Fix the joint

Ch. 7

"It doesn't even hurt." House remarked as Wilson got out of the car and used his crutches to make it to the door. He just looked at House and retorted back, "You ever tried to walk on something you couldn't feel?"

"You can't feel it?"

"Lidocaine is a wonderful thing."

The two managed to limp up the stairs and settle into the apartment. Wilson parked on the couch and propped his foot on the coffee table complete with a pillow. House returned to the apartment a time later, he had to unload the car of his bag and Wilson's convenient cooler.

House followed suit and made himself comfortable as well. The television was on and they were half watching. Wilson looked at House, who was zoned out.

"Let's order pizza while I'm pain free and conscious."

House turned his head and looked at him. He gave him a look as he pondered the thought.

"Its 12:30…yeah let's order pizza. It is lunch time after all."

Things went abnormally smooth from the time Wilson came home to the time he had his follow up appointment three days later. House got used to adjusting his morning routine to accompany Wilson's needs as well as his own.

He would wake up, pop two Vicodin then visit the bathroom. From there Wilson would make the same visit and then return to the couch. While Wilson was busy House would refill the cooler and then get ready for work.

The only difference in Wilson's new life now that he had reached day three was that he had to limit himself from using the cooler. Since the foot being numb from surgery and then staying numb from the cooler he really hadn't been in pain. So, on day three he started the de-frosting part of the experience. This is the time when Wilson's foot gains feeling again. It was both uncomfortable and ended painfully.

On the morning of the third day it was as usual except Wilson had to get ready to leave with House. Wilson heard the alarm go off and House stumble to the bathroom. Minutes later he arrived behind the couch, waiting for Wilson to unhook himself from the cooler. House went to go re-fill it when Wilson talked over his shoulder, "Don't fill it yet. Appointment today remember?"

"Oh right. Am I takin' you home after?"

"I think so. Don't think I can make it a whole day yet."

Wilson hobbled down the hall, still trying to get used to the new shoe he had. The shoe made it so he didn't flex his foot so he could walk without messing up the surgery. It was still difficult to walk with a numb foot.

Wilson didn't realize how slow he really was at this new walking until he had to tell House to slow down.

"I should call you gimp." House remarked as he waited for Wilson to catch up.

"Shut up."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not yet."

They parted at the clinic. Dr. Braud had his own office, but offered to see Wilson in the clinic to save a trip. The visit was short. There was a dressing change and some x-rays but everything looked good. It was a weird sight for Wilson, seeing a swollen foot despite the ice therapy. His ankle wasn't visible, but it would be eventually. His next appointment was in a week. He was given some wrapping so he could change the dressing, but he still wasn't allowed to get the dressing wet. He could leave the surgical site open to the air, it was steri- stripped so it would be fine, but water would mess it up. Wilson knew all that but he didn't mind hearing it again.

By the time he was back into his office and comfortable on the couch; his foot had all its feeling back and was starting to protest the lack of ice it had been deprived of all morning. He put a pillow under it and removed his shoe. It helped a little but not much. He checked his pockets in hope to find something that would help him. The only thing he found was the reminder of his next appointment.

He craned his neck so he could see into House's balcony. No one. As he gathered courage to make it into House's office, he hoped that someone was there that could help him. He put his shoe back on and slowly got up. Gathering his balance he slowly limped his way to the door. From there he used the wall for support to make the short distance to the conference room.

Luckily Cameron heard him coming from his office to the conference room and met him in the hall.

"Dr. Wilson, are you okay?"

"Not really."

She saw that he needed help and assisted him into House's office. He sat in the chair House frequently lounged in and set his foot up on the foot rest.

"Anything I can get you? How much pain are you in?" Cameron asked with caring eyes.

"Some ice, a Vicodin and House. It's about a 5 but it's increasing. Hence the need for Vicodin." He was little short of breath from his journey and the pain.

"Right. I'll be back shortly."

By the time House arrived back in his office he found Wilson, asleep with ice. Part of him didn't want to know what happened to his friend, he looked too peaceful sleeping. But he had to know. No puzzle was left solved in House's book.

Cameron was next door, so it was time to bombard her with questions until he was satisfied. She was on the computer so he stood in front of the desk.

"What did you give him?"

"Just a Vicodin."

"Just a Vicodin? What happened?"

"He was in pain. He practically limped his way over here and was in obvious distress. I gave him what he wanted."

"He wanted a Vicodin?"

"He wanted ice, Vicodin and you. I gave him what I could find."

House sat down at the desk and knew why Wilson was in pain. He was supposed to take him home after the appointment and he got sidetracked. Wilson was in pain because of him, or at least that's how it felt.

"Page me when he wakes up." House told Cameron. He didn't even wait to see if she would agree. He just left.