Chapter 36

Letting Go

Two police officers wandered into the emergency waiting room and asked if anyone there was related to the woman who had been in the auto accident. House stood up and the police walked over to him."I'm Officer Jensen and this is Officer Mattison, are you related to the lady in the car?"

"Yes I'm her husband, Gregory House."

"We were the first officers on the scene after your wife's car crash. I have her purse here for you and we have some packages that were pulled out of the trunk of the car before it was hauled off. They're in our cruiser; we'll go out and get them in a minute. Before we give her purse to her, what's her name?"

"Moron didn't you just get it from her driver's license like any intelligent person would?"

"House!" Wilson yelled.

"Sorry. Her name is Kenna Rachel Palmer M.D., Ph.D. How did this happen?"

"They say she swerved to miss a deer, hit ice and slammed into a tree."

"Damn… was anyone else hurt?"

"No sir. We just wanted to return the purse and packages to you. We'll go out and get them. We're very sorry sir; we hope she's all right."

House looked down at his feet and nodded. "Thank you."

The police came back with several shopping bags and placed them at House's feet and then left. House waited another five minutes and then jumped up and ran back to the emergency room. Wilson ran after him with the bags, both arriving just as Kenna was being wheeled to the elevator to go to surgery.

"Wait, where are you going with her?" House asked, his tone conveying his overwhelming worry.

One of the three emergency room doctors scrambled over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "She has internal bleeding, we've got to get her up into surgery. She's lost her spleen and we know she cracked and broke several ribs, one punctured her left lung. She has a broken femur and we're going to need an MRI to see why she's still unconscious. But right now we need to get inside and find out where the bleeding is coming from. She's in bad shape House."

He could barely get it out, "The baby?"

The doctor looked sadly at him and shook his head. "No sounds of fetal heartbeat."

House had chills going down his spine- she was going to feel hopeless when she woke. Surprisingly, he felt deeply moved by the death of the baby, as if the other injuries were small compared to this loss. It was all too much. House looked up and saw Cuddy running towards him followed by Thirteen, Chase and Foreman. "Great,' he said, "A cluster fuck."

Cuddy didn't bother asking House because she wanted a straight answer. She looked at Wilson, "Well?"

"She's in surgery, internal bleeding, still unconscious, some broken bones, broken ribs, punctured lung and she lost her spleen. The baby is gone."

Cuddy turned and shook her head sadly. "House, I'm sorry. I'll go up to surgery and see what I can do, if anything."

Everyone looked appropriately sad and depressed. House turn to Thirteen, "What's going on with the patient?"

"The treatment's working so far."

House shook his head yes and then headed towards the elevator. Wilson went with him. House turned to Wilson, "What? Are you my shadow?"

"I am today. You know she's my friend too."

"Yeah, well I'm going to the observation room."

"Are you sure you want to watch this?"House gave Wilson a sly smile, "With me standing over them, do you think they'll do it wrong?"

Wilson smiled back.

They went up to the observation deck, sat down and watched as Kenna continued to bleed and the surgeon frantically looked for the bleeder.

"Damn, I can't find it! Hook up another unit of blood; we're going to be here for awhile."

It took another hour for him to find and sew the bleeder and to evacuate the blood which was continuing to collapse the left lung. House had no complaints; the surgeon was doing his best. When it came time to sew Kenna up, Cuddy sent in the best plastic surgeon in the hospital. He took quite a long time to sew Kenna up with tiny micro stitches that would help minimize her scarring. When they were wheeling her into recovery, House ran down the stairs and walked alongside the gurney. As soon as the orderlies and nurses left her, House walked over and examined the bruised and cut face, the bandages, the tubes going everywhere, the oxygen mask and then he closed his eyes. He was paralyzed because there was nothing he could do for her. Grabbing her hand, he kissed it and said, "Kenna, I'll be back later, sweetheart."

House went out and met with the surgeon who said, "She should be ok if she doesn't pick up an infection. I don't know if there's been any brain injury until we get the MRI, but that will be worked up by Foreman."

House went back to his office and reviewed his patient's latest results. A few minutes later Foreman called him with news, "House, we're taking her back into surgery. She has an epidural hematoma-her brain is swelling. We're going in to relieve some of the pressure and remove the blood clot."

They talked about her stats and the operation and when he hung up House realized that he wanted a drink, badly. Instead he gave Wilson a call, told him what was going on and they both went up to ICU. They were shaving her hair off so that they could perform the craniotomy. House looked at the reddish blonde hair lying on the floor and shook his head. He could see that one of her pupils was dilated and the other was static. This is a nightmare. This is what you get for loving someone so much. Foreman was keenly aware that the woman under the knife was not only his mentor, but the wife of the biggest asshole in town. If he slipped up his life would be hell.

