Disseminated
intravascular coagulation.Wilson: DIC.? Guy falls off a
roof, the first thought is it’s always a clotting problem
House: Trauma can activate the
clotting enzymes. Guy could loose more than his hand.
Cuddy: Thank you, very much. This
guy’s been working for me for a long time and I--
House [takes chart]: Do I get
bonus points if I act like I care?
[Cuddy just looks at him.]
House’s Office
[House enters, sucking on a
lollipop.]
House: Cervical MRI, work up for
DIC, and start him on a heparin drip
Cameron: Who?
House: You want to know his name?
[throws file down on the table] I’m sure it’s in the file.
[Cuddy enters.]
House: Or you could ask her. She’s
his oldest, bestest friend. They were in Cub Scouts together.
Cuddy: I’ll get started on the
blood tests.
House: You haven’t been a real
doctor in ten years, you’ll make a mess all over the sheet.
Foreman: I’ll do it.
Cuddy: You have clinic duty. I
still know how to handle a patient.
House: Get me blood. Lots of
blood.
[Cameron reads through Alfedro’s
chart and makes a face. The ducklings get up.]
House: They’re better. They’ve
showered.
Hallway.
[Cuddy is peering into Alfredo’s
room where Chase is taking blood. Stacy comes up behind her.]
Stacy: You don’t need to see him.
Cuddy: One-handed handyman aren’t
in big demand.
Stacy: Talking, that’s how law
suits are lost. I know you, Lisa, you go in, you offer to pay his medical
bills, his wages, you’ll say something stupid like I’m sorry—
Cuddy: You think I’m an idiot?
Stacy: I think you’re not a
lawyer. Don’t go in there. [puts a hand on Cuddy’s shoulder]. Trust me,
House’s people can handle this.
[Stacy walks away, Cuddy still
looks at the room.]
Cuddy [softly]: Yeah…
Alfredo’s Room
Chase: This might sting a little
bit. The medicine will thin and the blood and help it to circulate.
[Chase looks at Alfredo left
hand. There’s four scars, lines that look like four deep scratches.]
Chase: Those pretty nasty scars
there.
Alfredo: They were construction.
Alfredo winces in pain as Chase
injects him.
Alfredo: How long will I be in the
hospital?
Chase: Depends how long it takes
us to figure out what’s going on.
Alfredo: I need to work. I’ll get
fired.
Chase: I’m sure Dr. Cuddy won’t
fire you.
Alfredo: I’m janitor at fast food
six nights. I need to work. My mother doesn’t make enough.
Brother (Manny): I can work, I’m
old enough.
Alfredo: You’re old enough when
you finish college
Brother (Manny): Why? You never
went to—
Alfredo: I never had a big brother
to tell me to shut up!
Chase: I promise, we’ll let you
out of here as soon as we’re able to
Alfredo: Look, I…I am fine. [takes
pulse ox off, and reaches for the oxygen cannula]. I feel better.
Chase: No..
Alfredo: I go home now.
Chase: No, if this is a clotting
problem, it could be very serious. All right?
Alfredo: Can’t make me stay.
Alfredo takes to get up again. Chase
pushes him back down and Alfredo groans.
Alfredo: You can’t make me stay.
[Chase notices Alfredo’s right
hand.]
Chase: Turn your hand over. I
need to see your hand.
[Chase reaches for it. The last two
fingers are almost completely black and it’s spreading onto the middle finger.]
Alfredo: Where is Dr. Cuddy?
House’s office.
[House and Cuddy are there.]
Chase: We’re got a third finger
turning dark.
Cameron: His PTT is prolonged, the
fibrin split products are off, he’s not clotting properly. It looks like a
middle case of DIC.
House: Well, obviously not that
mild. This keeps up and his hand will literally be dead meat. His hand is
connected to his arm, his arm is connected to…I’m not sure, but I bet it’s
important.
Cuddy: All this from falling off
my roof…
House: Yeah, if only he’d fallen
on his head. Then he wouldn’t have any of these symptoms.
[Cuddy looks at him in disbelief.]
Cuddy: We need something stronger
than heparin. Human activated protein C.
House: Looks like Cuddy, same
cleavage. Protein C is indicated only for severe sepsis.
Cuddy: Well, how many of his limbs
have to be at stake, for it to be severe?
House: But this stuff is crazy
dangerous. It can cause internal bleeding. If he bleeds, he could stroke, he
could die.
Cuddy: He could get better.
House: You know, if I tried a
scheme like this, you’d give me that nasty, wrinkly face and screech like a
hyena. [House approached Cuddy until he is barely a foot away.] It’s very sexy,
I admit.
[Cuddy is speechless a second
before she starts to walk away.]
Cuddy: Do it.
Hallway.
[House and Wilson step out of the
elevator.]
House: Protein C is border-line
irresponsible. ‘Cept that the safe stuff isn’t doing squat.
Wilson: This is exactly the type
of thing you would do.
House: Well, obviously.
Cuddy’s office.
Stacy: It’s actually the type of
thing he’d do.
Cuddy: I know. I think he’s
trying to protect me.
