"I told you, time at home was all he needed," Wilson told her.
"Walker's happy with this MRI. He was muttering something about operating next Tuesday, after another few doses of chemo," Cuddy said, ignoring Wilson's answer.
Wilson grabbed the MRI off the light box and slipped it back into the cardboard folder. "I'll start today's dose once he's more settled."
"Whatever you did, he's better for it," Cuddy told him, as Wilson headed back to House's room. He stopped by the nurses' station and ordered that day's dose of chemo, drawing up the next dose of pain killers for House.
"MRI's clear. Walker wants to operate next week," he said as he entered House's room.
"I've been thinking," House started as Wilson started to inject the drugs.
"Bet that was painful. There you go, chemo should be here soon," Wilson replied, injecting the drugs and dumping the empty syringes in the sharps box.
"Are you listening to me?" House asked as Wilson made himself comfortable on the chair while he waited for the chemo to arrive.
"Of course. You were thinking, it was painful."
"Shut up, I'm serious," House snapped. He'd be pissed off but he was in a place where it didn't hurt and he couldn't manage to be totally pissed off.
"Sorry, you were saying?"
"I've been thinking, what if I didn't have the surgery?" House asked, looking at his hands.
"You'd die, Greg," Wilson said, his face serious.
"I just...last time I had surgery I came out with half a leg, I don't want to go in and come out with half a brain or something worse happen," House started.
"No, don't be so stupid, you have to have this surgery. The tumour isn't going to disappear on its own and there's no way that chemo would just kill it off, I'm not having this discussion with you," Wilson said, standing up and giving House a stern look. He couldn't be serious, he needed this surgery and there was no way that Wilson was going to let him piss around with his health.
"It was only a thought," House said, pouting slightly.
"Yeah and if you went through with it, I'd have you sectioned," Wilson told him, seriously. Before House could reply, a nurse appeared carrying his dose of chemo. He groaned inwardly. It wasn't that he wanted to die, he'd just prefer that he got to go home, get well and forget all about having his brain on the operating table.
"Come on, a few more doses of chemo, some surgery and then you can go home and be miserable for the rest of your life," Wilson told him as he connected the IV bag to House's central line.
House switched the TV on and started flipping through the channels as the chemo started to enter his veins. "You know what? I feel pretty sick, I think I'm just gonna sleep."
"Okay," Wilson said.
"You mind leaving me alone?" House asked, refusing to look at Wilson. He didn't want to see the look he knew he'd be wearing. It was similar to the one someone would wear if House had say, just kicked a puppy or something.
"Sure, get them to page me if you need anything," Wilson said, quietly, gathering his stuff and heading to the door.
"Sure thing," House said, laying back on his pillows and staring out the window. He had no intention of sleeping, he just couldn't cope with Wilson watching him throw up for the next few hours as the chemo posioned him. He had no intention of refusing the surgery, he just needed time to think.