But House was proud of the work Foreman did. He was also grateful to have the company in the observation room. Wilson, Cuddy, Thirteen, Chase and two of the university lab doctors were present in the observation room even though the anxious looks did him no good. After it was over, Foreman went up to House and told him that it looked like it worked and the brain was releasing the pressure that had built up. By the time House reached the ICU, Kenna was hooked up again and looking painfully helpless in the hospital bed. He grabbed the chart from Foreman and read through it. Once again, there was nothing he could do; everything that could be done for her had been done. Now it was just a matter of time.

"Permanent Brain injury?" House asked Foreman.

"We don't yet. She took a pretty big hit. Why didn't you buy her a car with air bags instead of driving that big heap around?"

House said nothing; he just kept looking through her chart. Foreman rolled his eyes and went to get cleaned up. It was a light night in the ICU and quiet; it always was closer to Christmas because most surgeries and procedures were postponed until after the holidays.

House called Cuddy up to the ICU. She was tired and worried about House and Kenna. "All right, House, what do you want?"

"I want a bed. I want a bed next to hers." He pointed to the ICU stall next to Kenna.

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders and said, "OK, we'll bring one in for you. What else?"

"That's it for now."

Cuddy went over and looked through Kenna's chart. "When are they going to do the abortion to recover the fetus?"

"I don't know. Right now they just want to see if she's going to respond to the crainiotomy."

"God, House, I'm so sorry. I really am. I like Kenna a lot; she's been good for you and for this hospital. I wish there was something I could do. I'll be back up before I go home tonight."

Lisa went over to the nurse and pointed to the spot next to Kenna. Within fifteen minutes a bed for House had been delivered and set up. He went down to the cafeteria and ate with Wilson and then went to his office, grabbed a couple of journals and went back up to ICU. He lay down to read and fell asleep within a few minutes. Around midnight he woke up, got up, took a leak and went over to check on her. Taking out a light scope, he was visibly relieved to see that her pupils were reacting normally. He bent down and kissed her forehead. "You look like Sinead O'Connor after a run-in with an angry Jesuit. They shaved your head so Foreman could do brain surgery. He got in there and found out you don't have a brain, just a humongous Intel computer chip. It's being replaced, but they had to order a new one...your model has been discontinued. I'm thinking that this new bald look could get you a few sympathy votes and we could run you for mayor. Of course, right now with the nice abstract pattern of cuts on your face, you might scare away more votes than you would attract. You also have a couple of scars from your breastbone down to your navel, kind of looks like one of those frogs you dissect in biology."

He finally stopped when he looked down and realized that everything he thought was important in his world was lying on this hospital bed. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her. Trying not to cry, he kept choking up and clearing his throat. One of the night nurses at the desk looked up and gave him a look of sympathy. He drew the curtain and sat down.

"Kenna, please I'm not good at this bedside vigil thing. Please come out of the coma and back to me."He saw her pulse elevate slightly and he smiled. He grabbed her hand and kissed her little fingers again and then the palm of her hand. It was about the only thing that wasn't covered in cuts or tubes. He was putting her hand down when he felt a finger move. "Kenna, do that again."The movement was small but noticeable. She tried to close her hand around his. He started laughing, tears streaming down his face. He kissed her hand again.

Foreman, still hanging around to monitor Kenna's recover, opened the curtain. Seeing the tears in House's eyes, he didn't know what to say or do so he put his hand on House's shoulder. House gave him a look that said 'remove the hand-now.'

Wiping his eyes, House said, "She moved her hand in response to my direction. Twice."

Foreman's eyes grew big with excitement and then he smiled. After examining her pupils, he said, "Kenna you've had an epidural hematoma, we did a crainiotomy-"

House interrupted, "You don't have to tell her, I told her all you found was a old model computer chip and we're waiting to replace it."

Foreman looked at House like he was crazy. "What?"

"Nothing. This is a good sign, right?"

"An excellent sign, but I'd like to see it." Foreman took Kenna's hand in his. "Kenna, squeeze my hand." There was no response.

House frowned at him, "You don't have the touch. Here." He grabbed Kenna's hand away from him. "Kenna, squeeze my hand if you'd like to have sex in your hospital bed before you're released."

