-Chapter Four-
Two Hours Through
Discaimer- Although I don't own House, I do own this story, and that's what matters.
- Exam Room Three>- "Let me get this right: her teeth are falling out, and some injuries she'd gotten months ago have started bleeding again?"
Mrs. Tiernan nodded. "It started a month ago, and just kept getting worse."
Gregory House spun around in his chair until he faced the little girl. He grabbed her hands and glanced at the nails. "Vitamin C deficiency. Also known as scurvy. Not too common in the city- you usually find it in sailors that have been out to sea for months. So either your daughter is a pirate, or you need to feed her fresh fruit, and lots of it. Hey, an apple a day…" He scribbled a list of fruits down on a piece of paper, handing it to the young girl's mother. As they turned to leave, House shouted out for the next patient to enter.
A middle aged man entered the exam room, and immediately removed his shoes. "My athlete's foot just won't go away, even though I bought some medication weeks ago."
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute." House wrinkled his nose. "Put your shoes back on, and- did you bring that medicine with you? Good. Toss it here." He caught the tube, then glanced at the label. "Let's see… You've been using this stuff? Well, this isn't antifungal cream. It's foot lotion." House flashed an amused grin at the man. "CVS brand callus softener, 'For Cleaner And Healthier Feet.' No wonder it's not doing a thing for you. Here," House handed the man a prescription. "Tolnaftate. It's a real antifungal cream." He tossed the callus softener back, and watched the man leave.
House stood up. He'd diagnosed four patients in the last half hour. While, at this rate, he'd fulfill his quota of at least eleven patients within the time limit of four hours, he wasn't so sure that his colleagues, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Foreman, could. Maybe he was just paranoid, though.
As he scootched his chair across the room, he got an idea. He had brought his cane with him even though he used crutches, mostly because, being a creature of habit, he felt attached to it, after six years of use. And there it sat, by the doorframe. He doubted he would look authoritarian with a pair of crutches. House leaned them against the doorframe, and grasped the head of the cane, curved handle fitting snugly in his palm. He supported his weight on the cane, shuffling his left foot forwards, and lost his balance. He leaned on his right leg to steady himself, and a stab of pain flared in his ankle, despite the splint and cast he wore. He gave an involuntary gasp, but opened the door and stepped into the clinic lobby.
"Hello everybody, sick or otherwise. Some of you may already know me, I'm Dr. House. Due to a problem staffing this clinic, there are only three doctors here to treat all of you, despite your great numbers. So," he called out with a wicked grin, "those who aren't bleeding, in pain, or needing desperate help, come back tomorrow. Come on people. Exit, exit, exit!"
About twelve people filed out through the sliding doors.
"Great." He pointed to a thin young man barely out of his teens. "You're next."
As soon as House entered Exam Room Three, he placed his cane back by the door, then propelled himself back to his chair on his crutches. Once seated, he drew his bottle of Vicodin from his pocket, and slid a pill into his palm. "So, what's the problem?" he asked as the young man.
"Well," came the reply, "I'm a performer in the Cirque du Soleil, Andre Orosz. I perform the Lotus Dance."
House held the pill between two of his fingertips before downing it. "Sounds familiar… Lemme guess, joint pain?"
"Yeah. Now I can't even double over backwards."
- Exam Room Two>- "I got this weird flaky rash on my back. A couple-a days ago my back an' shoulders hurt, an' they were real sensitive. Now, I didn't think anything of it, an' then my skin started peeling off in sheets. So I came here right away."
James Wilson frowned. "Have you been outside for extended periods of time?"
"Yeah, I'm a construction worker. Six hours a day, rain or shine."
"Could you please take off your shirt?" The man obliged, and turned around, so that Wilson could see his back.
"It's bad, isn't it…"
Wilson laughed out loud as he realized that the 'rash' was only present in the spots where the man's skin hadn't been covered by his tank-top. "True, you've got a bad case of sunburn. You'll be all right. It heals fast."
"But I wear suntan lotion!"
"Try a higher SPF… Wait, could you tell me if there's any history of skin cancer in your family?"
The man frowned. "Uh-huh, my uncle on my father's side, and my mother had lung cancer."
"Hmm… I'm a little concerned by the severity of your reaction. I've got a friend who's a dermatologist, and I'm going to refer you to him, okay?" Wilson handed a slip of paper to the man. He'd contact Dr. Shouco later, and make sure the patient didn't have a malignant melanoma.
