Just a warning. There may be severely incorrect medical information in this series.
I tried my best, but I'm not a doctor. Somethings are for added dramatic effect, and others are because I'm plain stupid.
--
The door to my room opened, and I glanced away from my book. I smiled as I saw a doctor walk in, and I pushed my book to the side. He was young with blonde hair, I didn't recognise him. He walked over to my bed, sitting down and taking out a syringe.
"I'm Dr. Chase." He started; I let out a sigh.
"Blood tests?" I asked. He nodded and I stretched out my arm, offering it to him. He smiled and took hold of my wrist so that my arm was straight.
"Scared of needles?" He asked as he picked up the syringe. He had an Australian accent. I laughed quietly.
"No. Not really." I told him. He glanced at my arm, trying to spot a usable vein, before slapping the underside of it lightly.
"It helps raise the veins." He told me. I nodded like I had never heard it or seen it done before. He pressed the needle of the syringe against my skin, "Means I'm less likely to miss. You're going to feel a pinch."
I felt the needle pierce my skin and slide easily into my arm, stinging slightly, causing me to wince. I watched as the blood was drawn up into the vial, the red liquid staining the glass.
"What are you looking for?" I asked, curious.
"Bronchitis." He muttered, filling up the vial completely, "We need to take a chest X-ray as well."
"It's a waste of time." I said with a sigh as he quickly replaced the vial, drawing even more blood up out of my arm. "I don't have it."
"What makes you so sure?" He asked with a smile, meeting my eyes for a second before allowing them to dart back to the needle in my arm.
"I've been tested for it before." I told him in a matter of fact tone, I cocked my head to one side, "It's not pneumonia either. Or tuberculosis. Mind you the X-ray will tell you that anyway." He filled yet another vial, and replaced it quickly.
"Well, we still have to test you for it, to see for ourselves." He said. I nodded, feeling slightly frustrated that no one was paying attention to what I had to say, although I knew he was just doing his job. He must have noticed my change in mood, because he glanced back up at my face and smiled softly, "Don't worry; we're going to figure out what's wrong with you."
--
House stood outside the room, staring in through the gaps in the blinds. Watching as Chase sat down next to the young girl, and as she obediently stretched out her arm, like she had done it a million times before, like she was a pro.
"What are you doing?" Came the familiar voice of Cuddy. He turned round to see her standing in the corridor, her arms folded across her chest, and a suspicious look on her face.
"I'm just... checking up on a patient." He told her. She frowned and walked over to him.
"You don't check on patients." She said, cynicism laced through every word, "You harass them." House dramatically hit himself on his forehead with his hand.
"Oh yeah, I forgot!" He cried, "I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing!" And with that he limped over to the door, banged on it loudly with his cane before opening it and striding in. He had forgotten that Chase had been drawing blood, and in that instance had a large needle stuck in his patients arm, however, he quickly remembered when he entered the room.
Chase was on his feet, blood on his fingertips. The large bang from House's cane had made him jump, which had pushed the needle further into the patients arm. He'd pulled it out and at that moment was attempting to stop the flow of blood which was streaming down her arm onto the bed.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He cried as he picked up some gauze, applying pressure to the wound. The girls face was distorted slightly in pain, but she bit down on her lower lip and kept quiet.
"Please excuse him." House sighed, walking slowly over to the end of her bed, "He's an idiot." The girl's eyes tore away from her bleeding arm and glanced up at House. A bright smile spread across her face for a second before Chase pressed down too hard on her arm.
"Ow!" She cried. He groaned, allowing her to press down on the gauze herself.
"Sorry!" He repeated. He sighed and looked up at House, "What is it?" He asked dejectedly.
"You have lung cancer!" House cried triumphantly, causing the girl's head to snap up again, her eyes wide, Shocked and slightly confused, but not frightened.
"Seriously?" She asked, a suspicious, but oddly hopeful tone to her voice, "But you haven't done any tests yet."
"I'm psychic." House told her. He glanced again over at Chase again, who was glaring up at him, "Oh come on, don't pout!"
"I'm not." He growled. He wiped his hands on some sheets next to the girl's bed. He gathered up the vials and stood up, glancing up at House, "I'll bring these to the lab then."
"You do that." House said as Chase pushed by him and out the door, a scowl plastered on his face. House slowly turned round to face the patient, "Hello there."
"Hello." She said with a slight smile, flexing her arm and pulling it up so that it was bent against her chest. House was slightly surprised at her reaction; usually the first thing a person would ask was 'Who are you?' or 'what are you doing in my room?'
"Where are your parents?" He asked, looking round the room, as if expecting them to jump out at him. The girl shrugged.
"I think my moms on her way." She muttered, "She shouldn't be here for a while." House nodded and walked over to her bedside, taking the seat that Chase had been sitting in.
"Good. That will make this significantly less awkward." He sighed, he glanced over at her, "So, firstly, the million dollar question, do you smoke?" The girl slowly shook her head.
"Nope, never have." She told him. He laughed slightly.
"But it's what the cool people do!" He cried. A smile split across the girls face, "Come on, you can be honest with me. I won't go crying to mommy!" The girl shook her head again.
"Sorry. I don't." She repeated. He frowned.
"Does your mommy smoke?" He asked. She shook her head again, "You'll know we'll find out anyway, we've got your blood."
"I swear. I've never touched a cigarette in my life." The girl promised. House bounced his cane impatiently off the floor, thinking for a second.
"What about toothbrushes?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"They're great things, don't you think?" He said, "I mean, they clean your teeth, they can clean your toilet, you know, get into the hard to reach places. They're also good for sticking down your throat." The girl smirked at him.
"I don't stick toothbrushes down my throat." She laughed.
"What? Do you use your fingers?" He asked, a mock look of disgust on his face "Well, I hope you wash your hands."
"I'm not bulimic." The girl said simply, looking him straight in the eye. House shrugged.
"You completely sure?" He asked. The girl smiled again.
"Yes. I think I'd know if I was." She told him with conviction, "Anyway, if this was caused by bulimia the blood I cough up with be a darker colour. It's a light a light red colour. It isn't coming from my oesophagus. So unless I enjoy sticking toothbrushes down my trachea, it's not that." House sat staring at her for a second, shocked a bit at how up front she was being, and how much she knew. She'd obviously been paying attention the past couple of years. He pouted slightly and looked at the ground.
"Well, I don't know what kids these days are into, toothbrushes might be the new crazy fad." He sighed, pushing himself up with his cane, so he was standing upright. He took one last look at her, "But I'm guessing that you're not the 'fat girl' in your class."
"No, I'm not, and I never was." The girl carefully removed her hand from the gauze, making sure it was firmly in place between her lower arm and her upper arm and then picked up the book that she had been reading, setting it on her lap, "I'm not just a typical insecure teenager."
"I'll believe that when I see it!" House laughed, he made his way over to the door. He paused for a second, and looked back at her. "About your arm..." He started, "You're not going to sue me or anything." The girl raised and eyebrow and a smile formed on her lips, a giggle erupting for her throat. She shook her head.
"No, I'm not going to sue you." She laughed. House nodded.
"Good. Because technically it was Chase who stuck that thing in your arm." He said, he stepped out the door, but before it closed he heard the patient again.
"Bye Dr. House." She called.