Stacy: Now that’s not the type of
thing he would do.
Cuddy: I overruled him. He’s the
best diagnostician in this hospital, and I overrule him.
[Stacy and Cuddy sit.]
Stacy: You care about this kid.
You judgment should be worth more than his.
Cuddy: He also pointed out that I
haven’t been a real doctor in years.
Stacy: Now that sounds like him.
Hallway.
[House reaches into a jar filled
with lollipops at the nurse’s station.]
Wilson: You were just jerking
Cuddy around?
[House pulls out three lollipops.]
House: You seriously thought I
wanted to stop her?
Wilson: One thing Cuddy is not is
clueless.
House: No, first causality of this
case is her sense of humor.
Wilson: Weird, nothing funnier
than almost killing a guy.
Clinic.
[Foreman is treating an older
African-American man.]
Patient: I’m just having trouble
getting up those steps.
Foreman: When did you start
noticing?
Patient: Well, a week ago.
Foreman: Your blood pressure’s a
little high. I have something new that should help you out. Combines a
nitrate with a blood pressure pill. It’s targeted to African-Americans.
Patient: Targeted?
Foreman: Yeah, well, see we tend
to have nitric oxide deficiencies. The studies show this drug counteracts that
problem. It’s the first drug to—
Patient: What kind of studies you
talking about?
Foreman: What kind of studies are
there? They get some patients, they give ‘em some drugs…
Patient: Ah…I’ve had white people
lying to me for 60 years.
Foreman: You think this is a tan?
Patient: You think they tell you
everything?
Foreman: Trouble with us black
folk, we can’t tell the difference anymore between racism and everybody gets
screwed.
Patient: Yeah? Well how about
them cheap meningitis drugs they pawning off in Africa? Gonna tell me that
ain’t racism?
Foreman: That’s just greed. You
really want to screw whitie? Be one of the few black men to live long enough to
collect social security. [rips off a prescription slip]. Take the medicine.
[Patient takes the script.]
Alfredo’s room.
[Alfredo realizes he can’t feel
his arm.]
Alfredo: Nurse. Nurse! Help!
[Chase rushes in.]
Alfredo: Nurse! Help! Nurse!
Chase: What’s up?
Alfredo [very upset]: I can’t
move my arm. I can’t move my arm!
Chase: Take it easy, take it easy.
Cuddy’s office.
[Chase is talking to Cuddy.]
Chase: Protein C’s side effects
we were worried about? They happened.
Cuddy: Where was the bleed?
Chase: His brain. It’s causing
right side paralysis. I’ve stopped the treatment. And called a neurosurgeon.
OR.
[Surgeon is drilling into
Alfredo’s head. Cuddy is watching from the observation deck. Blood is pooling
out from the drilled hole.]
Alfredo’s room.
[Cameron is flashing a penlight
into Alfredo’s pupils. Alfredo lifts his right hand and waves it back and
forth slowly.]
Alfredo: I can move it now. It’s
okay now. Can I go home soon?
[Cameron lowers the penlight.]
Cameron: The surgery went well, but
all we did was fix the problem created by the medicine we gave you.
[Mother asks a question in
Spanish.]
Alfredo: She says you look
young. Are you sure you—
Cameron: There’s five of us
working on the case. [She smiles hesitantly] The others are older.
Alfredo: Why doesn’t Dr. Cuddy
come to --
[Alfredo starts coughing and
Cameron reaches for a glass of water. She hands it to him.]
Cameron: You don’t sound too
good.
[She reaches for her stethoscope.
Alfredo’s breathing is ragged.]
[CSI shot of his lungs. They are
bleeding.]
House’s office.
[Cuddy is studying an x-ray.]
Cameron: His fingers are even
darker, his temperature is 102 and spiking, and the x-ray now shows lung
infiltrates.
[House writes “lung infiltrates”
across the white board.]
House: The good news is he won’t
be bitching about losing his hand if he can’t breathe.
Cuddy: The trauma from the fall
could cause actuate respiratory distress syndrome.
House: Right, I forgot. Your
roof.
Cuddy: It would cause lung
infiltrates and maybe fever and conceivably the cyanotic fingers.
House: The only question is why?
[House shakes out a Vicodin and
takes it.]
Cameron: Why what?
House: Why her weird
psychopathology requires a diagnosis formed entirely by personal guilt. Let’s
assume we’ve been wrong up until now. Let’s assume, just for one second, that
the earth doesn’t revolve around Cuddy’s roof. What if he was sick before he
had his run-in with gravity? He just didn’t notice anything.
Foreman: Well, pneumonia can
cause DIC, which can cause cyanotic fingers.
Chase: Pneumonia doesn’t hit that
fast.
House: Sure, only pavement hits
that fast. It’s not pneumonia. Might have missed a finger turning dark, he’s
not going to miss breathing problems. What else?
Cuddy [looking at x-ray]: It’s
pneumonia. He wanted to go home. I thought he was lying. I told him I had a
dinner party. I made him go up there.
House: Well, why didn’t you just take
out a gun and shoot him?
