Chapter 16

Heartburn

In my mind, I was out of here as soon as my contract was up. I was not only lonely, but seeing Susan and Greg together had begun to wear me down. It was like a repeat of what I had left in Los Angeles, seeing someone I cared about with someone else…in this case it was worse because I felt guilty for my infatuation with Greg House. There was no logic behind it. He was rude, vulgar and mean, yet here I was, wishing he'd kiss me again.

Susan came down to borrow some coffee the next morning. She looked cute in her moose pajamas and her hair sticking up. I handed her the coffee and asked, "So what are you guys up to this week?"

"Not much, Greg hasn't been feeling well."

"Virus?"

"Heartburn."

A chill ran down my back. "Susan, are you sure it's heartburn?"

"He's the diagnostician, that's what he says. Plus it started after we had a huge Indian meal."

"How long?"

"Night before last."

"Is he sure it's heartburn?"

Susan rolled her eyes, but when she looked at how serious I was, she dropped her grin. "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, nothing. You know me…someone has a hangnail and I think it's related to a cardiovascular problem."

Susan chuckled. "Greg doesn't really exercise that much, but he's active. We have sex a lot--"

"Whoa, too much information."

"And he's thin…doesn't really smoke except the occasional cigar. I don't think you have to worry."

"You're probably right." I patted her on the back, but as soon as she left I called James Wilson.

Jim had been dating a very nice judge who had just been appointed to the bench the year before. He seemed very happy, even putting on a little weight from spending so much time at her house and cooking together. I envied them just like I envied all the people in relationships around me.

"Hi, James, it's Finley."

"Finley, what's up?"

"I need information about House."

"Uh-oh. What did he do?"

I had to laugh; it seemed to be the universal reaction to anything to do with Greg. "Nothing. I just need to ask. What caused the infarction in his leg?"

"They aren't quite sure because by the time they diagnosed it, the original cause was gone, but it was either a clot or blockage."

"Did they mention PAD?"

"It was a possibility, but he was young and there was no history in his fam…" His voice faded away.

"James?"

"I just thought of something but I don't know if I can talk about it."

"About what?"

"Well, they checked his family history when it happened, but his father, the one they checked, wasn't his biological father."

"Really? Who is?"

There was a deep silence.

"James? Who is?"

"A Unitarian Minister. Finley, what's going on?"

I sighed and wondered if he'd think I was making a mountain out of a molehill. "Greg has heartburn."

"And?"

"He's had it for a few days."

"I'm not getting it."

"He had an infarction in his leg and now he has heartburn."

"You think he might have had peripheral arterial disease and now it's in his heart?"

"Yes, but before I incur the wrath of House, I'd like to have more ammunition when I confront him. He is young, but not too young. I'd like to talk to his father and get a history from him."

"House and his father haven't connected. His biological father doesn't know that House knows that he's his father. Heck, we don't know if his father knows that House is his son."

"I want his name and phone number. I'll call as if I'm conducting a medical survey, something like that."

I could hear breathing, but no response.

"You know he'll just dismiss me if I don't have more than heartburn to go off of when I confront him." I offered.

"Fine."

After receiving the information from James, I Googled the name I was given, found a phone number and had a fifteen minute conversation with Greg's real father. Nice and cooperative doesn't even begin to describe the man. He had a great sense of humor and from the way he responded to my questions, I could tell that he was intelligent and gregarious. His son, although intelligent, appeared to have very little in common with his Dad.

I called James and asked for backup. We went upstairs, me with my physician's bag, to see Greg and Susan. I knocked on the door and looked over at James. He was sedate, contemplative. He did not want to be here.

Susan opened the door and took one look at the bag and rolled her eyes. "It's just indigestion. In fact, he doesn't even have it now."

"Susan, just let me check him over." I said solemnly, pushing past her into the hall and then living room.

Greg was on the couch eating pizza and drinking a beer. On the television was some strange mixture of large trucks and people wrestling. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me sideways.

"What's with the bag?"

"I want to give you an examination. I think you're having unstable angina and I need to examine you."