The little fingers curled and Foreman started laughing. "Ok, that's a good sign. But no sex for you for a few weeks...you don't want to elevate your blood pressure."

"Don't worry Kenna, what does the big bad black wolf know anyway? He never was much fun."

A few minutes later, House went back to the bed and fell back to sleep, this time into a deep sleep brought from the relief he felt. Around four in the morning he got up, went over and grabbed her hand again. "Are you going to open your eyes or keep me in suspense?" He laughed when he saw two little slits open. He kissed her hand and said, "That's a good girl."

She squeezed a little harder. By the end of the day she was able to open her eyes and track House as he juggled in front of her. "Are you watching? This is where it gets good, I add a fourth ball. Aghh." The balls went all over the bed and floor. He chased them down.

During visitors hours she was only suppose to have one person at a time but of course an entire gaggle of doctors from her lab and department invaded the ICU. The nurse tried to shoo them away but it was no use. Doctors didn't listen to nurses. House was laying down on top of his bed while everyone else was standing or sitting in chairs.

Cuddy sat down on the edge of his bed. "The press is a nightmare. They want updates every half hour. I told them I'd give it to them every two hours. Should we take a photo and share it with them so that they know she's alive?"

House turned to Kenna who had her eyes open. "Honey, are you ready for your closeup?" There was a slight smile that crossed Kenna's lips and everyone laughed, expressing relief.

Foreman was very happy with her progress. By the second day, Kenna was trying to talk but had a hard time thinking of words. Her voice came out in a whisper. House bent down and watched her lips say, "Baby?"

He grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. "Sweetheart, the baby didn't make it." He heard a muffled, primal moan come from somewhere inside of her body and her eyes teared up. House touched her forehead and held her hand up to his lips. "I know, I know. But we'll figure that all out when you're better. Right now you need to concentrate on getting healthy. Please Kenna, just think about getting better."

But the tears poured down her cheek and onto the bandages for several minutes and her chest heaved painfully up and down. Her blood pressure spiked and her pulse elevated. The nurses came over and looked at the beeping monitor. They looked at the tears coming down her face and asked, "What happened?"

"I told her about the baby."

They nodded their heads and one said, "Oh. Dr. Palmer, you need to concentrate on bringing your blood pressure down or we'll have to give you some more drugs. We'd like to keep you as drug free so that they don't mask any additional problems that may come up. So let's start breathing slowly and as deeply as you can."

House motioned for the nurses to leave and then leaned in to Kenna. "Kenna, look at me."

She wouldn't look.

"Look at me!"

She finally focused on him.

"I wanted the baby too because I knew it was going be a part of you. But it's not going to happen. We're going to have to try again later. Next time maybe we can do it the old fashion way...boy on top. I know you prefer a turkey baster, but I'm thinking it might be fun putting our private parts together. Come on-please breathe and think about something else."

She started to breathe slowly and deeply, her blood pressure slowly dropping. He kissed her hand again. "That's good, very good."

Holding her hand, he waited until she went back to sleep and then he went to the cafeteria.

Wilson stopped by with a backpack full of his clothes and said, "You two need a bigger place. Poor Kenna has to hang her clothes in the front closet? The press is outside of your apartment and the hospital. You really need to give a statement. Do you want me to go out and give one?"

"Have Foreman do it, he's her doctor. I'm taking a shower."

When Wilson and House got back up to ICU Chase, Foreman and two nurses were running around Kenna's bed. House ran to the bed just in time to see Kenna having a seizure.

"What happened? When I left she was fine."

Chase turned to him and with a worried look and responded, "She has a fever, 103 F, probably an infection. She started having a seizure in response to it."

House watched Chase and the others hang a bottle of Vancomycin and take a blood sample to send to the lab. Kenna stopped seizing and Foreman gave House a look of relief. Foreman nodded affirmatively to House and he nodded back. Her infection lasted several days and House worried about her getting sepsis but the Vancomycin seemed to do the trick. After five days, House went home and collapsed. He grabbed a bottle of whisky and poured himself a drink but then realized he needed to stay sober if they needed him back at the hospital.

After ten days they moved her to a private room which seemed like Grand Central Station. In fact, strangers were stepping into her room and snapping photos with their cell phones. The hospital stepped in, requiring all cell phones on the ward be left at the nurses' station. The day after she was moved to the private room the obstetrician did the abortion. House was with her and, even though they put her under for the procedure, he held her hand all the way through.

The obstetrician asked House, "Would you like to see your daughter? She looks like she was well formed for 21 weeks."

