Chapter 24
Cameron chased after Foreman, who was proceeding down the hall to Courtney's room.
"Foreman, wait." Cameron said, finally catching up and laying a hand on his arm. "House is wrong. I know he is. If we start that treatment, we're going to permanently paralyze that little girl. I can't do it."
"You're not, I am. Look, Cameron, House may be wrong about the diagnosis, but he's right about the treatment. Personally, I think it's far more likely that she contracted West Nile from a mosquito than Guillan-Barre. We have to treat her, we can't just wait around until the paralysis reaches her lungs or heart." Foreman really thought Cameron was going a little overboard today.
Cameron sighed. She knew in her head that Foreman was right, but her gut told her there was something else.
"Look, Foreman, House will be in therapy for an hour. I know the father is hiding something from me. Give me 45 minutes. If I can't get anything out of him by then, no new leads or information, start the treatment. Okay?" Cameron pleaded.
"I'll give you half an hour, that's it," Foreman replied. "And if House finds out, I won't lie for you."
Cameron nodded her thanks before walking the rest of the way down the hall. Foreman just shook his head. With the mood House was in today, Cameron was just setting herself up for a bad time.
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As Cameron walked down the hall, she saw Mr. Russell standing outside Courtney's room looking in. Mrs. Pevensee was inside with Courtney, and the two obviously were too strained to spend any time together. As Cameron approached Mr. Russell, her pace slowed. Something was nagging at her, something she'd seen recently. She paused, and closed her eyes. She'd come in early this morning, and sorted through House's mail. She'd discarded just about everything that came in, except a new book of Sudoku puzzles he'd ordered and his National Geographic. Then she'd gone to make coffee, and …the National Geographic! There was a photo on the front page of a village in Africa somewhere, Nigeria maybe, where a local woman was making jewelry out of stones and animal teeth. The byline for the article was by Christopher Russell.
Cameron joined Mr. Russell at the window. She stood silently for a moment, letting her mind work. An awful suspicion came to her.
"That's a beautiful necklace you gave Courtney," Cameron said. "My mother really loves African art and jewelry, where did you get?"
"Oh, we had a local woman make it for us," Mr. Russell replied. "Courtney picked out most of the pieces herself. She has a great eye for colors."
"A local artist? Really, I'd love to get her name," Cameron continued, quietly.
"Not exactly local," Mr. Russell said. He spoke quietly also, almost as though he wasn't really aware he was speaking. "Not unless you consider Nigeria local."
"So, when did the two of you get back?" Cameron asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.
"Oh, just a few days before she was supposed to go back to her mother." Mr. Russell replied. "I had to rush my story a bit, but I couldn't get her back late …" Mr. Russell trailed off as a look of panic rushed into his face. "Oh my god, don't tell her mother I took her to Nigeria with me. She'd never let me see her again. I didn't tell her mother we were going, I knew she'd never approve. You don't have to tell her do you?"
But Cameron was already running down the hall. She burst into the lab, and startled Chase.
"Where's the latest round of blood samples for Courtney?" She demanded.
"Right here," Chase replied, confused. "I was just about to use this last one to test for Guillan-Barre again, hey!" Chase shouted as Cameron grabbed the sample from him. "What are you doing?"
Cameron didn't reply, but immediately began working on the sample. Chase came and looked over her shoulder at the test she was starting.
"Are you serious?" Chase asked.
"The father took her to Nigeria without telling her mother, and then made Courtney swear not to tell anyone," Cameron answered.
"Oh my god," Chase replied.
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On another floor of the hospital, House and Dr. Quigley were talking about golf. House had played before his infarction, and Dr. Quigley had played as an amateur golfer when he was a young man. It seemed video games weren't the only thing they had in common.
"How often to you play now?" House asked.
"Oh, just once or twice a week," Dr. Quigley replied. "I'm not as young as I used to be, and I'm not sure my wife would put it up with more often than that." Dr. Quigley paused. "Have you thought about taking it up again?"
"Taking what up?" House asked, confused.
"Golf." Dr. Quigley replied.
"I can't play golf, Quig, I'm crippled," House snarked back without thinking.
"No, not anymore you're not. I know you still have a limp, but now that the pain is gone, you could probably stand long enough to play, if you used a cart instead of walking the course. You've never considered it?" Dr. Quigley pressed.
"I, …uh,…"House gave up and just shook his head.
"You know, House, just because you're still trying to get over your addiction, doesn't mean you shouldn't start trying to get back to your normal life. In fact, in my humble opinion, well maybe not so much humble as highly educated opinion, getting back to some of the things you enjoyed before the infarction might be helpful in that respect." Dr. Quigley suggested.
"Right, if I could just get back my golf game, my life would be all moonbeams and bunnies again," House snarked.
"Somehow I doubt that your life was ever moonbeams and bunnies," Dr. Quigley replied dryly. "Maybe pizza and beer?"
