"Life and Limb"
Chapter Eight-"Life is What Happens While You're Making Other Plans"
By: Purpleu
Lydia caught up with House a few feet past the door from the walkway. He was leaning heavily on his cane, but still moving quickly, a determined look on his face.
"Greg, slow down; he's not going anywhere," Lydia said as she tried to keep up with the strides that House's long legs took.
"I want to be there when he wakes up; get those damn tubes out of him so he can talk," House replied.
"Did the nurse in recovery say he tried to open his eyes?"
"No. He seems to be aware of the fact that he can't move his legs due to the epidural we gave him to keep the pain meds down to a dull roar. He keeps trying to move his hands to touch his legs and he can't because we have him roped and tied," House said pausing to take a drink from the water fountain on the wall and a few deep breaths besides.
"Where's the water bottle you had?" Lydia asked, looking at the pocket on the scrubs House was wearing.
"I must have left it on the bench." Lydia looked at his face; he still looked a ghastly white color.
"Greg, hold still a minute." Lydia reached into the pocket of her scrubs and fished around. She managed to pull out one last napkin. She moistened it in the water fountain, and began to wipe House's face. "You have some remnants from your throwing up before. I don't think you want James to see you like that." House was impatient, he wanted to get moving; but he was also grateful for the concern toward him and Wilson. Although Lydia wasn't the kind of person to expect anything in return for her kindness, House knew more and more as crap kept piling up, he wanted to do or give something special to her when all of this was over. Nothing that special, but something that would make her happy, a weekend trip or just some time alone. Life was dumping on him, as usual, but because of Lydia, it hurt just a little bit less.
"Am I presentable yet? Or do you want to check behind my ears and see if my nails are dirty while you're at it?" Lydia shook her head and smiled.
"You look like you've been through the ringer," she said. "But at least you're clean." She tossed the used napkin in the nearby receptacle and continued on with House.
"When we get to the waiting room, you peel off and hold back the maddening throng while I check on the Boy Wonder. I'll do what I can to make him a more pleasing site."
"And when you do, you'll feel better that James is doing well," Lydia noted.
"That, too. He's got a few more hurdles in his way; stumbling over them is a common, yet unsettling thing to deal with. For us as well as him." When they got near the waiting room, Lydia quickened her pace to a trot so she could distract everyone while House went into recovery.
"I'm off to play security guard," Lydia said quietly to House. "I'll see you in a bit. I love you."
"Love you, too," House said with equally hushed tones. Boy, do I love you; more than I'm comfortable with sometimes, House thought. He put all other ideas, Lydia and his mother included, out of his head as he entered the recovery room. House looked toward Wilson, and saw that Bonnie, the nurse had been right: Wilson was moving his head back and forth slightly, clenching and unclenching his hands. The bed restraints were preventing him from accomplishing too much of anything, but was he ever trying to make a break for it. Those things were going to be the first things to go after House made eye contact with Wilson; they reminded him too much of his time in Mayfield.
"Hi," Bonnie said as she met House by the foot of Wilson's bed. "Here's his chart; his vitals have been getting stronger as he gets closer to waking up. But look at his urine." House looked down and saw that is was decidedly brownish/red in tone.
"We've already emptied one bag," Bonnie said. "That one got progressive darker as time passed, and took on the slight reddish hue the more it filled up. It didn't look too bad at first; we thought the catheter was irritating him. But when we watched this bag…I was going to call you any way, even if he wasn't waking up," Bonnie said, glancing at Wilson with concern. House flipped open Wilson's chart and looked it over quickly; Wilson was doing well enough, but House knew what could be lurking under the surface, and he was concerned. He closed the binder and handed it back to Bonnie.
"Let's extubate him, NG as well as respiratory. Before we do that, let me give him a wake-up call so he can be helpful with his own care. Just so you know, and make whoever is taking care of Wilson know this too…He's not going to be acting like the charming and boyish Dr. Wilson you all know and love. There are times he's going to be sounding like a real bastard."
"I'll go get what's needed," Bonnie said, taken back by what House told her. She hurried over to the nurses' station and started talking to an aide, gesturing toward Wilson's bed. House took a deep breath, and placed his hand on Wilson's shoulder.
"ABBA has decided to re-unite to do a private concert just for you. But only if you open your eyes," House said, sounding like a disc jockey promoting a show. Wilson's eyes fluttered open; he tried to focus, but the lights were too bright for him. House picked up on the problem.
"We're going to need the lights to get a couple of the tubes out. Once Florence Nightingale and I do that, I'll switch things around so you don't feel like you're being interrogated by Dick Tracy," he said. Wilson started struggling against the restraints; House swore he was mouthing the word "Why?"
"Take it easy; you're sending your heart rate and pressure through the roof. You're restrained because like most patients, you think you know more than your doctor does and you want to pull the damn tubes out. I will attempt to perform such a feat now with help of my lovely assistant," House said indicating Bonnie, who had joined him at the bedside. The two worked quickly, and in no time, Wilson could speak; or at least try to. Wilson cleared his throat several times before he tried to say anything.
"House," he managed to croak out. "I can't…feel my legs…"
"That's because I have you on an epidural; keeps your need for pain meds low, thereby preventing you from becoming me."
