OF MOMENTS PAST
by entercreativename
Disclaimer - Wish I owned them, but I don't.
Synopsis - Ever have a dream you can't escape? House is stuck in his mind after a brush with a Vicodin overdose and needs to save the love of his life. But who is she? Please R&R. HouseStacy, HouseCameron, HouseWilson friendship.
DRAFT
CHAPTER 4 – THE PROXY
House slowly made his way to Wilson's office after he physically separated himself from the remnants of Stacy's blood that had previously drenched his hair and his clothing. He felt a strange sense of freedom and regret; freedom in that he no longer was imprisoned by the touch of her cells and her DNA, and regret in that she was no longer touching him in the most poetic of ways. He wanted to go to his office, to brood in his own distinct environment, but he also did not want to disturb Cameron at the moment. He still felt bad for her, but the feeling was beginning to pass. She had matured at that moment, the way she had matured with every other moment before this one, but this one seemed to mature her further. He sensed that she now knew that the same patients whose lives she was fighting for were the same ones keeping her from what she needed most: safety.
He arrived outside of his office and saw her silhouette possess his favorite chair and he noticed how old she looked in her restless sleep. She could barely sleep, every couple of seconds she would move, and then she would just wake up. She looked as if she were cold, and troubled. He saw the blanket on the desk next to her. Why had she not taken it? He then remembered her leg. In the weeks that he had just come after the infarction he slept the same way: he couldn't. He had always been a light sleeper and an insomniac, however, the pain radiating from his leg made it worse. He watched Cameron struggle to sleep from the hallway as he heard a set of familiar footsteps approach him from behind.
"There you are. Stacy is stable if you were wondering, or were you instead worried about Dr. Cameron's condition?"
House turned around to see Wilson standing behind him. "Thank you."
"I couldn't find you after my afternoon rounds. Where were you anyway?"
"Took a shower. I'm all squeaky clean now."
"I could tell. You smell like lilacs."
"Didn't have any shampoo in my locker so I borrowed yours." House turned back around to look at Cameron asleep. He had never really noticed her like this before. She lay there in his chair tossing and turning, and it looked as if she was trying to fight off nightmares that she could no longer contain. He was sure that some of those nightmares had to deal with the death of her husband while she was still in college and that others had to deal with the miles of geography that stand between her and her family, her true support system. He watched her and he knew that she, like him, only really had this job and the relationships with the people at this hospital. That was partly why he hired her.
"You seem distracted House; could it be the young doctor sleeping in your chair in your office?" House clearly heard a distinct emphasis on the word "your."
He had to think up a quick lie. He was indeed distracted and enjoying it, however, he was sure it was still the shock of the day wearing on him. He had never seen Cameron in the sense that she could have been worn-down and in severe pain. He wondered how she would handle it in the coming days; physical therapy alone was enough to change him in the days after the infarction, and now she would be facing it too.
"House, you didn't answer me."
"Let's go to your office." House responded, still staring at Cameron through the windows and partially drawn blinds.
"Good, I have something I need to show you."
House followed his friend into the office. He never realized how lucky Wilson was to have an office with normal, plastered walls. True, it was nice to people-watch through his walls, but he was never the people-watching type.
As he followed into Wilson's office, he noticed a small table set up in front of the couch with two cups of soup and other Chinese take-out. He was impressed; he could always look to Wilson to take care of him. He didn't know why, but in the days after Stacy had left him the first time Wilson would often bring over Chinese and check up on him. He assumed it was just because they were friends, but it was more as if Wilson had become like a brother looking after him. After awhile he learned that he enjoyed this sort of care and their friendship had never been stronger. He did not envy Wilson in those days though; he knew Stacy had torn him apart both physically and emotionally and he knew it was tough for his friend to see him like that.
He did enjoy those meetings with Wilson after Stacy left to some extent; he was always reassured that at least someone other than his overly-concerned mother was there to protect him. He was vulnerable during that time, and she had done that to him. He was weak, ill, in pain, and needed anyone to give any part of what they had for him. He knew he couldn't go it alone and he was forever grateful towards Wilson for recognizing that.
He sat down on the couch in Wilson's office, feeling the soft cushions envelop his body; they were warm so Wilson had been there a moment before. Wilson took one of the containers of soup while motioning for House to do the same. This gesture proved to House that neither man would be leaving the building tonight. It was rare for Wilson or House to order the take-out while in the hospital unless one or both were on difficult cases. Then, it was custom for the doctor leading the case to order the food while the other was available to bounce diagnostic hypothesis off of each other. Then, Cuddy gave him permission to hire three fellows: Chase, Cameron, and Foreman. The days of take-out had come to an end at that point.
House, taking the first sip of soup, finally realized how hungry he had become; the warm broth of the egg-drop slowly caressed his esophagus and then soothed his hunger-panged stomach. In the days after Stacy left him, egg-drop soup had become comfort food. He was unwilling to cook for himself, and Wilson was not always available to make sure that House would eat, so Wilson would often order the soup for House to be delivered to the home knowing that if the older of the pair was offered food he would accept it and eat it.
He found he was always able to define periods of his life by food. Growing up, he ate his mother's home cooking. She made casseroles and meat and potato meals. Then he went to college where it had become similar food but of a lesser quality. Med-school and residency was defined by hospital cafeterias and vending machines; his favorite becoming original flavored potato chips and a Coca Cola. Stacy had defined his diet by finding curry and other ethnic flavors for the pair to divulge in. The post-Stacy period to present time had become the era of Wilson's take-out: Chinese, pizza, and whoever else would deliver at the oddest times of the day.