House rolled his eyes at Dr. Quigley.
"Wouldn't that beat the pills and booze?" Dr. Quigley continued.
"Hey, how about we give this a break for today," House said. He didn't really want to talk about this.
"Ask and you shall receive. Two sessions off from moonbeams and bunnies," Dr. Quigley joked.
Just then Dr. Quigley's pager began beeping. He frowned; he was never paged during a session with a patient unless it was an absolute emergency. He picked up his phone and dialed. After listening for a moment, he hung up the phone and turned to House.
"Well, looks like you're off the hook for today. Apparently several of our psych patients have decided that a picnic on the roof would be a lovely idea, and are refusing to come off the ledge. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," Dr. Quigley said, opening the door.
"I knew I liked those psych patients for a reason," House quipped.
"Monday," Dr. Quigley shouted back at House as he hurried down the hall.
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House went back to his office to check on the patient's progress. It had barely been a half an hour, but if the West Nile treatment was wrong, they'd know it very soon. His office and the conference room were empty. House sat in his office and grabbed his National Geographic. He'd just finished scanning the table of contents, looking for an interesting article, when he realized he was still alone. Where were all the ducklings? With an annoyed grumble, he tossed the magazine on the floor and went to check on the patient himself.
Arriving at Courtney's room, he saw that none of the ducklings were with her. He entered and picked up her chart. Seeing that the West Nile treatment had not yet been started, he shouted to a nurse passing in the hall. The nurse jumped, clearly frightened of House. House ordered the medications he wanted, and waited for her to return.
Foreman came around the corner of the hall and saw House in Courtney's room. He should have been in therapy at least another half hour. Foreman shook his head, trying to decide if he should try to cover for Cameron or not. He decided it was worth a try. She would certainly stick up for him if he tried something like this. He stepped into the room, but before he could even open his mouth to say anything, House pounced. He grabbed Foreman by the arm and forced him back into the hall.
"Foreman, what the hell have you been doing for the last half hour? I told you to start her on the treatment for West Nile, only to come in here to find she hasn't even been checked on in the last half hour!" House was shouting. He could feel himself beginning to shake, and reached in his pocket for his Vicodin. He swallowed one, and then began shouting at Foreman again.
"As long as I pay your salary, you'll do as I tell you. Don't forget who the real doctor is here!" House was screaming, but he barely noticed.
"Cameron asked me to give her half an hour while she ran down another lead. I didn't want to disturb you at your session, and half an hour wasn't going to make a difference while she's progressing so slowly. Time's about up anyway, I was just coming in to start the treatment you ordered." Foreman didn't feel the least bit guilty about throwing Cameron under the bus. He'd tried to warn her, but she didn't want his advice.
"Cameron asked you? And since when are you and Cameron such great friends that you care what she thinks? Or is she screwing you now too, and you figure you'd better make nice or she'll cut you off?" House knew it was ridiculous, even for him. He could feel people looking at him, but he couldn't seem to get hold of himself.
At that unfortunate moment, Cameron and Chase had rounded the corner holding the new test results. She'd heard House's comment about sleeping with Foreman too, and anger welled up in her chest. How long was he going to keep throwing that in her face?
House saw Cameron and Chase advancing on him, and knew he needed a minute to compose himself before speaking to her, or he'd end up saying something even worse. The nurse he'd barked at earlier came into view holding a fresh IV bag and syringe; it was the medication House had ordered to begin treating Courtney for West Nile. House seized the IV and syringe from her roughly, and crashed into Courtney's room, waking her.
House hung the bag on the IV stand, and began changing the connection so he could begin her treatment. His hands were shaking so badly, he could barely manage it. He'd just closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, when the door opened behind him.
"House, don't give her the treatment, you need to see these results," Cameron began, calmly enough. She thought she recognized a slight tremble in his hands, and knew he must be going through a tough time with his withdrawal right now. Giving in and fighting with him would only make it worse, and she needed him to hear her.
"Dr. Cameron," House replied, his voice oozing disdain, "when I'm looking for a sound medical opinion about this patient, I will ask the pigeons on my balcony. Right now, I have more respect for their judgment than I do yours. At least the pigeons listen." Snarking at Cameron seemed to make him feel a touch better, and he finally managed to connect the new IV bag.
House next took the syringe and prepared to administer the West Nile medication, when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away. It was Cameron. She opened her mouth to speak to him again, but House had already started moving. It was a reaction, mostly fueled by his horrible, shaking withdrawal. Everything was suddenly in slow motion as he watched his arm swing around and strike Cameron's face. She stumbled slightly, and looked him with something like pity, disgust, shock, horror and familiarity in her face. The look almost shattered him.
"She has polio, you bastard," Cameron said, softly, dropping the test results onto Courtney's bed and running out of the room.