"That's the last thing…I want." Wilson said it seriously, and as such it was a harsh statement; but House knew that between just coming out of anesthesia, the blood loss and the trauma of the event, Wilson would be saying a number of things without a filter. House undid the bed restraints; Wilson moved his hands around and wiggled his fingers to get the blood flowing.
"Here…take some of these," House said as he scooped up some ice chips with a spoon and offered them to Wilson. He slowly opened his mouth just enough for House to slide the ice chips off the spoon. "Don't start chewing them," House said putting down the cup and spoon. "Annie came back on Tuesday, you can't be sexually frustrated already." Wilson swallowed the little bit of water he gleaned from the ice; it was extremely soothing to his throat.
"Where is Annie?" he asked, his voice at little stronger, and sounding more like the Wilson that House knew.
"She's out in the waiting room, along with your parents, and about half the population of the city of Princeton," House said as he sent Lydia a text message. "They'll be in here soon. Just gave the all clear."
"Why the hell did you call my parents? I don't need them…them carrying on like I'm dead already," Wilson mumbled as he took another spoonful of ice from House.
"I didn't; Songbird did." House was glad he managed to dodge the bullet on that one.
"I…" Wilson turned his head toward the door as he heard familiar voices. His parents, Annie and Lydia came into view.
"Keep it down to a dull roar, will you?" House asked. "He may be the great and powerful Oz around here as a member of the management team, but we still can be asked to leave if your enthusiasm disturbs the other zombies in the room."
"Oh, my God, James!" Annie gave Wilson a very careful hug and a kiss. "Honey, I'm so glad to see you sitting up…"
"I'm not sitting, I'm tilting," Wilson corrected.
"Oh, whatever," she said dismissively. "You look so much better than when I saw you in the E.R. When your heart stopped…I thought mine was going to also." Annie tried not to cry, but it was no use.
"Please…please tell me there are tissues handy," Wilson said. "Lots of them. When she starts…she doesn't stop."
"There's a box here, on the bed tray," Lydia said showing it to Wilson and then offering it to Annie. Wilson let out at little laugh.
"You'll need something five…no ten times that size…for Weepy Wilma." Annie looked hurt by the comment; Lydia was surprised. Wilson's parents blocked his view of House, who gestured with his hand that the women should take it easy.
"James," Claudia Wilson said. "Dad and I are both here." She took her son's hand and very gently began to rub it.
"Yeah…I can see that, Mom. Dad shouldn't be dealing with this kind of stress. It's no good for either of you," Wilson said squeezing his mother's hand. "Plus I don't need…I don't want…the hassle of listening to the two of you…lament over your wounded son." Wilson shook his head. "I…I'm sorry, Mom, Dad…I didn't mean that…the way it sounded." Wilson's eyes had a look of fear in them as he took in each of the faces around him. "Annie, did…did I hit my head when I fought with the guy…all because you wouldn't give him that damn necklace?" Wilson closed his eyes as soon as he finished speaking.
"No." Annie replied. She forced herself not to break down; she knew something was wrong. This was not the James Wilson she knew and loved. House stepped out from behind Wilson's parents; Wilson made immediate eye contact with him. The confusion of why he was sounding more like House than Wilson could clearly be seen as he quickly shifted his gaze from one person to another.
"Son, you've been through a very rough time. From what they," Henry Wilson indicated Lydia and Annie. "And Greg have told us, you're lucky to be alive." Wilson started coughing as he tried to answer his father. Annie picked up the spoon and the cup with ice chips that House had left on the bed tray and began to feed some to Wilson. She managed to give him one or two spoonfuls that had more water than ice; for that Wilson was grateful.
"Thanks, Babe. That feels much better." He looked her up and down, a look of curiosity coming over his face. "Why…Why are you in scrubs?"
"Lydia and I got so much blood on us that we had to change and take showers. Lydia had to have Greg help her because she couldn't get her hands wet with the bandages on them."
"Wha…What?" Wilson looked over at Lydia who held up her hands to show him the bandages on her fingers. His eyes grew bigger as he saw them and the bandage on her head. "I…can't remember things clearly. I don't…remember…"
"After the trauma you've been through, that's not surprising," Wilson's dad said. "You should take it easy; maybe when you've rested…"
"Maybe…when I don't have you telling me what to do…I'll be better off. I'm a…a grown man, for God's sake!" House glanced at the monitors, and saw that Wilson's pulse and BP were going up again; dangerously high, in fact. He casually moved around to the side of the bed where the IV's were hanging, and increased the rate of the morphine just enough so that Wilson would go back out. He had done too much socializing already.
"James! Your father's just trying to be supportive of you," Mrs. Wilson said. "You don't need…"
"I don't need you hovering over me! I'm…I'm fine. I've got Annie." Wilson reached out toward Annie, who took his hand. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even," he said starting to laugh slightly as he began to feel the effects of the additional morphine. "Even if…even if it is really creepy…how she didn't talk to anyone…for ten? Ten years?" Wilson said as he looked at Annie. His grip on her hand loosened, and he began to slide to his left. House grabbed him, and prevented him from falling against the bed rails.
