Chapter 21

Favors

Over the next few days, Foreman kept harassing House, "Hey, you said you'd get me an audience with the Queen."

"So I lied, get over it."

"Someone must have got spanked. What, didn't Palmer appreciate the new, improved House?"

House stared at him for a minute and then realized that the best time to ask Kenna for a favor would be right now when she was probably feeling sheepish about the other day. House dialed the extension to the operator and she connected him to Kenna.

"Dr. Palmer."

"Dr. House here."

"Yes?"

"One of my fellows is a neurologist, Eric Foreman. He wants to come up and sniff your butt, have you got time to talk to him? He's actually pretty good at what he does."

"Oh Jesus Greg, I'm so busy." There was a long pause, "I tell you what, ask him if he wants to scrub in tomorrow on an experimental surgical treatment for Parkinson's?"

House looked up at Foreman who was pretty pissed off at House for the sniffing butt comment and asked him, "Do you want to scrub in tomorrow on an experimental treatment for Parkinson's?"

Foreman's eyes grew as big as the huge grin on his face, "What time?"

"Yeah, he wants to know what color of shoe polish he should bring, boss-lady and if you want him to tap dance or do hip-hop. What time?"

"You know, if it was anyone else asking me I'd say no." She said it in a very somber voice, "You know I'm doing this out of guilt don't you?"

"Why do you think I'm asking you now? I knew you'd be kicking yourself." He chuckled and said softly, "Hey, you didn't take a chunk out of my thigh. What have you got to feel guilty about?"

There was a silent pause. "6:30 in the morning. If he isn't there by then tell them not to bother coming."

House told Foreman to be there at 6:30 in the morning sharp. Foreman was almost jumping up and down and House realized he could have told him to be there by 3:30 in the morning and he would have been. Foreman gave House a look of appreciation and with great sincerity said, "House, thanks. I mean it, thanks. I'm going to be able to put down on my resume that I performed surgery with Kenna Palmer. That and my stint with you will just about write my ticket anywhere I want to go after this." He looked out into space and said more to himself than the others, "But I'm going to stay here, see if I can't get on her team."

Sometimes Foreman's ambitions were just a little too much to take. House waved his hand at him to get out. "Blah, blah, blah, blah, go do your work."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

I'm usually very picky about who I let scrub in with me. It typically takes months for me to make a decision on whether or not a doctor should be allowed in the OR while I'm performing surgery, especially experimental surgery. I don't know why I caved so quickly. I would've said no to anyone else. This guy better be good.

Being in the same room with House was incredibly difficult. I could see in his face that life had been hard for him. As much as I wanted to help him, I knew that once you give sympathy to Greg he takes advantage of it-just like he took advantage of my guilt over our first conversation and now I was stuck with this 'Foreman' guy. I knew he was doing it, he knew he was doing and I let him do it. But I also made sure that he knew I was on to him.

Luckily, I have so many research projects I'm working on that I don't have time to analyze my feelings. Princeton-Plainsboro was a teaching hospital attached to a med school. My research would be done both in the hospital and in the university's lab collaborating with my lab in Merida, Mexico. To get the work done, I increased my staff of researchers at the hospital's university's lab to eight and added two neurosurgeons at the hospital. Of course, they're all being funded by numerous grants that I have received. My pet project is the potential analgesic effects of GDF in neuropathic pain states and nerve growth. I had a plan that depended on the success of the experiments.

When I saw Dr. Foreman, I thought to myself that he looked reasonably bright. We were doing our scrub up and I asked him, "So, how long have you worked for Dr. House?"

"About seven years. I'm thinking of moving on though."

I knew that he was probably going to make a pitch to me to take him on staff, they all do. However, I figured if Greg hired and trained him, he was probably pretty good. I'd keep my eye on him and see how he performed.

Foreman looked at me and had the nerve to ask, "You actually lived with House?"

"Don't you think that's a little personal?" I retorted.

He started getting nervous, "I'm sorry, of course it is. I think that House is starting to rub off on me. I would've never asked that seven years ago."

We started through the doors of the O.R. and I turned to him and said, "I was 22 and just finishing my doctorate in Neuroengineering. If it hadn't been for Greg, I think I'd probably still be in some lab somewhere, working 9-to-5. Does that answer your question?"

He gave a quick nod and we put on our gloves and went to work. It was very interesting surgery. We were trying GDNF (glial cell line-derived neurotrophic factor) by introducing it directly to the brain. Many current theories of Parkinson's disease suggest that oxidative stress is involved in the neurodegenerative process. Potential neuroprotective agents could protect neurons through inherent antioxidant properties or through the upregulation of the brain's antioxidant defenses. Glial cell line-derived neurotrophic factor (GDNF) has been shown to protect and restore dopamine neurons in experimental models and to improve motor function in Parkinson's patients.

We were doing experimental surgery to actually plant GDNF seeds in the area of the brain that makes dopamine. It was exciting being on the cusp of a breakthrough. Eric Foreman held his own in the O.R. Half way through the surgery I looked up and saw House watching us. I smiled at him and continued.

When we were done, Eric was gushing, "That was incredible. Thank you Dr. Palmer." He started taking his gloves and gown off.

"You're welcomed," I looked up at House with a smirk, "If you're boss can spare you, I'll let you scrub in again sometime in the future."

"That would be great. Your work is so interesting. I've heard that you have several projects going, not just this one."

"I do. It's very time consuming."

"Do you ever go home?"

"Home, why would I want to go home? I don't even have a cat. No, this is pretty much my life. It's ok; someday I'll have a life." I said goodbye and took off. I had to get over to the university, there was a crisis in the lab, one of the lines of glial cells had died and we needed to know why. I arrived and was met by several long faced doctors and research assistants. Sherlock Holmes always said to rule out the obvious first so I asked if anyone knew if the line had been alive when they treated it? No one could say yes, so I traced it back to the refrigerator and found an entire shipment was dead. It turned out not to be that big of a deal. The line had died because of an unplugged refrigerator and not because something had gone wrong with the experiment. You know the more intelligent people are, the dumber they can be.