He gave me a look of amusement as he sat back in the sofa, his arm draped down the arm of it. He looked like Caesar waiting for the jugglers to begin. "What makes you think I have angina?"

"Your leg infarction, your heartburn and your family history."

Wilson winced and Greg took note of it. "Family History? What family history?"

"Your father's history of hypercholesterolemia."

"That's genetic. My father died of colon cancer."

Wilson grimaced. "House, we're talking about your biological father."

House shook his head and grilled James, "You talked to my biological father?"

I jumped between them. "I did. I didn't mention you at all. I introduced myself and told him that I was conducting research and surveying men across the United States. His father died at fifty-two of heart disease. Your father has high cholesterol. He's was diagnosed in 1980 when he had an acute myocardical infarction at the age forty-seven. Your leg infarction was most likely the result of atherosclerosis as a result of hypercholesterolemia. When was the last time you had your cholesterol checked?"

"When I entered Mayfield."

"And?"

"It was high, but they put me on Zocor. The counts came down."

"I'm going to listen to your heart and draw blood."

"And who said you could? Do you think I don't know the symptoms of angina?"

"Fine, prove me wrong. Let me take your blood test and listen to your heart."

He gave Susan a look of annoyance.

"Greg, do it for me. Okay?" Susan begged, her voice full of worry.

He rolled his eyes and looked extremely annoyed, but sat up forward for me to examine him. I pushed the pizza and beer to the side and sat on the coffee table in front of him, pulled out my stethoscope and waited as he pulled up his t-shirt revealing his chest covered with curly gray and white hair. I tried to warm the metal of the stethoscope, but he still flinched from the cold when I placed it on his chest. I couldn't look in his blue eyes and listen at the same time so I looked directly at his left nipple. I had him cough, I listened, I had him breath in and out rapidly and listened. I made him turn around and put the stethoscope on his back and listened.

"You can put your shirt down now." I said as I removed the stethoscope from my ears.

"Now are you happy? I'm fine." He said.

I turned to Susan. "Susan, do you have an aspirin?"

It was as if I had just farted in the middle of room. Everyone gave me a look. They were doctors, they knew what I was suggesting. When Susan didn't move, I barked. "Susan! An aspirin!"

She jumped and ran to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. "I only have Tylenol." She yelled.

James jumped up. "I have some. I'll be back." He took off faster than the Road Runner.

"Give me that." Greg grabbed the stethoscope out of my hand and started to listen to his heart. His face grew darker. He looked around and then snorted. "Okay."

We stood up and he grabbed his jacket and a cap, putting them on as I packed up.

"I'll grab my jackets and drive you." I said quietly.

Susan grabbed onto Greg's arm, crying. "What is it?"

House patted her hand. "A blockage. I've been having stable angina. I just need to get it checked out. You can stay here."

"Like hell!" Susan said, running to the closet to get her jacket.

"Greg, once James gives you the aspirin, meet me in the garage and I'll drive everyone." I said.

"Wilson can drive us. You take your own car so that we have options on coming home."

I nodded, understanding that not all of us might come home at the same time.

We all managed to make it to the hospital and I immediately arranged for Greg to have an MRI. I went in with him, sitting in the booth as the MRI tech prepped the machine.

"It's a good thing we didn't bet." His voice came over the mike, his face smiling in the screen.

"Are you okay? Any tightness?"

"Not tonight. I had some last night and the night before. Did you really talk to my Dad?"

I hit the mike, "Yeah, he sounded very nice, Greg. Threw me off a little. I expected him to tell me to fuck off."

Greg laughed. "I would have."

"I know. But, you must have known something was wrong because you gave in and let me examine you without too much fuss."

"You made a compelling argument. I'm not an idiot."

"No comment."

"Ouch."

The MRI started up and the banging of the magnets made it impossible to talk. A few minutes later he was out of the machine and I was standing at the end of it waiting for him. He was dressed in a blue and white hospital gown, his hairy legs sticking out and looking rather shapely for a guy who didn't exercise much.

"Nice legs." I said, smiling.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"No, I know how hard Susan can hit. Do you want me to wheel you down to my office or walk?"

