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Cats' Corners: the little HOUSE in the woods....
Where House is NEVER safe...
The More Things Change... Chapter TEN 
16th-May-2007 08:52 am
FindOutWhoFriendsAre
Summary:  Wilson is given an unexpected opportunity to prove his friendship to House.  This story is my own attempt to make sense of the unsettling disruption of the House-Wilson dynamic in Season 3, so mention is made of many of the S3 plotlines and character development.  House-Wilson-Cuddy angst, hurt/comfort, introspection--my usual gig.  ;)  x-posted
Rating:  PG


Chapter One  

CHAPTER TEN:  FIRST SIGN OF TROUBLE

 

In the morning, Wilson’s the first one awake.  No surprise there, but when House is still asleep at 9:00am, Wilson decides he’ll simply have to risk his wrath and wake him—they’re already an hour late on the vancomycin.

 

Wilson prepares the infusion and hangs it on the pole.  “House.  Hey, c’mon; need to get you hooked up.”  House mumbles something and turns over, but makes no effort to sit up or even open his eyes.

 

Wilson gives up.  “Just let me have your arm.”  He reaches for the heplock, grasps House’s upper arm to steady it—and stops.  “House.  Wake up; gotta get a temp.  Think you’ve got a fever.”

 

House reluctantly opens his eyes.  “If you’ll let me sleep another fifteen minutes, I’ll tell it to leave.”  He shuts his eyes again and burrows under the blankets.

 

“Not playing here; take the thermometer.”

 

House groans, but does as he’s told.  When the digital thermometer beeps, he removes it from his mouth and glances at it.  “Ninety eight point eight—most normal thing about me,” he informs Wilson.  “Now can I go back to sleep?”  He tosses the thermometer on the nightstand and turns over.

 

“Not ‘til I get you hooked up.”  Wilson plugs the tubing into the heplock, still frowning at the unnatural warmth of House’s skin.  He grabs the thermometer, presses the memory button—and does a double take.  “It’s one-oh-one eight!  House!”

 

“Didn’t have my glasses; so sue me.”  House appears remarkably unconcerned at this potential first sign of MRSA infection.

 

Wilson shakes his head and gets the infusion started.  They’d picked up the admixture of vancomycin and diphenhydramine last night from the hospital pharmacy, and Wilson knows that—between the fever and the antihistamine—House will sleep through the two hour administration.  And that’s a good thing.  Under normal circumstances, keeping him in one place for two hours would be impossible.

 

As Wilson had predicted, House goes back to sleep even before Wilson finishes taping the IV tubing into place.  Wilson waits a few minutes to make sure there won’t be any problems, then quietly leaves the room.

 

He’s not happy about the fever, of course, but he’s trying to temper his worry with common sense.  Doesn’t necessarily mean a whole lot; could just be a result of the injury itself, or it could even be a side effect of the vanc.  Need to call the lab, check on the cultures, though.  With any luck, the MRSA strain’ll be susceptible to something less nephrotoxic than vancomycin.

 

A call to the lab confirms that the bacterium cultured from the contaminated scalpel is resistant to the oral medications House had initially been taking.  And so far, the lab tech tells Wilson, it appears that it’s susceptible only to vancomycin.

 

Wilson groans.  “Patient’s renal function is just borderline normal as it is.  Anything else showing any kind of a response at all?”

 

“Not so far, Dr. Wilson.  I’ll be sure to let you know, but I doubt we’re going to see anything different than usual.”

 

Wilson thanks the tech and hangs up.  He shakes his head and sighs.  Figures.  Guess I forgot it’s House we’re dealing with; no such thing as ‘luck’ where his health’s involved.

 

Wilson’s next call is to Cuddy, who reminds him that if House’s fever goes up, or if he begins to show any other symptoms, she wants him admitted to the hospital immediately.  Wilson assures her that he won’t take any chances.

 

Cuddy’s still asking questions; she wants to know about Wilson now.  “How’s it going, staying with House?  Get a chance to talk to him yet?”