"Nurse!" Lydia called out as she came around to help House as best she could with her bandaged fingers. Annie joined Mr. and Mrs. Wilson who had moved to the foot of the bed; they stood huddled together, not knowing what to do. Bonnie, the nurse, came hurrying over with an aide. With the two of them working together, Wilson was properly reposition.
"Thank you," Lydia said to the women.
"No problem. You're not up to doing too much right now," Bonnie said. "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking back and forth between Lydia and Annie.
"Trying to hold on," Lydia said ruefully.
"I'd feel better if I knew what was going on," Annie said. "Why was he acting like that? That's not James. And why is his pee brown?" Claudia and Henry Wilson gasped as they looked down at the bag that hung to the front right of their son's bed.
"There's lots of answers to the tons of questions all of you have," House said. "I need to tell my team and anyone who's dealing with Wilson over the next few days what the scoop is. Go back into the waiting area…drink, nosh…whatever you want to do. I'll be in to give you the lowdown in a few." Mrs. Wilson came over to the side of Wilson's bed, ran her hand through his hair, then leaned down to give her son a kiss on his cheek.
"Ayt gezunt shnel," Claudia Wilson said as she started to cry. "Mwtʻr lyb ʼyr." She stepped back to allow her husband to come in. Henry Wilson looked down on his son and shook his head back and forth.
"Come on, Jimmy; fight for it, damn it!" He kissed his son's cheek and took a few steps away. Both of the Wilsons realized that Lydia was smiling at them. "You understood what my wife said, didn't you?"
"Of course she did," Claudia Wilson said. "She's from Germany, remember?" Annie looked at Lydia with amusement.
"Could you translate for me, please? I'm lucky I know the little bit of German I've picked up from you over the years," she said as she wiped away her tears.
"James' mother said, 'Get well soon; Mother loves you,'" Lydia replied.
"Perfect!" Mrs. Wilson said as she gave Lydia a hug. House wasn't sure how Lydia and Annie were managing to hold it together after the emotional display from Wilson's parents; he was having trouble dealing with what he was realizing about Wilson's situation. House didn't want it to manifest in its usual way: anger and snarkiness. No one needed to hear that, especially not himself.
"Bye, Babe. You get a good rest; maybe you'll be more like yourself then," Annie said stroking Wilson's cheek. She bent down and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. "James, come back to me," she pleaded as she turned to walk away. Lydia put her arms around Annie and gave her a hug.
"He'll be OK," Lydia reassured her. "Greg has more than a vested interest in getting him better. He'll make sure James gets the best care available. Come on; let's go settle down and then Greg can explain everything to us." Annie nodded and went over to the Wilsons. Mrs. Wilson put her arm around Annie, as Mr. Wilson took her free hand and led the group to the recovery room doors. Lydia watched as her friend left, then turned to House.
"On a scale of one to ten, how worried are you?" she asked. House looked up from Wilson and saw the fear in her eyes. It was equal to the fear in his heart.
"Infinity…and beyond." House answered grimly. "Go join the others; I'll be right in." Lydia nodded and headed out the doors. He went over to the nurse's station, picked up Wilson's chart, which had been left on top of the counter, and started to make some notes.
"I…I couldn't help overhearing some of the things Dr. Wilson was saying," Bonnie said as she returned from another patient's bedside. "That's not him." House finished writing and looked at the nurse.
"That's him when the wires on the sieve of his brain are broken." House walked over to Wilson's bed; if you went by only the numbers on the monitor, one would think that everything was going well. Unfortunately, House knew better.
"Sorry I have to do this, Wilson," House said as he gently placed Wilson's wrists in the restraints. "You already have fewer pieces to your anatomy than what you came into work with yesterday. I don't want any more to get messed up." He let out a long sigh as he tapped Wilson on the shoulder. House walked over to Bonnie, made her aware to re-set Wilson's morphine drip to where it had been, and headed out to the waiting room. As he was still in the hall, House saw Chase and Foreman emerge from the men's room.
"I always thought only women flocked together to the powder room; or are you revealing a latent tendency that I figured out a while ago?" If not for House's lousy appearance, and the news that just came from recovery via Annie, Lydia and Wilson's parents, the guys would have busted House's chops a bit. But they, too became concerned with Wilson upon hearing the report.
"House…what the hell is going on with Wilson?" Foreman asked. "Did he suffer a head injury? I wasn't looking for it, but…"
"I didn't see any evidence of trauma to his head, either," Chase said. "His behavior reminds me of that case we had a few years ago…"
"That guy needed surgery," House noted. "I'm hoping that's not true in Wilson's case. Let's go inside so I only have to repeat the gory details once." The group entered the waiting room; a hush fell over it as House went over to get himself a cup of coffee.
"How many of those have you had tonight?" Tom asked.
"Not enough," House said. Tom had noticed that House's hands were shaking slightly as he stirred the cup. Caffeine overload? Nervous about Wilson? Overtired? Concerned about his mother? Whether it was one or all of those choices, Tom was keeping a close eye on House. Lydia had been doing a good job of helping her boyfriend deal with all that was going on here and with his mother, but she looked like she was ready to drop as well.
