A/N: sorry for the gap; I was busy! Thanks to all who have liked and reviewed and I really hope you enjoy this chapter!
Carefully, he lined up the supplies: scalpel, retractors, sutures, surgical glue, anesthesia, liquor, betadine, a tourniquet, and a bottle of Vicodin. The Vicodin he'd taken three of an hour ago and washed down with a swig of liquor. He took four more now and did the same.
He lifted himself into the bath, wearing old clothes he wouldn't mind getting bloody. He pulled off his pants and carefully tied the tourniquet around his hip. The damaged muscles bulged under the pressure, which was what he wanted because that would mean the tumors would also bulge. Also, he didn't want to lose too much blood. That was another thing he had gotten from the hospital: blood. It was just in case; the tumors were close to the surface. He was expecting to be in and out in less than a half an hour.
The films hung by a hook on the shower wall so he could see the placement of the tumors. He took a deep breath and squirted the betadine over his leg, making sure to get the whole thigh. He injected the anesthesia into the muscles and started to cut.
The first cut send a bloom of blood running down his leg and onto the cool porcelain of the bathtub floor. He cut through the skin carefully, biting into a surgical rag to muffle the sounds he was making. It wasn't horrible at first; the liquor and Vicodin masked the worst of the pain. Once he got to the fascia, though, his leg started to ache sharply. He moaned in pain, pushing his head against the wall. He made himself continue, though.
The blood was running freely now, pooling in the wound. He grabbed the suction from the TV tray and turned it on. He screamed. It felt like his skin was being pulled off. That's why no one does this awake, he thought bitterly.
He took a deep breath and suctioned the rest of the blood out. He was almost to the tumors now. They were deeper than he had initially thought. He was at the muscle and he still couldn't see them. Shit.
He could feel sweat pouring down his face and dripping into the wound. He wiped it with a cloth and injected more lidocaine. He kept cutting. He could see the first tumor now. It was the one on the right side, clinging to the side of the resected muscle. He pulled it out and howled in agony. He leaned back and caught his breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the world blurred before him like he was in a submarine. Time for the blood.
With shaky hands, House slid the needle into his arm. He thought he'd hit the mark but wasn't 100% sure. It would have to do. He hung the bag on the toilet paper holder and continued. The pain was getting worse, taking over the muscles in his body and making them shake. He could no longer cut in a straight line, and his hand was infirm. Barbs shot into his leg, and he screamed, muffled by the cloth. He screamed for what seemed like forever.
When he finally stopped, he knew what he had to do. He grappled for his cell phone, shaking, bloody, gloved hands reaching down to the floor to retrieve it. He pressed one. Wilson.
House listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times...voicemail. He tried again, pressing one. One...two...three...damnit, Wilson, pick up. Wilson was always there when he needed him, always picked up. Where was he?
He pressed two. His woozy brain couldn't remember who was on number two. The phone rang once...twice…
"Hello?" a tired voice greeted him. He would recognize it anywhere. Cuddy. Goddamnit; she was the last person he wanted to talk to. She'd broken his heart, and he hadn't spoken to her about anything but business in two months. He needed her, though.
"Need...help…" he rasped. His head lolled to the side. Cuddy must have heard the urgency in his voice, because when she answered next, she was fully awake.
"House? What happened? Did you overdose?"
"No...tumors...surgery…" He tried to make her understand, but he wasn't sure he understood anymore. The world was a blurry mess, and his head felt light. His neck was rubber, and when he looked down at his leg, he could see blood gushing from it.
"Just...come…" he slurred, then let the darkness carry him away.