Chapter 10
"And If it was a bowel obstruction?".
"Prove it".
He closes the glass door abruptly, pulling down the curtains, recovering the stereo headphones and sitting down.
'They'll be good on their own...'.
He didn't care, that case was boring and trivial, but above all it hadn't allowed him to decrease his dose of Vicodin. Ergo, it wasn't up to him.
He retrieves the most important thing in his office, his gray and red ball. It wasn't a gift of childhood or the memory of an old friend, it's just his, exclusively his, but the important thing is that it has become the most important thing in a moment where nothing felt like his.
He had been discharged for 2 days from the hospital after the surgery and the only visits he had received had been (except the suffocating presence of Lisa): his parents "You'll get better", "You'll overcome it with time"; and his very comforting boss "You should find a psychologist".
No one had ever found the right words with him, long before the leg.
If the fate of a man is drowning, he will drown in a glass of water...an old Yiddish proverb said.
So, logically, If it was his destiny to be a cripple forever, he'd become a cripple forver, it could have happened even coming out of the shower...
But he found all this thing a bit more complicated than that.
His failure in his marriage was certainly the most striking thing for everyone (but note well: his not their, because honestly, the fault of Lisa was perhaps the 30% or 40% at most). He had ignored, attacked, betrayed (several times), hated and, it hurt to admit it, even humiliated her in the end.
He closes his eyes suddenly, he's tired and wants to go home. He switches off the light in the office and is out.
"It's not an occlusion".
He sighs agitated, because thanks to the report of his Virologist, Jeremy Russell, he'll end up spending the night to explore alternative intestinal obstructions as a cause of kidney failure, and other fantastic symptoms that he doesn't want to think about after eating a Rubens without pickles .
"Call me only If anything changes".
"But House!".
He surpasses him out in the hallway, slipping on his headphones "I know I'm an eccentric bastard boss, but I'm sleepy and my head is already at home".
"So when you leave, we can do the same?".
He turns to the blonde leaning against the door, his Cardiologist, he had planned to sleep with her but before he had ended to think about it, his boss had "strongly" recommended the contrary.
"Sure Lawn, but I'm sure that Russell and Blake will stop you".
Blake was standing next to the door half smiling, adjusting his glasses, pretty useless in conversations, but with test tubes and microscope he was a master, the classic lab rat, and he used him like that.
House shrugs and calls the elevator "Be good and don't start a fire".
Lawn smiles "Be good and don't call the Police for us".
He rolls his eyes and pushes play.
'You're forty-eight...bad luck'.
He looks in the mirror one last time as the water warms up in the shower, he snorts.
"Boring...".
He leaves his watch on the sink, throws his blue t-shirt on the ground, opens his jeans that abandons on the same spot soon after, slips off his boxers, grabs the bottle of Vicodin and enters the shower. He puts himself under the running water, savoring the feeling of the Vicodin under the tongue and the hot water on the forehead, a Paradise...
He closes his eyes, puts his hands to the tiles and let the water flow on him, wetting his hair and then down along his back; similarly he feels the Vicodin in his veins rapidly.
He smiles.
He leans his forehead against the cool tile and the contact is almost pleasant, as the absence of pain in the thigh. And then no noise around, only water and a unique feeling, the one of the water on his back. All that absence of anything else is healing.
He smiles again.
'Thank goodness there is the Vicodin...'.
He opens his eyes and looks at the orange bottle in front of him, closes the water. He grabs it and leans back, without that bottle the only thing he had to pull the plug was the shower, the scotch and the sex; combined together they made a beautiful combination.
He blinks a couple of times and then snorts.
Thinking that the free ride was to last only a couple of months, the irony of fate...
*Flashback*
He rubs his hand over the fabric of the jeans while swallowing, they look into their eyes, the man with the white coat across the desk sighs, then looks down for a moment. He talks to both, but he's looking at her, smiling.
"Hydrocodone, a pill every 6 hours, for 2 months".
He sighs relieved, he thought he'd have given him some stupid palliative such as Acetaminophen, Aspirin and Ibuprofen.
"A moment Richard, hydro-what?".
Richard looks at House and he snorts, turning to his right "Lisa, it's a pain reliever, that's all".
She smiles agitated, doesn't seem too convinced, she doesn't always understand when he lies, but she knows when he doesn't say something important, and that is the prior step to a lie.
"Yes, but If it chases away the pain, why they didn't give it to you before?".
Again, an exchange of glances between the two doctors. She looks annoyed at her husband who raises his hands.
"What, you want a lesson on painkillers?".
"No, Greg, I just want to understand why you've never taken it since it's so useful".
Richard Roth (it's curious how the 90% of the doctors, or the doctors' children, have the same initials as name and last name or the name of their fathers; in this case both) smiles, turning to Lisa, ignoring his coworker who snorts, sitting down "Hydrocodone is the most powerful painkiller on the market, it's the only drug that is able to totally relieve the pain..." he stops for a few moments, then smiles again "But it's prescribed only for chronic pain or post-surgery patients, we waited to prescribe it to Greg because I thought that physiotherapy would have run its course...".
She doesn't seem convinced, she turns to her husband, who rolls his eyes, and then looks back at Richard "Side effects?".
"Oh Lord Lisa! But what do you care ? ! They are my side effects!".
"I'm sorry If I worry about you!".
He shrugs, his eyes widening, he doesn't even look at her "No, please, do it...".
Roth clears his throat, then looks back at her "There are side effects such as...allergic reactions, difficulty breathing, seizures...".
"Seizures? !".