House stood up and went over to the table where the baby had been placed in a large stainless steel bowl lined with a flat crib sheet. She was perfectly formed-ten tiny toes and fingers; the sweetest little ears and tiny little eyelashes framed her closed eyes. She looked slightly gray. It was so strange to be staring at the end of so many hopes and plans. There would be no nanny like they had decided, no pre-school, no college fund-just a funeral. He didn't know why he did it, but he reached down and stroked her little face and hand causing his stomach to roll and heart to start pounding. He thought for a minute it was a heart attack but then realized it was just a panic attack. He started to breathe through the attack. House looked over at the obstetrician and nodded. She in turn nodded to the nurse who covered the baby and took her away.

"I'm afraid she's old enough that she has to have a proper cremation or burial. What have you decided?"

House could barely answer, "Cremation?"

"Would you like to give her a name?"

"Blythe Floie Palmer-House."

"Well, that's a mouth full!" The obstetrician laughed as she took off her gloves. She was surprised as to how sober House was. He wasn't making any flippant remarks or calling anyone names. He was obviously very sad. She felt sorry for him, he was going through a lot and even though he was a jerk, he didn't deserve this. After patting House on the back, she left the room.

House was sick of being sad. He wanted this year to be over and it had just started. He looked at the operating table and wished Kenna was healthy again so that he could finally have a drink and get shit-faced. He needed it.

His Mom was going to fly out to help take care of Kenna when she came home so he had rented a roll-away bed for her to sleep on in the living room. Wilson was right, he needed a bigger place. A week later, Kenna was given the ok to go home. She had a cast on her leg, bandages to support her broken and cracked ribs and her head was still wrapped in bandages giving her a modified Mummy look, but she was ready to get out of the hospital. House started out the door and the press converged on them. Kenna waved to the cameras as House scowled.

House wheeled her out to the brand new Escape Hybrid, the car she had hinted she wanted several months ago. He loaded her up and helped her put on her seat belt before they roared out of the parking lot.

"You ok?" He asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I know you've been through a lot." She paused and asked, "Did you see her before she was cremated?"

"Is it really important?" The last thing he wanted to remember was looking at his dead daughter.

"Yes, it is to me. I want to know that one of her parents acknowledged her before she was..."

He saw she was headed for a melt down and wanted to cut it off at the pass, "Yes, yes, yes, I saw her. She was perfect, down to her little eyelashes. She was beautiful."

Kenna was crying and nodding her head, she could barely whisper, "Thank you...thank you."

"For God's sake Kenna, don't thank me, she was my daughter too."

Kenna looked at him and smiled, glad that he felt that way.

Living with his mother was difficult for House because she treated him like a little boy. "Mom, I'm over 50, cut it out. Just concentrate on Kenna."

"You know, she's pretty upset over the baby."

"Duh...of course she would, the baby had a 25% chance of survival at her age. We lost our daughter."

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that the physical stuff will be easy for her, but I'm not sure that she's dealing well with the loss of the baby. I think she needs to see and talk to someone."

House thought about it and realized his mother was probably right. He had been dealing with his own feelings and exhaustion and hadn't fully thought about Kenna's mental health. "Ok, I'll arrange for it."

Xoxoxxoxooxox

Thank God for Blythe. I was sinking fast and she could see it. Greg arranged for me to see a psychologist, Dr. Hamm. She was very professional, understanding and finally made me acknowledge the loss by making me bring in Blythe's ashes and insisting I talk to my daughter-tell her everything I needed to tell her before the ashes were spread. It took two hours but Dr. Hamm canceled her next appointment and let me stay so that I could work through the pain. I felt like a weight had been lifted, but was so exhausted from all the crying that I went home and collapsed.

Greg was no saint. He soon became frustrated with my incapacitation, sick of everything that had happened and my reaction. After his mom went home, he hated having to wait on me while I healed. He would give me deep sighs if I asked him to bring home some food or get groceries on his way home, making me feel like a parasite. He also started spending more time at work or at the betting parlor. Eventually, I stopped bothering him. It just seemed to be easier on us if I didn't ask for his help.

By the summer I was back to work. My scar, the one down my chest was still noticeable but not by much. My leg healed nicely and I had a scar on my head that didn't any hair. But I had enough hair that grew in around it so that it wasn't noticeable. I decided to keep my hair shorter; it was so much easier to deal with. I was worried that Greg didn't find me attractive anymore because he wouldn't look at me when I was naked or try to feel me up or any of the things he usually did. We didn't have sex even though I told him I was feeling ok and thought I could handle it. He wouldn't answer me if I suggested sex, refusing to stop watching television or reading a book. I felt more alone than I ever had in my life.

