Green Meat Doesn't Mean Vegetarian
Visiting hours started at eleven. When Blythe House walked into her son's room, she noted the breakfast tray was still there, untouched. Greg looked like he was resting with his arm dramatically draped over his eyes in the epitome of the 'oh woe is me' pose. She tried to remain quiet, taking a seat at his bedside. Out of her purse she withdrew a sudoku puzzle book and pen.
"What's the point of visiting if you're going to ignore the patient?"
Blythe was startled. "I thought you were asleep."
"I've been dozing on and off. Kind of hard to get any shut eye when someone pops in here at least once an hour to poke me."
She stood so they could see each other. "How are you feeling?" Obviously a bad choice of words as he rolled his eyes. "God forbid a mother should want to know. And don't lie to me. These monitors are as good as a lie detector."
"Tired. Sore. Cranky. You know…the usual." He left his arm over his brow as it was a comfortable position.
"You didn't eat. Not hungry?"
"No appetite. At least not for that crap."
She put the cover over the congealed goop. Not very appetizing, is it?" The table was moved away. "Lunch should be here soon."
"More glop."
"You have to eat something."
"Does Domino's deliver to hospitals?"
"Probably. But you need something more nutritious."
"Oh yea, cause commercial grade slop is primo good for ya."
"Greg-"
"Really mom, do you think ground green meat with stems and leaf parts mashed into it, reconstituted imitation potato flakes and canned peas that are less green than the meat is a nutritious meal?"
"Somebody does," Blythe smirked. "If lunch isn't the least bit appealing, I'll get you something suitable." She continued to fuss over him, tucking in the blankets and straightening the objects on the bedside table.
"This is why you didn't need to come."
Blythe was stunned by his comment, forgetting he had a biting sarcasm that sometimes stung. "You don't want me here?"
"That's not what I said. I'm going to lay here doing nothing; needing nothing. You'll be bored."
"That's my choice to make. Sometimes just being in the room is a comfort." Blythe took her son's hint and left him alone. She returned to her seat and her puzzle book.
Lunch arrived. It was green in all the wrong places. House's mom went to the cafeteria in search of his favorites. In her absence, Greg had another visitor.
About twenty-five helium filled balloons arrived, each one a different color. The bouquet obstructed the delivery person. All she heard was: "What the hell?"
"Delivery for Greg House." Cindy disguised her voice.
"Wrong room."
"Oh, I know this is the right room. Somebody needs some cheering up."
"Wrong Greg House."
"Nice try," Cindy gave up, tying the balloons to the bedside chair arm.
"I hate balloons," he said glumly.
"I figured as much."
"Then why in the hell-"
Cindy produced an overly large sized safety pin from her pocket. "That's why I brought this!"
He began laughing. At first it was the contagious chuckled that didn't stop. Soon it turned into a belly whopper that left him coughing and breathless. If laughter was supposed to be the best medicine, then why did it hurt so much? The hilarity and subsequent jerking coughs jarred his muscles all the way to his toes. As quickly as the laughter started, it was replaced by a grimace and moaning.
"Take a deep breath," Cindy coached. "Don't forget to ex-"
Greg blew out his air forcefully.
"Evenly."
He panted a few times like a woman in labor before taking a few proper deep breaths. The pain was subsiding. For now.
"Do you want to be medicated?"
He shook his head negatively, still trying to regulate his heart rate.
"Crisis averted." She watched the monitors for a few minutes. "No laughing without proper supervision."
"Don't worry, I won't be doing that again."
"Good. Moving on to other issues."
"No thanks."
"Not hungry?" She looked at his tray. "Eww."
"Mom's hunting down something less green."
"That could be dangerous."
"Why?"
"This time of year, the grass is less green."
Greg moaned. She wasn't sure why.
"I'm not feeling up to much company today. In an hour or so they'll start dialysis. I'll probably sleep through it."
"Oh-kay." It was a little disconcerting since she took off from work to be with him, but if he didn't want her there, she wouldn't force herself on him. "Do you need or want anything for next time?"
"I'm good."
She placed the safety pin on the bedside table before leaving.
"Is this how you say good-bye," he called after her.
"See ya," she looked over her shoulder at him briefly.
Blythe passed her in the hall on her way back to Greg's room. She entered, setting down a Styrofoam container in front of him. "You two have a fight?"
"Huh?" obviously he was distracted, "No."
"That was a short visit."
"I guess it was." He continued to seem lost in thought until he remembered she brought food.
"I saw James in the cafeteria. He said he'd be up to see you at the end of his shift."
"Hopefully I'll be asleep by then."
"That's not nice. James is a good friend. You shouldn't treat him so poorly."
House finally made eye contact with his mother. "That's not what I meant. I've got four to five hours of bloodletting coming up. I plan to sleep through it, and I'll be tired afterward."
"Oh." A squeamish look crossed his mom's face.
"You don't have to be here for that. In fact, I rather you weren't." It wasn't as harsh as he usually sounded, but it wasn't polite either.
Fortunately Blythe had a good grasp on her son's personality. "Alright. I'll find something to do with myself for a couple of hours."
"I have an idea," Greg said smirking.
"If it involves cleaning your apartment, you're shit out of luck."
He wanted to laugh but remembered what happened the last time. "No. Nothing like that. I can arrange it with Cuddy for you to spend some time 'grandma-ing' in the nursery, or helping keep track of the demons in pediatrics."
Blythe was beaming. Her son may never father a grandchild for her, but he knew what she yearned for. The grandmotherly instinct was definitely present. "That's a good idea."