 

“No, not really,” Wilson tells her.  “Figured I’d give things a while to settle down, see how it goes with his health.  Not fair to expect him to deal with my guilt, not on top of everything else.”

 

Cuddy wonders if she should simply tell Wilson the real reason House is avoiding serious discussion.  Now that both men have taken her into their confidence, it puts her in an awkward position.  She remembers the way they’d both winked at her last night, though, and she smiles.  They’re both working towards the same thing—just approaching it from opposite angles.  Nothing wrong with that; I’ll give it a while, see how it plays out.

 

“But you’re getting along okay?” she asks.

 

“So far, yeah.  I’m keeping my ‘hovering,’ as he calls it, under control.  And—believe it or not—seems like he’s making a real effort to rein in some of his sarcasm.  ‘Course, that could be because he’s not feeling up to par, but right now, hey—I’ll take what I can get!”

 

They end the phone call, both still laughing as they hang up.

 

Wilson occupies himself by logging on to PubMed from his laptop, and reading all the abstracts he can find concerning current treatment protocols for MRSA.  He makes note of a few he’s interested in; he’ll download the full articles later.

 

He’s never had much professional interest in infectious disease before; he’s had to deal with the problem only peripherally, whenever an immune-compromised chemo patient would develop an infection.  But then I’d just pass ‘em off to Nadel.  Or House, if the case was interesting enough.  Don’t want to pass this one off, though.  This one’s not just professional; it’s personal.  And he’s gonna get the best I’ve got—gonna prove to him that he can count on me.

 

When the pump signals that the antibiotic infusion is complete, Wilson hurries to shut it off and get House disconnected.  He doesn’t want the noise to awaken House; with that fever, extra rest is the best thing for him right now.

 

House continues to sleep through all the activity, so Wilson uses the tympanic thermometer to get a quick check on the fever.  House bats like an annoyed child at the probe in his ear, but doesn’t wake.  Wilson looks at the reading—101.4—and nods his satisfaction.

 

He’d told Cuddy he isn’t going to take any chances, though, so he calls the lab back and arranges for a courier to pick up tonight’s blood samples.  This fever, slight as it is, grants House his earlier wish—House is confined to the apartment; Wilson’ll draw the samples.  They’ll need a trough level on the vanc before starting the next dose; if the level’s too high, it will be a pretty reliable sign that House’s kidneys aren’t handling the med as well as they should.  And then what?  House might be satisfied to just assume it won’t happen, but I’d be happier knowing how to handle it if it does.

 

Wilson smiles at the memory of yesterday’s conversation about the code box.  House is right; I do expect the worst, and I wanna be prepared for it.

 

At 1:00pm, House wakes up for real—as evidenced by his bellowed order for “Lunch—and the breakfast you let me sleep through!”

 

Wilson makes him wait while he does a quick assessment and gets a set of vital signs; everything looks good, and temp’s staying in the one-oh-one range.  House claims that his hand isn’t quite as bothersome today—but Wilson thinks that probably has something to do with the way House is carrying it, cradled safely against his chest.  At any rate, Wilson’s just glad that House has finally figured out, on his own, that it’s not a good idea to simply pretend that there’s nothing wrong with the hand, and try to conduct business as usual.  Pain’s a good teacher sometimes—even for House, Wilson thinks.

 

While they’re eating, Wilson points out that if they want to continue to eat, he’s going to have to make a run to the grocery store.  He grabs a pen and starts making a list; he writes down all the necessities, and about half of the things House suggests—none of which bear any resemblance to the four basic food groups, and all of which, House insists, “are essential for proper nutrition.  And I’m a doctor; I know these things.”

 

Wilson nods agreeably, and pretends to write down “three boxes of berry-banana Pop Tarts and some pistachio pudding cups—gotta love that neon green glow!”

 

“And… uh… what’re you going to be doing while I’m at the store?” Wilson asks hesitantly.  Probably don’t wanna know—but then there’s that pesky moral obligation to the rest of society….  He’s relieved when House points out that there are three solid hours of soaps coming on.