Cuddy: I thought it was just
asthma.
House: Might have mentioned this
earlier, Doctor. Maybe we could have sent some blood cultures to the lab,
instead of wasting a day indulging your self-loathing.
Cameron: If it’s just
garden-variety bacterial pneumonia, he’s gonna be fine.
House: So give him garden-variety
Levaquin and a garden-variety echo-cardiogram. And go check out the kid’s
house.
Cuddy: The blood work will show
us which type of pneumonia it is, if—
House: If he’s huffing nail
polish, or pulling the wings off his pet parrot, this way will be faster. I
bet Julio is just dying to find out what’s wrong with him. [nods to Cameron].
Go with her.
Cuddy: It’s Alfredo. And I can
handle getting a key and—
House: Rico and I know longer
trust you deciding what’s important and what’s not.
[Cuddy stares a moment, then
leaves. Cameron shakes her head, and then follows.]
Foreman: You ever think about
writing a book on office politics?
House: Trust me. It would be a
lot worse if I told her you have to break into her house.
Chase: Wait, wait, wait. Cuddy’s
house?
House: See, it is shocking.
Guy’s been working there every day for the last three weeks. Do you think it’s
impossible that he could have picked something up?
Foreman: I’m not breaking into my
boss’s house.
House: I’m your boss.
Chase: She’s scarier than you
are.
House: Oh, she’s a woman. Relax,
I’m coming with.
Hallway.
[House, Chase, and Foreman step
out of the elevator. House is sucking on yet another lollipop. They pass
Wilson and Stacy.]
Stacy: House is having lunch with
his juniors now?
Wilson: No. Not a chance.
Stacy: Then where do you think
they’re going?
Wilson: I have no idea.
Stacy: Then why don’t you think
they’re going to lunch?
Wilson: Because it’s not like
House. That was your point, right?
Stacy: He had that smug look on
his face when he’s not pleased about something and he’s got to tell somebody
and the only somebody he knows is you.
Wilson [sighs]: He’s breaking
into Cuddy’s home.
Stacy: What? Why?
Wilson: Um, medical reasons?
Stacy: Why is he so curious about
Cuddy?
Wilson: Why are you so curious
about his curiosity?
Stacy: Why are you so curious
about me being—
Wilson: Because you dumped him.
And you’re married. And they are neither of those things.
Stacy: I’m just curious. Nothing
wrong with that.
Wilson: No, nothing wrong with
that.
Cuddy’s house, exterior.
[House, Foreman, and Chase walk up
to Cuddy’s front door.]
House: What do you think? Red
thongs? I think red thongs. ‘Kay…
[House takes out a credit card.]
House: Twenty bucks says I can
get through this door in twenty seconds.
Chase: You’re on.
Foreman: Count me in.
[Chase takes out his watch to time
House. House bends down, moves a planter, and finds key underneath it. House
grins and Chase and Foreman get out their wallets. House opens the door and
Chase and Foreman file in, each handing him a twenty.]
Alfredo’s home.
[Cuddy has a hall closet open.]
Cuddy: No furniture polish, no
paint thinner, nor anything else worth sniffing.
[Cuddy moves into the kitchen.]
Cameron [calling from another
room]: Nothing in here, either.
[Cameron comes out of a bedroom.]
Cameron: Except a few
cockroaches.
[Cameron steps on one with her
shoe.]
Cameron: Nice. [She looks up]
Someone should fix Alfredo’s roof. So why haven’t you fired House?
[Cuddy looks up from the fridge.]
Cameron: I mean, it’s just, you
guys are always screaming at each other and I figure you hate him—
Cuddy [quick to respond]: I don’t
hate him.
Cameron: Why not?
[Cuddy just looks at her.]
Cameron: He’s a great doctor, but
any other hospital administrator would have fired him years ago.
[Cuddy moves to look under the
kitchen sink.]
Cuddy: Four of them did. The
question is why did I hire him?
Cuddy’s house.
Foreman: So how did you know
about her key? You been doing a little handyman work for Cuddy yourself?
[Foreman walks into the kitchen,
where House is examining the contents under the kitchen sink.]
House: Someone as obsessive and
insecure as Cuddy probably has three extra keys hidden within ten feet of the
door.
Foreman: Oh, and you consider
obsession a negative quality?
House: Insecticide is organic,
soap is hypoallergenic.
[House closes the cabinet.]
House: I got the bedroom.
Cuddy’s bedroom.
[House enters and studies the
bed.]
House: This is where it all
happens.
[House turns and launches his butt
onto the bed.]
Alfredo’s house. Bedroom.
[Cameron and Cuddy enter from the
hall.]
Cameron: You both went to
Michigan. Did you know him while you were there.
Cuddy: Ah, I was still an
undergrad, but yeah, I knew him. He was already a legend.
Cameron: So you just knew him as
a legend?
Cuddy: My God, you’re subtle!
Anything else on your mind?
[Cameron looks at her a moment,
then bends down to look under a set of bunk beds.]
Cameron: Ugh.
Cuddy: More cockroaches.
