Dr. Gregory House (houlmes) wrote in plainsboro,
Dr. Gregory House

Date/Time: Thursday, 11:10.
Location: Patient's room/right outside it.
Open To: Anyone.
Currently Involving: House and hopefully the team.
Warnings: Rambling?

After all of that time wasted in his office, the wheels in House's head were cranking. A patient with sudden Tourette's after a car accident, but no head trauma-related neurological problems. On one hand, it was exciting. Head trauma was easy, and therefore, boring. It was too messy, not precise enough for House. Like the simple explanation of drugs. He never liked that one either. But on the other hand, it was contradicting. How could a patient start displaying symptoms after a head injury in a car crash, but not have any brain damage? Something else must have caused the crash, he'd finally ascertained, rather than the crash causing the problem. But what? Either way, something would have presented itself by now. It was this train of thought that led the ever-antisocial House to decide to pay the patient a visit.

As was his way, he was striding down the hall to the patient's room on an impulse rather than bothering with telling any of his team. When he arrived, both the mother and the oldest daughter of the patient were in the room and looked up as he slid open the glass door. "Hi. I'm Dr. House. I need you to tell me what happened right before the car crash." He leaned on the railing of the patient's bed, waiting expectantly, impatiently, for an answer. The patient opened his mouth, but his wife interrupted. "He said he doesn't remember. Doesn't it say that on the file?" House furrowed a brow at her like he'd just realized she was there. "Skimmed that part. Okay. You tell me what happened right before the crash." The question was now directed at the daughter, who looked weary. In fact, the whole room was oozing with tension, and House's carefree attitude wasn't helping any. "Did he say anything, stall, start flopping like a fish, anything?"

The daughter looked unsure. "He was fine until we swerved... it was really fast." "Didn't the nurse say this wasn't related to the crash?" The wife was interrupting again. House rolled his eyes, cursing the nurses for trying to make calls on things they knew nothing about. "It is related. Just not in the way you think. The crash didn't come first. It's the egg, not the chicken." Was he absolutely sure of this? No, but he had a good feeling, and seeming confident made it a lot easier to convince people and get the information he needed. The wife was proving to be a difficult, however. "But he didn't start acting like this until after the accident." Suddenly she wasn't so sure of the nurses, either. Before House could have any say on the matter, the patient, his wife, and his daughter were all suddenly of conflicting opinions; the nephrologist had obviously sped up a ticking bomb, judging from the short fuses. As amusing as the process was with the patient's involuntary swearing, House was the first to notice when the man locked up. "He's seizing." And right on cue, the patient was convulsing; with a wave of his cane House was hailing nurses into the room and stepping into the hallway, out of the war zone. Time to page the team.

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