Following the patient to the door, he poked his head out, and blinked. There were considerably less patients than there had been last time he checked. It had been one hour since the beginning of the race to diagnose the entire clinic, and he had diagnosed five patients. If he kept going at this pace, he'd diagnose his goal of eleven patients even before the time limit expired. And a certain friend of his in the Cardiology Department would owe him three hundred dollars.
He beckoned to a nervous looking teenager wearing a garish, floppy-brimmed hat. "Excuse me, Alex Russett?"
The boy nodded, and followed Wilson back into the exam room.
"That's an interesting hat. I'm guessing you're using it to hide the problem. Is that right?"
His face reddening in obvious embarrassment, the boy nodded again. "Uh… I… You won't…"
"Don't worry. Whatever it is, I won't laugh."
Alex slowly reached up and removed the hat. He had shoulder-length, platinum-blonde hair, and it was literally falling out in clumps.
"Oh, that's not too bad." Wilson leaned over, and inspected the boy's head. The hairs themselves were dry, brittle, and splitting at the ends, while the scalp was red and irritated. "Have you had any chemotherapy?"
"No."
"Prescription or nonprescription medicines?"
"No."
"Do you bleach your hair?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Okay, how often?"
"Once, sometimes twice a week."
"Whoa." Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You shouldn't do it that often. The chemicals in the bleach eat away at the hair and strip it of its pigment, damaging its structure. These chemicals also get on your scalp. If you bleach too often, you chemically burn the skin. This kills the roots, which explains why your hair is falling out. If you leave your hair alone, it should recover on its own. But it's going to look a little strange until it grows back. It might be a good idea to shave your head, or, if you want to stand out, get a mohawk."
"So I'm not gonna be bald?"
"Probably not at your age."
"Sweet. Thanks!"
Wilson watched the kid leave before preparing for his next patient.
- Exam Room One>- Foreman watched the man and his twelve year-old daughter enter the exam room. The girl sat down on the exam bench. Her father remained standing. "I'm Mr. Zuplos, and this is my daughter, Katie."
"Hi. I'm Dr. Foreman."
"Nice to meet you."
"So what's wrong?"
"Katie's been getting intense headaches, and feeling dizzy."
"Does she have any allergies that you know of?"
"Luckily, not yet."
"Any trauma? Concussions?"
"No."
Foreman turned to Katie. "Is there anything that you might be worried about? Anything that you're not looking forwards to?"
"Uh-huh. In science class, we're having this really big test. If I fail, I'm not gonna pass the term."
"Then your migraine might be stress-induced."
"But it doesn't always happen when…" the girl trailed off, looking up as a flicker in the florescent light caught her eye.
Foreman followed her gaze. "Is that bulb distracting you? I can get it replaced-" Looking back to her, he noticed a glassy look in her eyes. "Katherine? Are you all right?"
Without warning, the girl emitted a strangled gasp, and fell back onto the bench, every muscle in her body taut. Her back arched, and she sucked in a few choking breaths as her rigid body began to quiver.
Foreman glanced up at the father. "She's seizing!" Then he turned towards the open door. "I need some help in here!"
Mr. Zuplos stared at his daughter with a mixture of fear and shock in his eyes. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Help me get her on her side!" Together, they rolled Katherine's convulsing body over.
A few nurses rushed in.
"Get me ten cc's of diazepam. Stat!" Someone handed Foreman a hypodermic needle, and he plunged it into the girl's arm. The liquid traveled into her arm, up through the vein, and into the girl's system, where it began to take quick effect. After a frantic minute, her limbs stopped their violent jerking. Foreman sighed, and turned to the father. This could take a while.
Author's Note- Whoa. Gomen nosai! I haven't updated in so long! (or at least that's how it seems!) I have been doinga lot of research for this story, so it takes a while to finish a chapter. And the clinic patients! The ideas I had for some of them! Some of the cases were just too impossible. But prepare to see a few more in the next chapter before House reaches the four-hour time limit. And the next chapter isn't just going to be clinic duty, either. One more little tidbit-
Gamecubes, confusion, and junk food!
Thanks to: sxhlbchiragodemn, your local dealer, Pentium, StormyWolfBowler, and moo333 for the reviews!