Cameron: Worse.
[Cuddy bends down to take a look.
She sees a dead rat in a trap.]
Cuddy: Beautiful.
Cuddy’s bedroom.
[House opens the dresser drawer,
while Chase looks out the window.]
Chase: There’s no way you deduced
where that key was.
[House pulls a pink/reddish thong
out of Cuddy’s underwear drawer.]
House: Does this count as red?
[He throws it at Chase, who
catches it, then looks to get rid of it.]
Chase: You gave yourself twenty
seconds, then put money on it.
House: Oh my God. She’s got
pictures of you in here.
[Chase’s eyes widen.]
House: Just you. It’s like some
kind of weird shrine.
Chase: You’re kidding.
[Chase approaches the dresser.]
House: Yeah.
[House shuts the drawer before
Chase can see it.]
Cuddy’s bathroom.
[House enters and picks up a large
tampon box off a shelf. Chase follows, but stops at the door.]
House: She uses super tampons.
What does that mean?
Chase: You two are just too nasty
to each other not to have been…nasty.
House: Hey, I can be a jerk to
people I haven’t slept with. I am that good.
[House bends down to open the
cabinet under the bathroom sink. Foreman enters.]
Foreman: There’s nothing here.
Are you ready to go or you got some more stuff you want to sniff?
House: Whoa. Check this out.
It’s fuzzy. It’s black. It’s alive.
[House reaches a finger out to the
pipe under the sink. CSI shot of the bacteria growing there.]
Hallway.
[House, Foreman, and Chase are
walking and run into an excited Cuddy and Cameron.]
Cuddy: Patient’s lung function is
declining rapidly. Levaquin’s not working. He obviously doesn’t have
garden-variety pneumonia.
House: I’m glad you learned to
take his impending death in stride.
Cuddy: Guess what he does have.
Cameron: Rats.
House: Scars on his hand…
Cameron: Rat bites.
House: But he says they’re from
construction work so he won’t have to admit he’s got rats in the home.
Catholics are right. Pride will kill you.
Cuddy: He has
.Cameron: Rat bite fever.
House: Boogy, oggy, oogy.
Cuddy: It fits the symptoms
perfectly.
House: It’s certainly one
possibility. What about the aspergillus fungus we found under the sink?
[Cuddy picks up the x-ray.]
Cuddy: What sink?
[House dumps a tissue in the
garbage.]
House: You ought to clean your
bathroom better.
Cuddy: You broke into my house?
House: No, that would be wrong.
I had a key.
Cuddy: You had no right to invade
my privacy. There was no medical reason for that whatsoever. And there was
certainly no moral reason for it.
[She looks at the x-ray as she’s
talking and notices something.]
Cuddy: Oh damn. You’re right.
The focal consolidation makes fungal pneumonia far more likely.
House: You’re right I’m right.
On the bright side, it has the advantage of keeping you totally responsible.
Cameron: The treatment for
aspergillus is amphotericin. That’s hugely dangerous.
Cuddy: Yeah. Your point being?
House: Going the dangerous and
aggressive route didn’t work last time. It’s bound to work this time. Start
him on the amphotericin.
Alfredo’s room.
[Cameron is injecting the new drug
into the IV line. Alfredo is coughing and his family looks on. There is a
close-up of Alfredo’s little brother.]
Cuddy’s Office
Brother (Manny): Dr. Cuddy? I’m
Manny. Alfredo’s brother.
Cuddy: Well, how’s he doing?
Manny: He’s worried about money.
I want to work for you.
Cuddy [sighing]: How old are you
Manny?
Manny: Fifteen.
Cuddy: Twelve?
Manny: I can paint, mow lawns, I
rake leaves. I can start today.
Cuddy: Alfredo wants you to finish
school.
Manny: Like you care.
Cuddy: Manny, I have known your
brother—
Manny: He falls off your roof and
you don’t come to see him once?
[Cuddy is unsure what to say.]
Manny: Bitch.
[Manny turns and leaves.]
Clinic. Exam Room.
[House is sitting in a chair, his
feet propped up on the exam table. He is twirling his cane and watching his
mini-TV. There’s a knock.]
House: With a patient.
Door opens. It’s Stacy.
Stacy: Not according to the log.
House: It’s three-fifteen.
Stacy: Is it a commercial?
[House responds by picking up a
soda and sipping it.]
Stacy: How’s Cuddy doing?
House: She’s not acting like
Cuddy. It’s a pleasure.
Stacy: You know her. She has
trouble with these situations, feels personally responsible.
House: Technical term is
narcissism. You can’t believe everything is your fault unless you also believe
you’re all powerful.
Stacy: [sarcastic] Wow, doesn’t
she sound messed up.
House: I don’t believe I can fix
everything. I don’t lie awake at night tormented by that fact.
Stacy: No, you lie awake
tormented by—
House: We were talking about Cuddy
here.
[House starts to get up.]
Stacy: She cares.
House: She enjoys feeling guilty.
