Post by Slagathor on Feb 25, 2009 12:36:48 GMT
Doctor in the House - Part 1
The Doctor sat amused by some human dramatic foible on the soap opera he was watching. He ignored the woman who entered and who would eventually interrupt his entertainment.
“I have a case for you,” said Doctor Lisa Cuddy, Chief Administrator of Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital.
“Not interested,” Doctor Gregory House answered, without even turning away from the plasma screen television on his wall.
“You will be. I’ve distributed the file to your team.”
“Isn’t that against procedure?”
“What was I thinking? You being such a stickler for protocol,” she answered with light sarcasm. “This one might actually be the one.”
“OK, I’ll bite,” House responded patronizingly, acknowledging the obvious bait, hoping to facilitate Cuddy departure, so he could get back to his soap opera. “The one what?”
“The one that stumps you.” House responded with rolled eyes, mocking Cuddy’s weak attempt to goad him, but then his expression changed.
“You willing to make a wager on that?”
“Betting on a diagnosis would be unethical,” warned Cuddy.
“True, but betting that I can make a diagnosis would merely put us in a grey area. And you know grey is my favorite color.”
“OK, come up with a definitive diagnosis, you get out of a week of clinic duty. But if you don’t, you add six hours a week for the next month.”
One week versus one month, that doesn’t seem very even.
“You’re six months behind in your clinic hours, so don’t talk about even.” Cuddy turned and walked out of House’s office.
****************************************************
House went next door to his team’s conference room. Doctors Kutner, Taub, and “Thirteen” were waiting, reviewing the files. Two former members of his team, Cameron and Foreman, were also there.
“What are you two doing here?” House asked. “Reverse slumming?”
“It’s relevant to your new case.”
“Oh, that old excuse,” House answered mockingly, as he hobbled to the coffee machine. “OK, what do we know?”
“Early this morning, the Princeton Police found a man lying in the snow. When they brought him here he was hypothermic. He regained consciousness, but was mentally altered.
“He claimed he had an urgent meeting with Albert Einstein.” Kutner interjected.
“Did he also claim to be Neils Bohr?” House asked mockingly.
“I was on duty when they brought him in,” Cameron explained. “His body temp was around 68”
“That’ll teach him to catnap in the snow. I think Cuddy needs to reevaluate the meaning of the word ‘interesting’. House frowned at his coffee.
“Here’s the interesting part,” Foreman continued. “When we tried to warm him up with hot water blankets, he lost consciousness.
“Maybe he was just tired.”
“You mean he was conscious with a body temperature of 68 degrees?” Taub asked incredulously.
“Yes. Babbling, but conscious,” Cameron answered.
.
“Sort of like certain members of my team,” House snapped. “OK, it’s slightly interesting. What about the blood work?”
“The lab screwed up all the blood tests. All the results were too bizarre.”
“Reaching new levels of incompetence? I thought that was your job.”
“The lab’s running a new set.”
“Let’s see the old ones anyway,” House insisted, grabbing the lab report.
“If these are even near true, this man would be dead, or a newt.”
“That’s why the lab’s running a new set.”
“What’s the patient’s temperature now?”
“Around 75 degrees, nowhere near 98.6.”
“Hmm, usually one has to die to assume room temperature,” House quipped.
“It could be Reynaud’s Syndrome,” suggested Kutner.
“No, Reynaud’s affects the extremities. Plus, people with Reynaud’s respond positively to being warmed up.
“Take an X-ray.”
“Why? He has no obvious trauma. It’s probably metabolic,” Kutner suggested.
“Probably”
****************************************************
After getting the second set of blood tests and the X-rays back, Foreman barged into Cuddy’s office. She was used to House barging in, but Foreman was usually more tactful.
“Why has this hospital turned into a bastion of incompetence?” demanded Foreman.
“I beg your pardon?” snapped Doctor Cuddy.
“Two sets of screwed up labs, and now X-rays!”
House quietly slipped into Cuddy’s office, but not unnoticed by Cuddy herself.
“House! What are you trying to do?”
“Oh, the usual, just trying to save humanity, and get out of additional clinic hours.”
“Our technicians can’t be as incompetent as Foreman’s saying.”
“Oh, yes they can. Just not today."
“The x-ray technician double-exposed the film. It looks like he has two hearts,” Foreman explained. House pondered the x-ray.
“There was a John Doe patient in San Francisco in 1999. A Doctor Halloway claimed she had a patient with two hearts. Or at least that’s what the X-ray showed. This patient actually has two hearts.”
“How is that possible?” Cuddy exclaimed.
“An unusual mutation?” Foreman ventured. “Maybe it’s the same man.”
“No, the man supposedly died on the operating table.”
“Supposedly?” asked Cuddy.
“The body disappeared from the morgue before an autopsy could be performed,” House grinned. “Ghoulish, eh?”
“Again, maybe it’s the same man,” Foreman repeated. “How many two-hearted men can be walking around?”