"OK," House said sitting down in a chair and putting his feet on a table in front of him. "I'm going to go through this as completely and simplistically as I can. We have a mixture of people here, from those who'll know everything I'm talking about to those I'll have to repeat things to ten times." House looked directly at Wilson's parents and Annie. Lydia at least had enough knowledge to understand the basics, and House's team plus Slick and Tom would need no further explanations. "PTSD, Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder is something we hear a lot about in the here and now. It's actually been around for years, going back to World War One, when soldiers came home 'shell shocked,' and even beyond that. Thing is, you don't have to suffer an actual head injury, to suffer from PTSD. Whether it's a minor injury plus the horror of the incident you witnessed or seeing your buddy having his legs blown off…the damage is there. Wilson suffered multiple physical traumas: the loss of blood, the artery injury, the broken hip. On top of that, a vein had to be robbed from one part of his body and put in another to make a repair. Now add in that he had almost his total volume of blood replaced in a relatively short amount of time," House closed his eyes and sighed. "You have a perfect set-up for multiple problems."
"How many units did he receive?" asked Slick.
"Almost five full units of whole blood, and my two units of plasma."
"Damn!" Slick exclaimed in response. Tom let out a low whistle.
"I think I know where you're going with this," said Tom as he nodded. "But I'll let you tell the tale; better to have only one narrator."
"Thanks," House said sarcastically. "So, starting with the PTSD and Wilson's uncharacteristic anti-social behavior; the body responds to the stress in various ways, one of which is a swelling of the frontal cortex of the brain from lack of blood and nourishment for the tissue. That's the area that acts as a filter, along the lines of 'Honey, does this dress make me look fat?' to which your answer is 'No, of course not,' when your brain is thinking, 'No more so than usual.'" House's vocal inflections when giving them an example of how the brain works, drew laughs from everyone. It was a welcomed relief from the tension in the room.
"I'll keep that in mind the next time I ask you if I look OK," Lydia said pretending to be hurt.
"You always look OK. There are times when you look spectacular…like when you're naked," House said as he took a sip of coffee.
"Here sits a man who clearly works without a filter," quipped Henry Wilson.
"Can't waste mind power on being nice; there are much more important things in this world. Like Wilson." House brought his feet down from the table and hunched over them.
"So James' acting nasty before is because of the swelling in his brain?" Annie asked. "Is…is that permanent or can that be fixed?"
"It's that and the trauma of what he saw. He's saying now he can't remember it; but his sub-conscious will reveal it to him over time. He'll recall the mugger going after you, the gun being pointed at you," House said indicating Lydia. "He will never forget being shot, trust me on that one." House took another drink of his coffee; Tom noticed the shaking in his hands had gotten worse. "Hopefully, as long as there's no bleeding in the area, the swelling will go down on its own in about seventy-two hours, and Wilson will return to his too-nice-to-be-believed persona. If there's bleeding…" House closed his eyes at the thought
"Are you going to want a CT scan on him?" Thirteen asked.
"Normally, yeah; but his kidneys can't handle it as evidenced by the fact that his pee matches the color of that nicely browned bagel you're holding," replied House. "We'll have to go straight for an MRI with contrast, fill him up with two liters of saline before and after…see what we've got. I'm expecting some swelling; I'm hoping for not too much." Tom watched as House set his cup down.
"House, when was the last time you ate anything?" he asked as he walked over. "Because either you're wiped out from the plasma donation, or you're blood sugar is low. You're sweating and shaking like crazy."
"I ate yesterday, which was only a few hours ago, so you can't yell at me. I'm fine; let's get back to Wilson."
"What in the world is making his pee turn so brown?" Mrs. Wilson asked. "You just said his kidneys can't handle a test. Does he need dialysis?" House shook his head.
"No; that too will be temporary. But in the meantime, it does alter our approach to his care and diagnoses of his condition," said House as he twirled his cane between his fingers.
"The brownish color is from dying and hurt muscle tissue, isn't it?" Lydia asked. "And the little bit of red from shredded red blood cells?" House nodded with a slight smile on his face; that straight "A" average Lydia carries isn't just because she repeats things like a parrot. She knows how to apply the knowledge she's gained.
"Why are the blood cells shredded?" Annie asked.
"Because of the volume of blood he had to be given. Even when it's the correct blood type," House said glancing at Lydia. "The body doesn't always perfectly accept the introduction of the foreign blood. It's temporary, as hopefully all these abbey-normal things are." House heard a little laugh and turned his head; he saw Lydia smiling at him with a playful look in her eyes. "Young Frankenstein" had been the first movie they watched together after a delicious dinner and before a wonderfully emotional and sexy night. Any joke either made that referenced the movie, always brought a smile to the other one's face.
"So you're hoping that all of these…glitches…to James' recovery will pass and he'll be alright?" Henry Wilson asked.
"Yeah," answered House as he stared down at the floor. "A lot of what's going on is a combination of the physical traumas he suffered and the emotion traumas. I'm not a fan of skull punchers in any shape, way or form; the decision on whether Wilson wants to seek help in that area is up to him. But personally, I'd prescribe a good pizza, a couple of six packs of quality beer and a night of video games. If after that, he wants to talk…I'll listen."
"House, you may not be the right person to handle Wilson's issues with this event," Foreman said. "You've got a lot of…personal issues with it as well. You saw him covered in blood, he coded right in front of you; you found out that Annie had been threatened, Lydia had a gun put to her head…that's a lot for one person to handle."