Stacy: Lisa cares. It’s why she
drives you nuts. ‘Cause it’s not just a puzzle to her. The patients are
actually real, their feeling actually relevant. And I’m telling you, she can’t
even talk to him.
House: My God, it’s contagious.
You’re feeling guilty, too.
Stacy: I’m just saying take it
easy on her. You owe her that.
[House pauses a second.]
House: Commercial’s over.
Stacy: So glad we talked.
Clinic. Exam room. Later.
[House is listening to the chest
of the same African-American man we saw with Foreman earlier.]
House: Snap, crackle, pop. Got
some Rice Crispies in there?
Patient: That bad, huh?
House: You were here yesterday.
I see from the chart that Dr. Foreman prescribed medicine, not a miracle. Got
to give this stuff more than a day.
Patient: I didn’t fill that Oreo’s
prescription.
House: On the theory that you
didn’t trust him because he’s black…well, I’m going to prescribe the same
medicine. See if you fill it this time.
Patient: I’m not buying into no
racist drug, okay?
House: It’s racist because it
helps black people more than white people? Well, on behalf of my peeps, let me
say, thanks for dying on principle for us.
Patient: Look. My heart’s red,
your heart’s red. And it don’t make no sense to give us different drugs.
House: You know, I have found a
difference. Admittedly, it’s a limited sample, but it’s my experience in the
last ninety seconds that all black people are morons. Sorry, African-Americans.
Patient: I’ll see another doctor.
House: Fine. Fine.
[House crumples the first
prescription and writes another.]
House: I’ll give you the same
medicine we give Republicans.
[House hands the prescription to
the patient. Patient smiles and takes it.]
Alfredo’s room.
[Cameron is examining Alfredo’s
hand.]
Alfredo: I think the medicine is
working. There’s lighter, right?
Cameron: They don’t look lighter
to me, Alfredo. How’s the tingling?
Alfredo: Not bothering.
Manny: Tell her the other thing.
[Alfredo shoots Manny a look and
mutters something in Spanish. Manny answers in Spanish, insistent.]
Manny: He hasn’t peed since
yesterday.
Cameron [concerned]: Since last
night?
Manny: Afternoon.
Alfredo: It’s not a problem. I
don’t drink much.
Cameron: I think we’ll give you a
little rest from the meds here.
[Mother asks a question in
Spanish. Cameron looks to Alfredo.]
Alfredo: She says that’s the
medicine that’s supposed to cure me.
Cameron: I’m just making a little
adjustment. Excuse me.
[Cameron leaves and walks out
into:]
Hall.
[House stands outside the room and
Cameron approaches him.]
Cameron: He’s not making any
urine. I think we just destroyed the kid’s kidney with the amphotericin. I
think he’s dying.
[Mother walks out of the room
during Cameron’s admission.]
Mother: Dying?
House: Geez, it’s the cops.
[Mother starts crying and
muttering in Spanish.]
House: Guess she understands a
little English.
[Shoot of Alfredo’s room with his
family by his side cuts to:]
House’s office.
[House, Cameron, Foreman, Chase,
and Cuddy are reviewing Alfredo’s case.]
Cameron: His kidneys are shutting
down due to direct toxicity to the proximal tubular epithelium.
Cuddy: Proof that my brilliant
idea of giving him amphotericin is killing him.
House: That wasn’t a complete
waste of time. His reaction shows that you don’t need to clean under your
sink. It wasn’t aspergilllus.
Foreman: And blood cultures show
he was negative for rat bite fever.
House: There’s still plenty of
other cool pneumonias…
Foreman: Tested negative for
Marcella, nocardia, crytococcus…
Chase: He has a low tider for
chlamydia. Antibodies, maybe?
Foreman: No, no his chest x-ray’s
all wrong for chlamydial pneumonia.
Chase: But the tider points to…
[House gets up and starts to walk
away from the table.]
Cameron: He had an STD last year.
That explains the tider. He has low sodium, maybe it’s legionella.
Chase: No, his antigen is
negative.
House: Well, that all sucks…
Cuddy: Maybe we were right to
begin with. His problems are all caused by DIC precipitated by falling off my
roof.
Chase: DIC wouldn’t cause a fever
this high.
House: See my lapdog agrees with
me. How high?
Chase: Two hours ago, it was
one-oh-three. With acetaminophen.
House: What onset abens ob-ay?
Only temperature I’m interested in right now is his temperature right now.
House walks out.
Alfredo’s room.
[House enters, thermometer in
hand. Manny is standing next to bed talking to Alfredo in Spanish.]
House: Open up.
[Alfredo says something in Spanish
to Manny.]
House: Okay, let me clarify.
Open up and keep it open.
[Alfredo and Manny exchange a few
words in Spanish.]
Manny: Okay.
[Manny leaves.]
House: Under your tongue.
[Alfredo takes the thermometer
with his left hand and places it under his tongue.]
House: You’re using your left
hand. Right one hurt?
Alfredo: No, I feel better.
House: It really doesn’t hurt?
Or you just figure if you no you’ll get out of the hospital sooner?
Alfredo [insistent]: Doesn’t
hurt. Feels good.
[House sniffs.]
