old I got, being around him, I always felt small. By the time I was fourteen, I was taller than he was. And I still felt...small."
"And you feel this way when you're around other people."
"Most people, yeah."
"Do you feel small when you're with me?"
"..."
"It's okay if the answer is yes."
"..."
"I don't want you to feel small, Greg."
"..."
"What about James?"
"What about him?"
"Do you feel small when you're with him?"
"Sometimes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"I think you have a lot of work to do still."
"..."
"How do you feel about that?"
"About what?"
"The knowledge that you have a long way to go."
"It's like...this is never going to be over."
"It will be. I promise. There is a light at the end of this tunnel. I can lead you to the other side. But only if you trust me."
"..."
"Do you trust me?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Tomorrow we're going to start digging into some of the meat of your issues."
"..."
"In the meantime, let's get you moved into ward four."
"..."
"You look like you have a lot on your mind."
"I guess I do."
"Care to share?"
"I just want you to know...I wasn't trying to walk all over you."
"I know it."
"I just…this is who I am. This is just how I treat people."
"What do you mean by that?"
"When I'm scared, I push people away."
"Scared of what?"
"I don't know. Maybe...of becoming attached?"
"Attached...you mean to me?"
"I don't think you realize..."
"Realize what?"
"How much nicer you are to me…than pretty much everyone else."
"What about James?"
"He's as nice to me as he can be."
"Implying that he could be nicer."
"..."
"Why do you think that is?"
"You don't know about half the shit I've put him through. He reached his boiling point a long time ago. He couldn't be objective now, even if he wanted to be."
"Has it occurred to you to discuss this with him?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I just couldn't."
"..."
"Sometimes I think…I'm daring him to leave. Because at least that way I wouldn't have to live in fear of losing him."
"You think he's going to leave you again?"
"No. But he could, if he wanted to."
"So you think that since he has the option of leaving you, he'll eventually take advantage of it."
"…"
"You can't live in fear, Greg. You've got find some way to enjoy what you've got."
"Does he have to know about this?"
"About what?"
"About me, you know..."
"Scamming drugs out of a nurse?"
"Not that he could possibly think any less of me than he already does."
"He's obviously going to want to know why you're staying here for another nine weeks. I think he should at the very least, be aware of the severity of your addiction."
"Trust me. He's aware."
"Okay. I won't tell him, if you don't want me to."
"Thanks."