House puts his hands in his hair before hitting the desk with his fist "For Christ's sake, Richard, shut up? ! Why don't you tell her that I can go in overdose too? !".
Lisa turns to him immediately "What? !".
"Yeah, If you take 40 pills it's likely that you'd have an overdose, but that can happen even If you take 40 sleeping pills! ?" he tries to calm down, crunching his knuckles against his knees "But since the prescription period is of just 1 pill every 6 hours, there is no problem! Happy now?".
"No!".
"Oh Lord...".
Lisa looks back at the doctor that If he keeps that smile on his face, he'll get a punch from his supposed friend.
"I haven't understood anything about this didro...".
"Come on Richard, give her a lesson from the beginning, tell her all you know!".
Richard swallows and then holds his pen to its extremes, as If in that way, the patient could understand more easily the meaning of the terms "Well, Hydrocodone is most known with the name Vicodin. It's a semi-synthetic drug derived from two natural opioids: codeine and thebaine".
"Opioids? !".
"Yes, I'll end up like Sherlock Holmes! Tell her about the antitussigen action too!".
She turns to him irritated "Greg, it's not funny".
"Really?".
Richard tries to stay calm, still smiling "Please, House, give me a couple of minutes. It's right that Lisa knows what it is and why we chose it". House raises his arms in surrender.
"Ok. Therefore, it's a derivative of two opioids and it's precisely that why it can eliminate the pain; If it's taken in doses higher than recommended, the drug sends in crisis the muscles physically and psychologically, causing also addiction and withdrawal syndromes after the termination of assumption. It also increases the reflexes and the speed of action...This is pretty much everything, but Greg won't run this risk".
"And as for the side effects?". The doctor gives a look at House and she notices it. "Richard, don't look at him. Look at me".
"Ok...In addition to the ones I've already listed...But you must understand that it's only a general frame. Statistics have shown that most of these reactions occur only after a prolonged intake, when it comes to addiction; but this is not the case. His prescription is only for 2 months". She was still waiting, smiling at him. He sighs "Severe fatigue, tinnitus, jaundice, burning, antimuscarinic effects, nausea, vomiting, constipation".
House grins.
"Decreased libido, it has depressant effects on the central nervous system; euphoria, drowsiness and decreased heart rate are the reasons why they're used even in the absence of real clinical needs. Sometimes because of the addiction of FANS at the pharmaceutical preparations, you may experience other side effects such as stomach ulcers, hepatitis and liver failure. Oh, I forgot, If taken together with alcohol, it potentiates the sedative effects on the central nervous system and causes drowsiness. Are you satisfied, Lisa?".
She sighs resignedly, smiles at Richard who gives House the prescription. But he holds it in his hand when he reaches out to take it "Only for 2 months, House, with the right physical therapy".
House rolls his eyes, bored "Yes, I know".
He forced her to stop in the middle of the parking lot, putting his hands on the wheels of the wheelchair.
"Greg, what's wrong?".
He moves the wheelchair towards her, twists his mouth and then looks at her "I'm on a wheelchair, until a month ago I was jogging through the park, physiotherapy had to help me to do it again, but physiotherapy put me on a wheelchair. The Vicodin helps me to go jogging".
Lisa sighs, tormenting her purse in her hands "And what If you're wrong?".
He laughs and opens his arms to her "Come on, Lisa! I'm Gregory House, how many times have you heard from one of my pompous coworkers that I was wrong about a diagnosis during the parties that you organize?".
"This is not any patient, it's you".
"In fact, so much better! Who knows me better than me? Me and my body have been living together for 40 years, I think I have a good relationship with it". She relaxes, but it was not what he wanted from her "And then, I don't think that your decisions have brought excellent results, so...I'll do it If you agree or not, I don't need your permission" he starts to move the chair again "You needed mine..." he knows that she's astonished "Happy?".
"Le'ts go home" she surpasses him, opening the car with the remote. He sighs, hates when she succeeds so well on making him feel guilty...He closes his eyes "Lisa, wait".
He reaches her quickly, the wheels of his chair slam against the car. He stands up, slowly, trembling. He leans against the car, smiling at her "It's that...I can't sleep, my leg hurts...I have nothing against you".
He looks at her in that strange way, with that half bastard smile and that expression, given by those 10 centimeters of difference, his eyes (too) blue, the nonchalance with which he leans against the car, not knowing of being indecently charming with that beard. She nods briefly, turning to open the door.
He grabs her wrist, wait for her to look at him, twists his mouth. He takes her face in his hands, capturing her lips. Put his forehead against hers for a moment, sighs, turns away, clears his throat but doesn't look at her.
"It will get better...".
She smiles, perhaps she hopes it more than him.
*End Flashback*
Too hope, there was so much more behind that sentence, not just the leg, too much hope.
He remembers that she had showed him a forced smile, bit the bullet and the trip was made in silence.
He also remembers the smile relaxed and happy, three days later, when he had walked for all day. He'd prefer not to remember it, he hates illusions. Especially those that last one week.
He crunches his back and gets out of the shower, he's sleepy.
He limps over to the bed, throws the cane somewhere and then lies down in the middle of it, looking at the ceiling; he still feels the water on him and it's enjoyable, especially still having the Vicodin in his veins.
But the effect of the Vicodin will end before he dries.
He waves his right hand with the bottle, friendly and faithful sound, and opens it.
Looks at the pale blue pill, between his thumb and index finger...
"1 every 6 hours, for 2 months..." he throws it in the air and swallows it "Useless...".
TBC...