House: You don’t smell too hot.
[House grabs Alfredo’s right
hand. Alfredo gasp, sits up, and drops the thermometer.]
House: Your hand is starting to
rot.
Stacy’s office.
[House and Cuddy are standing in
front of Stacy, who is seated at her desk.]
House: Why are we here?
Cuddy: We’re talking about
cutting off a kid’s hand.
House: Yes, we’re talking about cutting
it off, not subdividing it and putting in condos. It’s not a legal issue.
Cuddy: Are you being
intentionally dense?
House: Huh?
Cuddy: I think it’s premature.
Stacy: I’ve heard enough.
House: What? She says one word
and you take her side. You should wait until she at least gives a medical
reason. Otherwise I might take it personally.
Stacy: Shut up. If I were to
somehow find out that you two are in disagreement over the proper medical
course of action, it could make it awkward for my client in court. My client
being the two of you. So guys, I’m a little busy here. Why don’t we pick this
conversation up in half an hour. K?
Hallway outside Stacy’s office.
Cuddy: All of his symptoms are
caused by his underlying problem and the medicine we gave him.
House: What underlying problem?
You have no idea what the underlying problem is.
Cuddy: You’re the diagnostician.
House: Fine. It’s all my fault.
Does that make you feel better?
Cuddy: His hand still has an
arterial pulse.
House: His hand is a cesspool.
And the crap is spreading.
Cuddy: You are being pretty
aggressive about destroying a man’s livelihood.
House: Don’t give a damn about
his livelihood.
Cuddy: He lose that hand, he
loses his job. All of his jobs. He’s not like us.
House: He can’t work as a
cripple?
[Cuddy is shocked by that
statement, but recovers.]
Cuddy: He loses his home, his kid
brother drops out…
House: American dream destroyed.
Very sad, very emotional. Not one medical fact in the whole pathetic tale.
You’ve lost perspective, Cuddy. You’ve stopped looking at this as a doctor.
You’re acting like someone who shoved somebody off their roof. You want to
make things right? Too bad. Nothing’s ever right.
Stacy’s office.
House: I’m happy to report that
we’re now so in synch we’re actually wearing each other’s underwear. Chop, chop
time.
Stacy: Is this true?
House: No, I’m lying. Stupid to
do with her in the room, I guess.
Stacy: This is a big decision.
House: We made it.
Stacy: We should convene in a
meeting of the ethics committee.
House: NO! [throws hands up].
Look. She is making a medical decision based on never wanting to feel regret.
You’re making a legal decision on wanting me to be wrong.
Stacy: Greg, you have a history
of –
House: You wanted superficial
agreement. You wanted everybody’s asses covered. You got it. Now can I do
the surgery? Pretty, pretty please?
Stacy looks at Cuddy.
Stacy: Lisa? Are you sure you’re
okay with this?
[Cuddy takes a second to reply.]
Cuddy: I should be the one to
tell the family.
[Cuddy exits.]
Alfredo’s room.
[Alfredo’s mother is standing by
his bedside as Cuddy speaks.]
Cuddy: Your hand is dying. The
bacteria are eating it. When they run out of food there, they go somewhere
else.
Alfredo: If you cut off my hand,
I’ll be cured?
Cuddy: Unfortunately, no. We
still have to find the disease that’s making you sick to begin with. But you
won’t die of gangrene while we’re looking.
[Mother looks like she is going to
cry,]
Alfredo: I quit school when I am
twelve to get a job. To help my family. I know I never get a good job, never
save money, or own my own house like you. But Manny, he’s smart. The best in
his class.
Cuddy: Well, maybe Manny doesn’t
have to quit school. Maybe you can…
[Alfredo shakes his head.]
Alfredo: Are you sure I need to
do this?
Cuddy: Yes.
Alfredo: Okay. Okay.
Alfredo’s room. Later.
[Alfredo’s mother is singing to
him in Spanish. Scene shifts to:]
OR.
[Alfredo is in surgery. Once
again, Cuddy is watching. Mother’s singing can still be heard.]
House’s office.
[House is staring at the white
board and twirling his cane. Foreman enters.]
Foreman: I gave one of my clinic
patients a follow up call. Your name came up.
House: I’m guessing an old black
guy that thinks the CIA invented rap music to made your people want to kill
each other.
Foreman: He says you gave him the
white folks’ stuff. This is exactly why black people don’t live as long.
House: This isn’t about race.
Unless annoying is a race. Is he not getting better?
Foreman: He’s fine so far. I’m
calling him back in. I’m getting him on the right stuff.
[Foreman starts to walk away.]
House: Oh, relax, Foreman. He
already is.
[Foreman stops and turns,
confused.]
House: I told him it was the white
stuff. I gave him the black stuff.
Foreman [shaking his head]: He
was right. You did exactly what white people do. You figure we don’t need to
know the truth or can’t understand it. So you just lie to us.
House: It’s just a white lie.
Foreman: Good one, Master.
House: Right, I’m a racist. Too
bad that idiot will never know for the rest of his long, long life.