“At least two. I think it’s time I met Mr. Room Temperature."
The Doctor sat amused by some human dramatic foible on the soap opera he was watching. He ignored the woman who entered and who would eventually interrupt his entertainment.
“I have a case for you,” said Doctor Lisa Cuddy, Chief Administrator of Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital.
“Not interested,” Doctor Gregory House answered, without even turning away from the plasma screen television on his wall.
“You will be. I’ve distributed the file to your team.”
“Isn’t that against procedure?”
“What was I thinking? You being such a stickler for protocol,” she answered with light sarcasm. “This one might actually be the one.”
“OK, I’ll bite,” House responded patronizingly, acknowledging the obvious bait, hoping to facilitate Cuddy departure, so he could get back to his soap opera. “The one what?”
“The one that stumps you.” House responded with rolled eyes, mocking Cuddy’s weak attempt to goad him, but then his expression changed.
“You willing to make a wager on that?”
“Betting on a diagnosis would be unethical,” warned Cuddy.
“True, but betting that I can make a diagnosis would merely put us in a grey area. And you know grey is my favorite color.”
“OK, come up with a definitive diagnosis, you get out of a week of clinic duty. But if you don’t, you add six hours a week for the next month.”
One week versus one month, that doesn’t seem very even.
“You’re six months behind in your clinic hours, so don’t talk about even.” Cuddy turned and walked out of House’s office.
****************************************************
House went next door to his team’s conference room. Doctors Kutner, Taub, and “Thirteen” were waiting, reviewing the files. Two former members of his team, Cameron and Foreman, were also there.
“What are you two doing here?” House asked. “Reverse slumming?”
“It’s relevant to your new case.”
“Oh, that old excuse,” House answered mockingly, as he hobbled to the coffee machine. “OK, what do we know?”
“Early this morning, the Princeton Police found a man lying in the snow. When they brought him here he was hypothermic. He regained consciousness, but was mentally altered.
“He claimed he had an urgent meeting with Albert Einstein.” Kutner interjected.
“Did he also claim to be Neils Bohr?” House asked mockingly.
“I was on duty when they brought him in,” Cameron explained. “His body temp was around 68”
“That’ll teach him to catnap in the snow. I think Cuddy needs to reevaluate the meaning of the word ‘interesting’. House frowned at his coffee.
“Here’s the interesting part,” Foreman continued. “When we tried to warm him up with hot water blankets, he lost consciousness.
“Maybe he was just tired.”
“You mean he was conscious with a body temperature of 68 degrees?” Taub asked incredulously.
“Yes. Babbling, but conscious,” Cameron answered.
.
“Sort of like certain members of my team,” House snapped. “OK, it’s slightly interesting. What about the blood work?”
“The lab screwed up all the blood tests. All the results were too bizarre.”
“Reaching new levels of incompetence? I thought that was your job.”
“The lab’s running a new set.”
“Let’s see the old ones anyway,” House insisted, grabbing the lab report.
“If these are even near true, this man would be dead, or a newt.”
“That’s why the lab’s running a new set.”
“What’s the patient’s temperature now?”
“Around 75 degrees, nowhere near 98.6.”
“Hmm, usually one has to die to assume room temperature,” House quipped.
“It could be Reynaud’s Syndrome,” suggested Kutner.
“No, Reynaud’s affects the extremities. Plus, people with Reynaud’s respond positively to being warmed up.
“Take an X-ray.”
“Why? He has no obvious trauma. It’s probably metabolic,” Kutner suggested.
“Probably”
****************************************************
After getting the second set of blood tests and the X-rays back, Foreman barged into Cuddy’s office. She was used to House barging in, but Foreman was usually more tactful.
“Why has this hospital turned into a bastion of incompetence?” demanded Foreman.
“I beg your pardon?” snapped Doctor Cuddy.
“Two sets of screwed up labs, and now X-rays!”
House quietly slipped into Cuddy’s office, but not unnoticed by Cuddy herself.
“House! What are you trying to do?”
“Oh, the usual, just trying to save humanity, and get out of additional clinic hours.”
“Our technicians can’t be as incompetent as Foreman’s saying.”
“Oh, yes they can. Just not today."
“The x-ray technician double-exposed the film. It looks like he has two hearts,” Foreman explained. House pondered the x-ray.
“There was a John Doe patient in San Francisco in 1999. A Doctor Halloway claimed she had a patient with two hearts. Or at least that’s what the X-ray showed. This patient actually has two hearts.”
“How is that possible?” Cuddy exclaimed.
“An unusual mutation?” Foreman ventured. “Maybe it’s the same man.”
“No, the man supposedly died on the operating table.”
“Supposedly?” asked Cuddy.
“The body disappeared from the morgue before an autopsy could be performed,” House grinned. “Ghoulish, eh?”
“Again, maybe it’s the same man,” Foreman repeated. “How many two-hearted men can be walking around?”
“At least two. I think it’s time I met Mr. Room Temperature."