"You forgot the part about my mother slowly counting down her days; my other patient, Fire Marshall Bill, who we don't have the slightest clue of what's going on with him. And then there's me and my leg that everyone would just love for me to make a snap decision about, despite the fact that it's not their leg!" House had been standing, pacing back and forth as he got more and more agitated; now, he stumbled and fell into the chair where Lydia was sitting. Fortunately, Lydia reacted fast enough to put her hands up above her head so House wouldn't land on them. After that display, no one in the room was going to let him talk his way out of getting some attention.
"House, sit down and let's get a blood sugar on you," Slick said. "At least that can be a starting point. I'm going to see if they have a glucometer in recovery," he said to Tom as he hurried past him.
"Good idea," Tom said getting House settled into the seat.
"I don't have hypo- or hyperglycemia," House said in an annoyed voice. "I just have too many people who want a piece of me right now." Slick came back in with a small plastic case in his hand.
"Got it." Slick prepped the machine and set up the lancet to poke House's finger, "OK; which one are we going for?" he asked as he ripped open the pack holding the alcohol swab.
"This one," House said extending the middle finger of his right hand. Lydia gave him a disapproving look.
"Greg! That's not nice; they're trying to help you."
"It's OK, Lydia; I was expecting it," Slick said. He swabbed House's finger, clicked the lancet, and got the drop of blood onto the testing strip.
"Fifty-seven," Slick announced a second after the machine beeped to signal it was done.
"Is that not good?" Mrs. Wilson asked.
"Not if you'd like to be mentally alert and physically coordinated," Taub noted. House hated the attention being piled on him; he decided the best thing he could was to give in…his way. He very gingerly stood up.
"I am going to the little boys' room and do a big boy thing," House announced. "While I'm gone, someone go through that pile of sandwiches, find me a ham and Swiss on anything; take the greenery off. I'll take a bottle of Coke and a bag of chips; Fraulein knows what type I like. When I return…I'll sit down and eat…under protest." House turned and headed out of the room. He was almost to the men's room door, when he heard someone call his name.
"Greg!" Annie came hurrying down the hall to him.
"You know, I wasn't lying; I really do have to pee." Annie laughed and put her head down.
"I'm sorry, I…I just…" House could see she was having a hard time finding the right words. He thought that he might as well help her out with his own thoughts on the matter, without letting her know they're his.
"You're scared. You're scared you're going to lose the James Wilson that means the world to you. You're afraid that you'll never have him back to play pinball or air hockey with…or share a goofy joke." House let out a sigh. "Do you really think I would let anything happen to the James and…the Wilson that we've each come to know? Are you doubting my abilities?" House asked, changing his tone to teasing and playful. Annie laughed, then became very serious again.
"Even you can't save everyone Greg; as much as you want to, as much as you think you should." House looked away, down the hall to the recovery doors. "I don't want to lose him. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him alive." House closed his eyes; an image from long ago popped into his head. He could imagine Stacy and Cuddy outside his hospital room, Stacy making the same desperate plea for his life. House knew he wouldn't let this end the same way.
"I got you out of the hell you were stuck in; I'll do the same for Wilson," House said quietly. Annie put her arms around him and held on tightly as she started to cry.
"I'm so happy that Lydia has you. You…you may have a rough way of dealing with things sometimes, but your heart is always in the right place." Annie gave House another hug; he knew that she was quite sincere in what she said. Somehow, that made him all the more uncomfortable.
"Hey, no getting my scrubs wet. Depending on where the tears fall, they're going to think I had an accident. Go back inside; make sure they're not messing with my sandwich order. Your pal is always trying to sneak a veggie of some sort into my meals; I need comfort food right now and that ain't it." Annie smiled and turned back to the waiting room; House went into the men's room to attend to his needs. When he returned to the waiting room, he saw a plate with a delicious looking sandwich and some macaroni salad. His requested bag of chips and soda sat next to it. He sat down, picked up the sandwich and inspected the contents.
"You didn't trust me?" Annie asked.
"Just making sure she didn't pull rank on you," House said as he took a bite. "Girlfriend outranks best friend's girlfriend."
"And despite my lofty position, I still can't get you to eat your veggies," Lydia said shaking her head. "Some things just aren't worth the effort."
"Nope," said House as he opened the bag of chips.
"Greg, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Henry Wilson asked. "I'm sure it's just us being dense about things…but we need to…try and understand what's going on with James."
"Fire when ready," House said putting his feet back up on the table in front of him and starting to eat.
"Now, this…unusual behavior is due to swelling in the front of his brain; but it's not because he was injured there. His brain didn't get enough blood to feed the tissue?"
"Doing great so far," said House taking a drink of his Coke. "It's also due to the trauma Wilson's entire body went through; it's how the brain responds."
"And you think that this will go away in seventy-two hours?" Claudia Wilson asked. House looked away from the Wilsons.
"Why do I think you're more concerned about the fact that Sonny Boy didn't welcome you with open arms than you are about his survival chances?" House said getting really annoyed with the Wilsons. "The fact is, I can't even do a basic test on him to check on how badly the brain is effected because his kidneys are too stressed out to handle it. And you want to know when he's going to start saying 'Mother, may I' again?"