Foreman: Every slave master
thought they were doing the black man a favor. Negro can’t take care of
himself, so we’ll put him to work. Give him four walls, a bed. We’ll civilize
the heathen. I’ll tell you what. Stop don’t us favors. If you’re right and
we end up back in the jungle with lousy blood pressure medicine, it won’t be on
your head.
[Foreman leaves.]
OR.
[Alfredo’s surgery is in
progress. They are about to detach the arm. Chase is present and notices
something on the other hand. Cut to:]
OR Observation Deck.
[Cuddy still watches as the surgeons
finally remove the hand. Stacy enters.]
Stacy: You okay?
[Cuddy looks at her, but doesn’t
answer.]
Stacy: Wondering if you made the
right call?
Cuddy: I wanted to be a doctor
from the time I was twelve.
Stacy: I wanted to be a lawyer from
the time I was six until my second week of law school. Sorry, your story.
Cuddy: I graduated medical school
at 25, pissed off that I was second in my class. Chief of Medicine at 32.
Second youngest ever, first woman.
Stacy: Sad story.
Cuddy: If I had been Alfredo’s
doctor—
Stacy: You are his doctor.
Cuddy: I insisted on giving him
Protein C. We had to cut his skull open. I insisted on amphotericin; killed
his kidneys. I missed the pneumonia. Completely. I would have searched his
house and ignored mine. I would have watched him die, trying to save his hand.
[closes her eyes] Oh, if I didn’t have House looking over my shoulder…[she
shakes her head]
Stacy: You say you’re not as good
a doctor as House is?
Cuddy: I’m saying House is right.
I’m so anxious to get ahead I haven’t been a doctor. In years.
[Chase enters.]
Chase: His middle finger is
dusky.
Cuddy: Yeah, that’s why we’re
doing this.
Chase: No, I mean the other
hand. The one we haven’t chopped off yet.
Alfredo’s room.
[Alfredo is still getting worse
and now has a pressurized oxygen mask attached to his face helping him
breathe. Cuddy lifts his other hand. The last two little fingers are quickly
turning dark.]
Cuddy’s office.
[Chase, Cameron, and Foreman are
sitting around a small table. House is laying across a couch. Cuddy puts a
piece of paper in front of Cameron.]
Cuddy: His O2 stats are down to
eighty-eight. His lungs are giving out. He needs a ventilator.
[Cameron picks up the paper and
looks at it.]
Cameron: And dialysis.
House: I’m getting distracted by
the multi-system organ failure. Pinkies are supposed to be pink, right?
They’re not called grayies.
Cuddy: But the organ failure is
gonna kill him.
House: But the pinky is weirder…[sits
up] What does it tell us?
Foreman: Same thing the right
hand told us before we cut it off. It’s the same symptom.
House: But at a different time.
His blood work indicates mild DIC. What if it’s mild in the way you get out of
the ocean, the water clinging to your body makes the sea level drop. It’s
technically true, but completely irrelevant.
Foreman: Well, the lack of DIC
would explain everything if there were also a lack of anything to explain.
House: Endocarditis. His heart’s
infected.
CSI shot of Alfredo’s heart.
House: Little bacteria
cauliflowers clinging to his bowels. Except something they can’t hold on.
They go swimming in his bloodstream. Thursday, one breaks off, goes to his
right hand. Black fingers, gangrene. Friday’s child heads for the kidneys.
We all know what Saturday’s are all about. Party with the left hand. Also
explains the fever.
Cuddy: It’s perfect. Except for
the little fact that we’re already tested for endocarditis and he was negative.
House: Which either means he is
negative or what infection could cause pneumonia and culture negative
endocarditis? Prize value goes down with every clue.
[House squawks like a bird twice.]
Chase: You’re thinking
citicosis? Alfredo doesn’t have any pet parrots.
House: Which are squawking. Give
him doxiciclean (?).
Cuddy: No! That will just make
his clotting problem worse.
House: I liked you better when
you were coming up with wacky drugs for us to try. We give him the doxeen now,
damnit, maybe we can save his pinky. He can teach his brother how to count all
the way to five.
Cameron: If you’re wrong, he’ll
end up with no hands and no feet.
House: Technically, if I’m wrong,
he’ll end up dead. But I take your point. What’s his night job?
Foreman: He cleans up at some
fast food joint. Why? Do you think he got it from a chicken nugget?
House: Since when do fast food
joints allow twelve year olds to mop floors?
Cuddy: Alfredo is twenty.
House: Really? Looks younger.
Alfredo’s room.
[Alfredo’s mother is sitting by
his bedside. House enters. Cuddy is three steps behind him.]
House [to Alfredo]: Where were
you going to work tonight?
[Alfredo can’t answer. He’s
unconscious.]
House: What job do you do on
Saturday nights?
[House opens a draw and pulls
something out of it.]
Cuddy: What are you doing?
[House opens a syringe.]
House: Wake him up.
Cuddy: We just cut off his hand.
House: Yeah. We need to talk
about it.
[Cuddy grabs the syringe.]
Cuddy: It’s not happening.
