Lots more medical inaccuracies.
My fault. But let's face it, it's not supposed to be realistic.
--
"It's not Wegeners..." Cameron trailed off, relaxing back in her chair. Chase and Foreman were sitting round the table with her, frowns and perplexed looks on their faces, House, on the other hand, was standing at his board. His board was empty except for a large underlined word 'Haemoptysis'. He was staring at it, as if an answer was about to spring off the page.
"Could still be Goodpastures syndrome." Chase suggested.
"Her symptoms have been constant for the past five years, if it were Goodpastures she'd have no kidneys or lungs left." Cameron groaned.
"Yersinia pestis!" House announced suddenly, writing it down quickly on the board. There was a stunned silence in the room as he swung round and looked at them expectantly.
"You think she has..." Foreman screwed up his face, "Bubonic plague?"
"The one and only!"
"But..." Chase looked confused, "How would she have got it?"
"Her mother's a junkie, and I doubt that the apartment she was living in was particularly sanitary." House explained, "I'm sure there are tonnes of rats running about the place."
"Then why doesn't her mother have it?" Foreman asked. House shrugged.
"Maybe she never leaves her bedroom, stays in there shooting up all day, well clear of rats." House suggested. Cameron furrowed her brow, not convinced.
"Then shouldn't she have a headache, or weakness..." House shrugged again.
"She's a brave girl, maybe she fights through it."
"She'd be dead." Chase pointed out, "People who have bubonic plague who aren't treated die within 6 days of contracting it... she's had this thing for five years!"
"There's an incubation period." House pointed out. Chase rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, of two days at most! Usually it only takes a couple of hours."
"The mortality rate of untreated cases is 95." House sighed.
"Exactly!" Foreman exclaimed.
"That's 5 of people who don't die." House shut his eyes, trying to clear his head, "It fits her symptoms. Almost perfectly."
"Because you're making it fit! It's not bubonic plague." Cameron insisted.
"Start her on Chloramphenicol, 30mg." House murmured. Chase's mouth dropped.
"You're not serious!" He cried, standing up, "Chloramphenicol can cause aplastic anemia and even Leukemia! We don't even know if she has it!"
"She has it." House murmured.
"No!" Chase yelled, "She doesn't! You're just looking for something that fits!"
"If it fits, then she has it!"
"Yeah, well there's no need to put her on Chloramphenicol, it's too dangerous, there are other things we could use..."
"Nothing as effective, if she's had it for five years then Chloramphenicol is the best thing to use!" Chase shook his head.
"No, we're not treating her for bubonic plague. Find something else that fits her symptoms better." He insisted, putting his foot down. House frowned but remained silent, and Foreman, Cameron and Chase all made their way over to the door, leaving him to come up with another idea.
--
House was not looking forward to this. He limped quickly down the hallway, heading to the cafeteria. He guessed he'd be there; maybe he actually took his advice. As he stood suspended in the door way he saw the familiar looking man, lining up in the queue, what looked like a bottle of Pepsi in his hand. House frowned and began walking towards him, trying not to be phased by how scary this man looked.
"Mr. Laine?" He murmured. The man turned round, his face dropping and a scowl forming on his lips.
"That's not my name." He grumbled, moving forward in line, "I'm Jeff Andersen."
"Well, Mr. Andersen..." House sighed, "I need to ask you a few things about your daughter."
"Sara's currently talking to Dr. Cuddy." Jeff explained, handing the bottle of Pepsi to the person behind the counter, who took it and rang it up, "You're no longer Emily's doctor."
"Really, because last time I heard, it wasn't up to you." House spat. Jeff swung round, glaring at House.
"We're still her parents, we have a say."
"Not legally." House was getting frustrated, "Look, I just want to ask you one question, one question and I'll leave." Jeff narrowed his eyes at him.
"What is it?"
"Have you ever brought Emily out of the state," He asked calmly, "To anywhere like... California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, Texas..."