"We want to know what James is facing, what he's trying to deal with," Mrs. Wilson said. "It seemed like he knew that he was saying things that he didn't mean and it upset him."
"Yeah, because he knows he's getting caught saying what's on his mind, instead of holding back and then finally letting it out by breaking an antique mirror among other things," House noted.
"What do you mean? James never broke a mirror. He knows I believe in the adage of seven years bad luck," Mrs. Wilson said.
"Actually it's been more like twenty years," Foreman quipped. House shot him a look; he was too tired to start a war of words.
"You don't know how James and Greg met, do you?" Lydia asked.
"They met at a medical convention," Mr. Wilson said. Annie started laughing.
"They met at a medical convention where James was served with papers for his first divorce. He got ticked off because someone kept playing 'Leave a Tender Moment Alone' over and over again on the jukebox. James got really mad and broke an antique mirror; Greg bailed him out of jail."
"He never told us he was arrested," Mr. Wilson said indignantly.
"OOPS! Looks like Jimmy Jack isn't perfect," House said dryly.
"Can we get back to talking about James' condition?" Mrs. Wilson said wearily. "How long will the physical part of the healing take? Will he have to go to live at a rehabilitation center?"
"Tom is one hell of a therapist," House said nodding in his direction. "Hate to admit it, but he's even gotten me to sweat and choke down the right pills; mainly because he gets quick and noticeable results. And Songbird's place is at ground level, so Wilson will be able to start off there, eventually work his way back to his place."
"The thing is, Wilson's speed of recovery will be up to him. He knows my story, he knows the hell I went through with my legs; I'm not going to put down the pain he's going to feel as meaningless," Tom said approaching the Wilsons. He sat down across from them. "I know he's going to hurt as he works to strengthen muscles he didn't know he had. No pain, no gain may have been a catch phrase for the fitness boom of the eighties, but it's also the truth when it's the right kind of pain."
"Can we help in any way?" Henry Wilson asked.
"Yes; don't baby him. I'll make sure Annie knows what he can and can't do. She'll pass the word along to you, and you can go from there."
"And his kidneys will be alright in seventy-two hours?" Claudia Wilson asked. House sighed.
"All times given are approximate and management is not responsible for any changes in the schedule. It could be in forty-eight hours, it could be eighty-four hours. No way to be any more precise."
"What will you do if that test shows that his brain is bleeding?" Henry Wilson asked. House closed his eyes.
"Go out and buy my own pack of cigarettes." He stood and threw his now empty plate in the trash; House grabbed his soda bottle and sat down on one of the couches in the room. "Wilson won't be awake again for a while. I'm going to get some shut eye." House swung his feet onto the couch and tried to prop the pillow into a comfortable position, but with no luck.
"Let me go into recovery and see if they can spare a few blankets and pillows," Thirteen said after watching House struggle for a minute.
"There are plenty of free beds in recovery," House noted. "Looks like everyone made the eleven a.m. check out time." He squirmed around on the couch trying to find just the right spot, but to no avail.
"I was going to be on the overnight with our patient anyway," Thirteen said. "If you guys want to go home and get some rest…" Chase, Foreman and Taub all looked at each other and shrugged.
"I already texted Rachel that I would be staying here tonight," said Taub.
"And for once you actually will be working late," House commented as he sat up and started to tap his cane on the floor. House's body was tired, his mind couldn't rest.
"Um, House?" Thirteen had stopped as she was about to head to get the bedding. "We finally have some results from the lab on our patient with the bum leg. They've run the swab of the wound area three times. It is bacteria, gram positive, staphylococcus."
"Well that's a better starting point than us just shooting around in the dark." House twirled his cane through his fingers; as he did, he realized everyone was staring at him. "Sorry, poor choice of words. We still have to find out what kind of calls he went out on in the past month. In the meantime, start him on IV cephalosporine, third generation." Thirteen nodded.
"I can tell you what kind of calls his house went out on all month," Slick said as he fiddled with his phone. "Narrowing it down to what calls happened on his shifts, you'll have to check with the house commander."
"I've gotten the name of his shift supervisor where he works, and at the fire house he volunteers at," Lydia said. "Could you e-mail me the list of calls?"
"Sure; I think I have your e-mail in here…" Slick said as he looked at his smart phone.
"It's 'KuteKraut ..." House began to say before Lydia quickly interrupted him.
"It is not. That's an email account you set up without my knowledge so you could send me…private messages," Lydia said.
"Awww, I think that's a cute name for an e-mail account for you," Annie said.
"No, it's not 'cute.' You've heard of 'Fifty Shades of Gray?' This is 'Fifty Shades of Greg,'" said Lydia shaking her head.
"You have no problem sending me back appropriate responses," House said as he leaned his chin on the handle of his cane. Everyone got a laugh from the look on Lydia's face.
"OK, guys…sleeping arrangements…" Foreman started to say.
"Don't worry about me," Slick said. "I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours. I'm heading for home and I'm passing out. What time do you think you'll be moving Wilson to I.C.U.?"
"Probably around noon. He should be back amongst the living by then and hurling insults far and wide," House said as he attempted to lay down again, this time with his legs draped over Lydia.