Tonight though, dinner in his friend's office brought back memories for him and it comforted him. He needed that comfort. It wasn't until almost half of his soup was gone that he finally was satisfied enough to speak, "So, what was it that you needed to show me? The newest Playboy? Or is it Hot Doxs these days?"
"House!" Wilson shot him a glare. Yes, it was just like old-times.
He saw Wilson reach over onto the top of a pile on his desk and pull a patient chart from the top of it. He saw that the colored stickers on the file read "S" and "W," and it was not hard to imagine whose initials those were. "Stacy Warner's" chart was in Wilson's hands. House saw Wilson's face change when he realized that House knew what was coming next. Back to reality.
"House, Foreman and I have been trying for the last couple of hours to contact Mark but he's refusing to answer us. We haven't been able to get his consent to the procedures via his medical proxy. However, we were paging through Stacy's chart, and we found something."
House was intrigued. Mark, who had played the role of overprotective husband so well during his diagnosis and treatment, was now missing? What would Stacy make of this? She was there for Mark the entire diagnosis, treatment, and rehab; she even insisted that there was absolutely something wrong with him even when House at first didn't see it. He didn't think it would be like Mark to be absent from his wife's side at the time of her distress.
"House?" Wilson called the name to get his attention. House looked up at his friend and saw that there was a piece of paper in his hands, slightly yellowed by age. He thought he knew what it was but wasn't quite sure.
"Good news and bad news. Even though we can't find Mark to give consent, I have in my hands the name of another person who I know would be more than willing to do so. That's the good news. The bad news is though that Legal Affairs says that you should not treat her because of this document. Cuddy and I agree." Wilson handed the aged paper to House who took it after wiping his hands on the stack of paper napkins to his left. While he was not concerned about being a slob at his own home or in Wilson's office, he did not want to get soup all over a legal document.
He pulled the document closer to him and remembered signing a similar one shortly before his infarction. He looked at it closer:
The New Jersey Commission on Legal and Ethical Problems in the Delivery of Health Care
PROXY DIRECTIVE—(Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care)
Designation of Health Care Representative
I understand that as a competent adult, I have the right to make decisions about my health care. There may come a time when I am unable, due to physical or mental incapacity, to make my own health care decision. In these circumstances, those caring for me will need direction and they will turn to someone who knows my values and health care wishes.
House scoffed for a moment at the words "…knows my values and health care wishes." If that were really the case, his leg would still be whole.
By writing this durable power of attorney for health care I appoint a health care representative with the legal authority to make health care decisions on my behalf and to consult with my physician and others. I direct that this document become part of my permanent medical records.
"So, it's a power of attorney form. We've both seen these on a regular basis. Where's the DNR?" House scoffed at Wilson.
"Look closer House, I know you can."
House looked down at the document and continued to read.
A.) CHOOSING A HEALTH CARE REPRESENTATIVE
I, Stacy Warner , hereby designate Gregory House , of
221B Baker St. Princeton, New Jersey 08542; 609-555-3562 ,
(home address and telephone number of health care representative)
as my health care representative to make any and all health care decisions for me…
House didn't need to read further as all of the information that he really needed was in those two lines of text. She used her married name, which meant the form was recent, but he could tell by the age of the paper that it had to have been from before Mark fell ill. House read further down the form.
This durable power of attorney for health care shall take effect in the event I become unable to make my own health care decisions, as determined by the physician who has primary responsibility for my care, and any necessary confirming determinations.
"I assume that in this case, you are the physician responsible for Stacy, and I am the one who is assigned to make the choices?"
"Legal Affairs told me the exact same thing. She's been transferred to Oncology so that I can have better access to her and her records, and I've brought in your team as consulting physicians. House, she's given you the power."
House felt deeply touched. He looked at the date on the bottom of the form, it read over three years ago. She was already married, but knew she still trusted House in this case; to watch and direct the actions of the doctors treating her should something happen that she cannot control.
"Most interesting part is in section B House."
He looked down at the section labeled "Alternate Representatives." Wilson's name was listed as the first alternate in his place, and her husband's was her second. Why did Stacy not trust her husband to make the decision concerning her life and death?
He looked further down the sheet.
C) SPECIFIC DIRECTIONS: Please initial the directions below which best expresses your wishes.
SW My health care representative is authorized to direct that artificially provided fluids and nutrition, such as by feeding tube or intravenous infusion, be withheld or withdrawn.
She trusted him still to make the right decision. Her life was literally in his hands, both as a doctor and as her health care proxy. He looked down further in that same section. There were specific directions written by her hand that brought shock and fear back to his heart.
Should I, Stacy Warner, become dependant on life sustaining systems such as a respirator, external pacemaker, or other such device used to sustain my vital functions, I exclusively allow Gregory House, listed above as my health care proxy, to make decisions as to whether to continue the medical treatments. There are circumstances in which I would not want my life to be prolonged by further medical treatment. In these circumstances, life-sustaining measures should not be initiated and if they have been, they should be discontinued. I recognize that this is likely to hasten my death. In the following, I specify the circumstances in which I would choose to forego life-sustaining measures.
Written just like the constitutional lawyer she is. House looked at the next couple of pages and saw the Instruction Directive attached behind it with a paper clip, again naming him as her proxy. What had she done? Did she realize that after the infarction, he couldn't, shouldn't be trusted in a situation like this? Apparently she didn't realize any of that as she listed him and Wilson above the status of her husband on the form.
House finally looked up at Wilson from the form, the blood draining from his face and his appetite leaving him as the information he had just read sunk in: he was solely responsible for Stacy Warner's fate.