[House sighs and starts
questioning the mother. In Spanish.]
House [to Cuddy]: Honest, I have
no idea what I just said.
Cuddy: Why didn’t you say you
spoke Spanish?
House: Well, because, she’d want
to talk to me.
[House questions the mother again
in Spanish.]
House [to Cuddy]: Or something
like that.
[Mother answers.]
House: She says he doesn’t work
Saturday nights. Give me the talking juice.
Cuddy: The fact it doesn’t fit
your theory doesn’t make it a lie.
House: When she was out of the
room, the kid brother insisted he was going to cover for Alfredo at work
tonight.
[He asks the mother another
question, yet again in Spanish. She answers and House doesn’t like the
answer.]
House: Saturday nights he goes
dancing. Either it’s a lie or he’s dancing with birds.
[House tries again to ask the
Mother where Alfredo goes. She has no clue.]
House: Give her the talking
juice.
Cuddy: She doesn’t know what
you’re talking about.
House: Odds are, it’s going to be
close to his house. Probably an abandoned warehouse or factory. Take the
Scooby gang and spread out.
Cuddy: What the hell are we
looking for?
House: Find somebody who looks
like crap, tell him you want to place a bet.
[Cuddy turns back to bed.]
Cuddy: Ah…
House: Sayonara!
Abandoned Warehouse.
[There are a lot of people and
Spanish music plays in the background. Cuddy and Foreman enter and find a ring
and people holding fistfuls of cash. It’s a cockfight. Cuddy and Foreman
exchange a look. Another minute passes when Cuddy spots Manny, picking up the
dead chickens. Cuddy shakes his head and they leave.]
Wilson’s Office.
[House is tossing two balls into
the air with one hand. Wilson sits in a chair. A cell phone rings. Wilson
picks it up and looks.]
Wilson: It’s Cuddy.
[House takes it while still
throwing the balls in the air.]
House: I already put him on the
citicosis meds. Soon as you left. You’re welcome.
[He hangs up and stops tossing the
balls.]
House: What do you think the
record for one handed juggling is?
Wilson: You can yo-yo one handed.
House: Good point.
[House starts to juggle again –
this time with both hands.]
Alfredo’s room.
Alfredo: I always wash my hands.
Cuddy: If a bird is infected, you
can get citicosis just by breathing his dust.
Alfredo: Then why do I get sick
and nobody else.
Cuddy: Your asthma made you
venerable. You’re gonna be all right now.
Alfredo [softly]: Yes. Gracias.
[He lifts his left hand to shake Cuddy’s
hand. Cuddy takes it and squeezes.]
Alfredo: For saving my life.
Cuddy’s office.
Cuddy: He thanked me.
Stacy: He should have.
Cuddy: We cut off his hand. If
we’d figured it out earlier—
Stacy: If you figured it out
later, he’d be dead.
Cuddy: I never figured it out at
all.
[House enters.]
House: Hello.
Cuddy: What do you want House?
House: if you’re wallowing in
self loathing, I’ve got something that might help.
[House takes out a bundle of
papers.]
House: We’re getting sued.
Stacy [surprised]: You saved his
life. He admitted that.
Cuddy: We’ll settle. He’s got a
stub where his hand used to be. We have insurance. Case seems pretty solid to
me.
House: Ca-ching. The new American
dream. Happy ending. Kid’s gonna be just fine.
[House starts to leave, but pause
just in front of the door. ]
House: Cuddy.
[He turns to face Cuddy again.]
House: Your guilt. It’s perverse,
and it makes you a crappy doctor. It also makes you okay at what you do.
Cuddy: You figure a perverted
sense of guilt makes me a good boss?
House: Now would the world be a
better place if people never felt guilty? Makes sex better. [points to Stacy
with his cane] Should have seen her in the last months of our relationship.
Lot of guilt. Lot of screaming. I know this wasn’t just because it was your
roof. Cuddy…you see the world as it is and you see the world as it could be.
What you don’t see is what everybody else sees. The giant, gaping chasm in
between.
Cuddy: House, I’m not naïve. I
realize—
House: If you did, you never
would have hired me.
[Cuddy doesn’t answer.]
House: You’re not happy unless
things are just right. Which means two things. You’re a good boss. And
you’ll never be happy.
[House starts to walk out again.]
House: By the way, why does
everybody think you and I had sex? Think there could be something to it? I
don’t know.
[House opens the door and leaves.]
House’s office.
[First shot is the exterior
revealing a balcony, looking in at House and Wilson. It’s pouring.]
Wilson: Cuddy feels guilty about
not diagnosing citicosis.
[Cut to inside the office. House
is playing with a yo-yo.]
House: Think so?
Wilson: There’s no way she could have.
House: No. No way she could
have.
[House turns and looks out the
window.]
House: It’s raining.
Alfredo’s room.
[Alfredo lifts the stump where his
hand used to be and touches it, thinking.]
Cuddy’s house.
[Rain drips from the roof and
pounds the dining room table. Cuddy takes a pot from the kitchen and puts it
under the drip before heading to bed.]
[End.]