"I'm going to head home, too," Tom said. "I've got some patients coming to the office in the morning; then I was scheduled to come here in the afternoon anyway, so the timing should work out well."
"Do me a favor? Tell the kids not to start calling me at six in the morning to ask how everyone is. I'll call them around…eight, tell them. Marianne will be coming here with them at noon…" Lydia took a deep breath. "I'll find something to keep them occupied."
"Well, let me get on the road," Tom said as he started to exchange goodbyes will everyone. When he got to the Wilsons, Tom made sure to offer words of encouragement. "I'll get him up and moving in no time."
"Just in time to transfer ownership of his wheelchair to you," House said. He had his hand over his eyes to block out the harsh lights in the room. Lydia gave him a tap on his legs.
"Greg, please move your legs so I can stand up?" There was no response. "Greg? Don't make me do something you'll regret." House sighed and gave her a look.
"Just when I thought I finally found someone who understands me and my way of approaching life." He lifted his legs up just far enough for Lydia to scoot off the couch.
"Oh, I understand you," Lydia said. "I understand you all too well."
"Here are some pillows and blankets," Thirteen said as she re-entered the room followed by Slick. The two had slipped out to recovery and scored some sleeping material.
"Great. The three of us can snag the cots in the doctors' lounge," Foreman said indicating Chase, Taub and himself. "Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, there are two couches and large chair with an ottoman in the office I share with Wilson. I think you two and Annie will be the most comfortable there. Assuming, of course you want to stay here at the hospital for now."
"Of course, we do," Mrs. Wilson said. "Actually we were going to ask where the closest hotel was; we haven't had the chance to look anything up."
"You're not staying in a hotel," Annie said. "James…isn't using his place at the moment. And I'll be spending most of my time here, so you could stay at my place if you want. Both are equidistant from the hospital."
"We…we wouldn't want to impose…" Mrs. Wilson began.
"Don't you dare even think that way," Annie scolded. "I know you want to be here tonight, but you just let me know when you're ready to sleep in a real bed." Claudia Wilson stood up and came to Annie.
"I hope you can forgive me for what I said earlier in the evening…about whose fault anything was and all that nonsense. You are a lovely woman…and I'm so grateful for how happy you've made James. He's made some poor choices in the past, but not this time." She pulled Annie toward her and the two women stood for a moment in an embrace. "Now," Claudia said as she pulled back from Annie and wiped her eyes. "Where do we go?"
"I'll take you there," Annie said. She started to say good night to everyone, thanking Chase, Foreman and Taub for their work to save Wilson. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough," she said tearing up.
"Convince your boyfriend to stop bouncing his leg up and down while he's working on something with me. It drives me out of my mind," Foreman complained.
"I'll see what I can do," Annie said laughing. She turned to House; she wrapped her arms around him, but said nothing. She didn't need to; they each knew what the other was thinking. "When he wakes up again, tell him I love him."
"I think he already knows that, but I'll pass the message along," House said. "In case he forgot." Annie gave him a look and went to hug Lydia; that's when the tears really began to flow.
"Shh! Stop; he's going to be OK," Lydia said. "He's got the best doctors in the world taking care of him," she said looking around the room. "Go get some sleep."
"I will; you, too." The Wilsons came next exchanging the same thanks with all concerned with their son's care. Then they came to House.
"You are a difficult man to understand," Henry Wilson began. "But it is very easy to see your care and concern for James. For that, I'm very grateful." Mr. Wilson moved away and Mrs. Wilson came over to House, and put her arms on his shoulders.
"You're mishugena up here," she said pointing to his head. "But not here," she said pointing to his heart. She gave House a kiss on the cheek and turned to walk away. House was clearly flustered.
"If there's any activity from in there," House said pointing to recovery. "I'll call you on your cell," he said to Claudia Wilson. "Songbird doesn't have hers and the office phone will just be a pain in the butt to deal with." She smiled.
"Thank you."
"I'm heading out folks," Tom said as he gave Lydia a quick kiss. "I started to do this about ten minutes ago…somehow I didn't get there."
"Go," Lydia said. "Give Marianne and the kids a kiss for me…tell them I love them."
"I will," Tom said and he left to go get some sleep.
"You OK with these things?" Slick asked Thirteen indicating the pile of blankets and pillows.
"Yeah, I think I can handle it," she laughed.
"Cool, see you tomorrow. Oh, Lydia, I sent you that call list for your patient. Night, everyone." Slick left for his home and some rest.
"I'm going to crash on the sofa in Wilson's office up on the fourth floor," Thirteen said. "It's not like I haven't done it before."
"How have you been feeling with those migraines?" Chase asked. "You haven't mentioned them, and I haven't caught you holding your head in pain." Thirteen shrugged.
"I've had a few instances. I slept here one night last week and I thought I was going to have one right after we took care of Wilson in the E.R., but…I'm OK. Just a regular headache right now."
"Probably lack of sleep," House said. "I'll send out the Bat Signal when Wilson wakes up. Once he's settled in I.C.U., we'll start the two liters of saline. Should be able to have an answer to the condition of his frontal cortex sometime after that."
"I've got to send out a couple of texts and cancel some meetings for tomorrow," Foreman said. "I won't be able to concentrate on much other than…" He indicated recovery. "Well, we better go see what's open as far as the cots."