"Why are you asking me this, why not just ask Sara?" Jeff muttered.
"She doesn't seem like the type of mom who spends money to send her daughter away for summer vacation." House explained. Jeff glared at him, but knew he was right.
"A few years ago she went to Texas with me, on a business trip, why?"
"How old was she when you went?" House asked quickly. Jeff shrugged.
"I think she was... eleven." He was confused, "I don't see what any of this has to do with-" but before he could finish his sentence House and turned round and was hobbling purposefully towards the exit, a hopeful look on his face.
--
My eyes fluttered open at the sound of someone walking into my room, I rolled over, expecting to see my dad, but instead I was met with a pair of grinning blue eyes. I groaned and pushed myself up into a seated position, pulling some hair off my face.
"Morning." House exclaimed, walking briskly over to my beside.
"Morning." I yawned. I looked up at him, he seemed oddly smug. I gave him a confused look and he turned his head round searching for something, "What is it." He took a big black pen out of his pocket.
"I need paper." He muttered, I looked at the table beside my bed and flicked through the stuff I had on it. Some magazines my dad bought me, which he presumed I'd like, but hadn't touched. I handed one to him. He looked at it for a second and raised his eyebrows.
"Vogue?"
"Don't ask." I laughed. He shrugged and found an almost empty page, bent over and began writing on it. I tried to look over his shoulder but he swatted me away.
"No peeking." He growled. I sat back in my bed, watching as he stood up straight, holding the magazine against his chest. He looked at me expectantly, "You're going to love me for this."
"Seriously?" I giggled, "What is it?"
"It's a word." He told me. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"A word?" He nodded.
"One that, I hope, all the incompetent doctors beforehand never mentioned to you." My eyes widened and a grin split across my face.
"You know what's wrong with me?" I cried.
"I have a hunch." He muttered. He lifted the magazine and slowly handed it to me. I took it off him and set it down on my lap, reading it intently. There was only one word on it, written crudely across the cream page.
"Coccidioidomycosis..." I whispered, I had a slightly confused look on my face, "Why did you write it down?"
"Just want to hear you try to pronounce it." I began to laugh slightly and looked up at him.
"I've never heard of it before!"
"I presume that's a good thing." I nodded enthusiastically and looked at the word again.
"What is it?"
"When you were eleven, your daddy took you away on a business trip with him, to a magical place called Texas." House began, "Or so he told me. Probably wanted to spend time with his darling daughter. There, said darling, inhaled a certain type of spore called 'C. immitis', which 60 of the time doesn't cause any symptoms. However, you're special, and after a while you developed a chronic pulmonary infection which resulted in..."
"Hemoptysis!" I cried happily. House nodded and couldn't help but smile himself, "So, do I need some sort of test?"
"Afraid so." House sighed, his face dropping. Just then the door opened and my father walked in, carrying a bottle of Pepsi he had went to buy for me. His face contorted with anger as he noticed House standing there.
"Get away from my daughter." He growled, he rushed over to my bedside so he was facing House. House shrugged.
"Fine, but I'm sending Chase over later to shove a needle in her chest." House said, "You'll like him, he's british."
"You're not her doctor anymore." My dad told him through gritted teeth.
"He's not?"
"I'm not?"
"No." My dad handed me the bottle of Pepsi, but I just frowned at him, "So you'll keep away from my daughters chest."
"I wasn't going to go near her chest, Chase was." House glanced at me, "He's the pervert."
"Leave. Now." My dad growled. House shrugged and backed away, obediently leaving, giving me one last knowing look before exiting the door.
--
A quick note.
Please do NOT kill me.
I based all of Emily's symptoms around 'Coccidioidomycosis'.
However, for the sake of the story etc. she's going to be negative.
In other words. You will never know what is wrong with her.
I'm sorry.
But for all of you wondering what she had. Well, it's basically coccidioidomycosis.
But if that was the answer in this story... then it would be over by now.
And House would never see Emily again.