Xoxoxoxoxo

The only way that people can hurt you is if you love them. I realized that while staring at Kenna in the hospital bed the night of her accident. I wanted to trade my life for hers, make sure she would live. But I realized then that I couldn't keep her safe. It would always be this way if I cared about her. I would always be worried about whether she would make it safely home, stay healthy, eat right. I didn't want to care anymore. It hurt to care. It hurt a lot.

Seeing my infant daughter in a stainless steel bowl, gray and dead as a doornail, was the turning point. I just couldn't take this. I didn't want this overwhelming feeling of being helpless and out of control just like I felt as a child. I had let myself love again and see what it got me? A sickening feeling of having no control in my life.

I felt smothered by all the feelings and doubts swirling around inside me. To make things worse, she needed me. She needed me to get her a pen, a glass of water, cook dinner, hand her the clicker. It was too much. I'm too selfish...it was easier to just ignore her. If I did ignore her, she would eventually do it herself. So what if it took her thirty minutes to get out to the kitchen and get a glass of water?

God I was tired. I was tired of hospitals, pain, stitches, broken bones, dead babies, convalescing spouses-I was just sick and tired of it all. I began to ignore the issues, my feelings and Kenna. I didn't go with her and my Mom when they spread Blythe's ashes on Lake Carnegie. What a waste of time. The baby was dead...put the ashes in the trash and let's get on with life.

I guess I was drinking too much, but the dullness the alcohol brought made it easier to ignore her and her needs. I had to laugh when she suggested that we make love. I had about as much desire to make love to her as I did to Wilson...and that's a big no-desire. I guess I made my point the night she made her move.

"Greg, I think I'm up for a little horizontal tango. The doctor said it was ok." She reached down and started stroking me but I just kept thinking of her on the gurney, all bloody and broken and my daughter laying in a stainless steel bowl. She became frustrated when I didn't respond."Don't you want to make love?"

"Jesus Kenna, look at you. I'd rather make love to Frankenstein's monster; at least he has fewer scars." I knew by the look on her face that I had just pulled the carpet out from under her. I knew what I had done and I didn't care.

Xoxoxoxox

The fact that my husband found me less attractive than Frankenstein's monster was devastating. I hadn't realized how ugly I looked until he told me. The next day after he had gone to work I stood in the nude and looked in the mirror. The scar was hardly noticeable but I guess he could see it. The one on the head really wasn't noticeable or at least that's what I thought. It didn't matter; I couldn't arouse Greg no matter what I did. He refused to look at me when I was naked and he refused to hold me in bed. I told my analyst what was going on and she seemed more worried about Greg than me, claiming that she wanted me to bring him in for a session.

"Greg, Dr. Hamm wants you to come in for a session with me. She's concerned about our marriage. She thinks you may need to talk to someone."

"I don't need some psychologist telling me I'm screwed up, I know it."

"She doesn't want to tell you that you're screwed up, she wants to help you fix your life."

"Do you hear what you're saying? That someone can fix me? Do you know how ludicrous you sound?" He shook his head in disgust.

"I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that she wants to help us with our problems."

"Oh, she's going to suddenly make you pretty and attractive again?"

I think I actually recoiled; I was so hurt and devastated. "Greg, what are you doing? Why are you being so hateful? Did I do something, say something? If I did, please tell me so I can make it right. I can't take this ...I love you so much. Do you still love me?"

oxoxoxo

When I couldn't answer her she grabbed her keys and left. I don't know where she went and frankly, I didn't care. It was nice to have the apartment to myself again. I finally went to bed and slept soundly for the first time in months.

She didn't come home that night. I'm not sure when she came home but she was there the next afternoon when I got home. Her eyes looked swollen and she was sitting in the easy chair. I sat down on the couch. After a few minutes I finally told her, "Kenna, I'm sorry, I really don't know why, but I don't think this is going to work. I don't feel the same way that I used to. I want a divorce."

oxoxoxoxo

Divorce? Divorce? I hadn't even made it to my first anniversary. "Greg, please don't do this. I love you so much. We can work this out. You love me, I know you do."

He bent over and put his head in his hands, "Kenna, I did love you, I really did, but I've realized that loving you is too hard. I can't do it. I look at you and I feel numb, nothing. I don't find you attractive or desirable. Please, let's end this without a lot of drama. I don't want anything. If you want something I have, take it. I owe you."