"There are loungers in the room if we need them," Taub pointed out.
"Hell, I'll drag a Gerri Chair in there if I have to," Chase said laughing. The air was suddenly pierced by the same type of whistle House had used to silence the room earlier. His team and Lydia all turned to look at him.
"You…you all did good work…in the E.R. and the O.R. Thanks." His team could appreciate how difficult it was for House to express his gratitude to them for helping to save Wilson's life; the fact that he said anything at all was amazing.
"House, you know…you're going to have to learn to share," Thirteen said. "It's not at the same level, but Wilson is our friend, too." House just nodded as he stared down at the floor.
"Thank you," Lydia said as she went to each team member and gave them a hug. "I don't want to think about how things would be if anything had happened to James."
"Oh, the people from Cherry Valley Deli will be stopping in to clean everything up," Foreman said. "They're going to bring a small breakfast spread…bagels, muffins, juice. After that, I figure Wilson will be moved up to I.C.U. and everyone will be eating at various times."
"Why?" House's team looked at each other.
"Excuse me?" Chase asked.
"Fraulein told me you footed the bill for the smorgasbord that's been rotating around here. Why?" House picked his head up and looked at his team. They were exchanging looks, trying to silently figure who would answer the question.
"It just seemed like a nice thing to do," Thirteen said. "We knew there would be a crowd of people, maybe even the kids stopping by, which they did…it was just something we wanted to do."
"You could've just charged it to our department; I wouldn't have given a rat's ass," House said.
"No…no. You haven't sat in an office with Wilson and listened to him bitch about departments going over their budgets for frivolous purchases. Radiology bought Starbucks for their coffee maker instead of the stuff from the food services…you should have heard him!" Even House managed a slight smile at Foreman's tale of Wilson's penny pinching.
"Wilson's had a bug up his butt about Starbucks ever since he was hitting on one of the baristas a few months back, before he met Songbird. She let him know she wasn't interested by giving him a triple shot of Espresso in his coffee. He moved like a Mexican jumping bean for the rest of the day. Wilson was supposed to come over for pizza and video games that night; I had to go to his place armed with Benadryl and whiskey to get him to level off."
"I didn't know James liked whiskey; I've never seen him drink it," Lydia said.
"He did that night; I gave him no choice," House replied. "I sent him a file of pictures to remember the evening by. He's never stepped foot in Starbucks since." Lydia shook her head.
"I can only imagine what you did to that poor man."
"Oh…no you can't," House said leaning back with his eyes closed and a wicked smile.
"So you two are going to sleep here?" Thirteen asked. Lydia nodded. "Let me give you some of these." She handed Lydia two pillows and blankets.
"Does that leave enough for all of you?"
"Yep. We'll be fine," Thirteen said. Lydia made eye contact with her, and with a slight nod of her head, indicated that she wanted to talk. Thirteen picked up on it, and gave a slight nod in return. "Night, House…try to get some rest." She looked over when there was no response.
"I think he's asleep already," Lydia whispered. The five of them walked out into the hallway and moved past recovery until they were sure they were out of earshot of the waiting room.
"Lydia, is he OK?" Thirteen asked. "I watched him munch all night. There's no way he should have had a low blood sugar."
"You can if you upchucked all the munching you did," Lydia said. After extracting a promise from each of them not to say a word to anyone, Lydia told them what House learned about John House and his mother.
"Damn! First he finds out what really happened with his leg and now this?" Foreman asked. "I am so glad he has you to help him deal with this."
"That's because if he didn't have her, you know we'd be dealing with him," Taub noted.
"He's trying so hard to hold it together," Lydia said. "But I'm worried."
"You know if there's anything you need or anything we can do, just say the word," said Chase.
"Thanks," Lydia said rubbing her eyes. "I appreciate it. See you in a few hours." House's team left for their various sleeping quarters while Lydia returned to the waiting room. House was in the same position, leaning back, his arms spread over the back of the couch. Lydia was used to repositioning him; many times, he fell asleep before her and she had to readjust him to reclaim her side of the bed. Lydia now put his arms down in his lap, turned and lowered his torso and head onto the pillows, and swung his legs up onto the couch. She unfolded a blanket and placed it across his body. The couches were nice and deep; there was enough room for her to lay on her side and semi-spoon with him. House let out a groan, moved his position slightly, and wound up dropping his arm over Lydia. She didn't mind; after everything that had happened that night, it felt good to have House holding her, even if it was in his sleep. It wasn't long before Lydia fell into a slumber…
The sound was muffled, but it made both House and Lydia jump. It took a second for her to realize that it was House's cell phone. He knew what it was a second faster than her and was already squinting his eyes trying to read it.
"In-house," he said as he answered it. "Yeah?"
"Dr. House? It's Bonnie, the nurse from recovery." House looked at the time on the wall clock; six-fifteen a.m.
"What's up?" House asked as he pushed Lydia out of the way and sat up.
"I want to know what's going on!" House recognized the agitated voice in the background as Wilson's.
"Dr. House, he woke up as we were emptying his Foley bag, and started to freak out. Please…he's undone the restraints somehow…you've got to get in here!"