"I'll walk."

I handed him his cane and we started down the hall. "Well?"

I swallowed hard and told him calmly, "You have an 80 percent occlusion in the right coronary artery. I think angioplasty will work. I'm going to give you a new diet and we're going to figure out an exercise plan. You can't sit around on your ass anymore."

"I hope sex is part of your exercise plan."

"Of course you and Susan can have sex, but first let's do the angioplasty and then you'll need to wait about ten days. I'll probably put in a stent to keep the artery open. " We turned into the hall outside my office where Susan and Wilson were talking to Cuddy. After getting Greg's permission to discuss his condition in front of everyone, we all went into my office. I brought up the MRI on the monitor and turned it for everyone to see.

"There's one, possibly two blockages. I'm recommending angioplasty with a drug-eluted stent to keep it open. I am concerned about pain relief after the angioplasty. The best I can give you in light of your past addiction is Tylenol with Codeine. I'm going to leave the inducer in just in case there are complications in the first week or further blockages. You're going to be put on blood thinners. I'm going to add Mipomersen to your statins. I'll know more when I'm in there. Are you allergic to any dyes?"

He shook his head.

"Fine, then I'll schedule you for tomorrow afternoon. No food from here on out. They're going to admit you once we're done here." I stopped in my tracks. "Greg? I guess I should have asked, do you want me as your surgeon?"

He rolled his eyes again. "I'm not going to go surgeon shopping…you caught it, you fix it."

"Wow, what a wonderful vote of confidence."

He gave me that smile of his that let me know he approved of my humor, if not my surgical talents.

Susan burst out with, "Of course we want you…you're the best."

"Thanks Suz." I said. "Well, any questions?"

"Are you going through my arm or my groin?"

"Groin. It's a direct path to the blockage."

"Well, let's get this over with." House said.

Cuddy, looking far too worried, spoke up, "House, don't worry, I'll talk to your team and—"

"Frankly, I could give a damn about my patients and team. Right now I'm just trying to avoid dying before I win the lottery."

He was admitted and after an hour, he convinced Susan and Wilson to go home. I had a patient that needed some assistance, but I came back and discovered that he was finally alone watching television.

"You better go home and get some sleep. I want you fresh for the procedure." He said.

"I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

"Yeah. I'm comfortable."

"Fine, well, good night. Call if you need anything. " I started out of the room.

"Finley?"

I turned and smiled as I do for all my patients, to reassure them. "What, Greg?"

"I guess I should say thanks." He barely made eye contact and then turned to watch television again.

I laughed. "You're welcomed."

I went home, had a little snack and fell asleep on the couch. Around midnight I dragged my butt back to the bed and slept until three a.m. I got up to pee and when I came back to bed, I couldn't sleep. Around 3:30 am I turned on the television to see if it would put me to sleep, but it didn't.

At 3:45 am my phone rang.

"Anything."

I smiled at the sound of his voice. "Anything? What?"

"You said if I needed anything to call you."

"What's wrong, Greg?"

"I couldn't sleep. And obviously, neither could you."

"You know this because…"

"The T.V. in the back ground and your voice is too wide-awake."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Oh, that begs for a wisecrack."

I chuckled, "Perhaps. Greg, you need to sleep."

"I will, tomorrow on the operating table. You need sleep more than me."

"I was asleep until a few minutes ago."

"What are you wearing?"

I started laughing. "You should call Susan."

"I know what she's wearing. Nothing. She doesn't typically wear anything to bed. But, I bet you do. Probably an old t-shirt and granny panties."

Besides the fact that I was wearing plain cotton bikinis, he was right. "You're wrong. I'm wearing a shorty night gown with black lace."

"You're lying, but I like where you're going with this. Is it satin?"

"No, it's blue silk—" I shook my head. "Okay, that's enough. Give Susan a call. Goodnight, Greg." I started to hang up.

"Hey, Finley!"

"What, Greg?"

"I bet you look good in your t-shirt and granny panties."

There was a click. I lay in bed grinning, wishing he wasn't my best friend's boyfriend.