 

Wilson’s at the door, ready to leave, when he thinks of one more thing.  “I’ve got my cell phone with me.  Call me if you need me, or if anything changes.”  House, engrossed in the soaps, doesn’t answer.  “Okay?”  Wilson’s not going anywhere without confirmation.

 

“Fine,” House answers distractedly.  “Sure you don’t wanna leave the numbers for Poison Control, the police, and the fire department by the phone too?”

 

Wilson goes to stand in front of House, blocking the TV screen.  “Those are all 911, House.  Think you can remember that?”

 

House looks at him and grins slowly, dangerously.  “Think I’m gonna need to?”

 

Wilson studies the mischievous face for a moment.  “I’ll make it quick,” he sighs.  “Very quick.”  He heads to the door.

 

“Just don’t forget that cool purple catsup!” House calls after him.  Wilson slams the door—hard.

Chapter Eleven

Thoughts 
16th-May-2007 01:59 pm (UTC)
Oh, the purple catsup. (Do they still make that?) House is such a realistic child.

The first signs of impending doom. *delighted*

I have nothing substantive to say. I'm just registering my on-going delight.
16th-May-2007 02:20 pm (UTC)
no--they make neither the purple nor the green (and what a stupid idea those were!) house is simply hoping wilson can find it on clearance (grocery stores here are practically giving the horrid stuff away).

ongoing delight is good! :)
16th-May-2007 02:08 pm (UTC)
Oh, and it begins!*braces for the coming angst*

I gotta say- I always love how you portray the interactions between Wilson and Cuddy- and how House is also a part of their interactions even when Cuddy is focusing on how Wilson is. I don't think House and Wilson's friendship would be anywhere near as strong as it is if they didn't have Cuddy to help smooth the rough patches from time to time. (They need all the help they can get.)

And purple catsup- lol!

Thanks again for a great chapter! *hugs*
16th-May-2007 02:24 pm (UTC)
They need all the help they can get.

boy--you can say that again. and cuddy is such fun to write! (wish the show's writers felt the same way, but then i wish a lot of things about the show's writers... sigh).

and you're welcome! *hugs back!*
16th-May-2007 02:51 pm (UTC)
Gosh I though you wouldn't write a chap today... I'm soooo pleased :333 Is this the begining of the storm? Poor Wilson x_D He's going to prove his friendship the hard way x_D

Last chapter was wonderful, with mother-Wilson and all. I was "AWWW"-ing at the end ^^ As always you had me hooked to your fics :333

Just... let House play his piano at the end. Please. Please. Don't be that cruel with him *whines whines*

16th-May-2007 02:59 pm (UTC)
Just... let House play his piano at the end. Please. Please. Don't be that cruel with him *whines whines*

ummm... sorry, no? piano's gonna be figuring into the sequel bigtime--or would you prefer i forego writing a sequel to get us through the looooong, hot, newhouseless summer months? ;)
16th-May-2007 07:14 pm (UTC)
oh! there's a sequel?? Uhmm...... Aw... poor thing. =( I can't figure how is he gonna entertain himself that time... well I suppose he will be busy grumping, sulking and making Wilson's life miserable XD Hope everything ends more or less right... I think House has bad luck enough for him and two or three people more *chukles and pats him*

Ok xD With that much angst ahead I forgive you (and trust you, because I always love your endings) There would be a sequel's sequel? ^^
16th-May-2007 09:39 pm (UTC)
well... first i need to finish writing this one. but i already have some ideas and scenes for the sequel, and we'll see where it goes from there. (why do i have a deja vu feeling at the idea of... a trilogy? ;) )
16th-May-2007 03:05 pm (UTC)
Happy, I'm happy. As promised you posted your new chapter. And it comes at a pretty good time as i've just finished to watch last night epi and was frustated (as always) that it only last 42 minutes. When it ended, I was full of hope you have posted and that I could spend more time in the House World. You did. THANKS ! Still loving your fic, you're brilliant, I mean it (and I do think the writers could use a little help from you sometimes. Have you filled in your application form yet ?).
Roll on tomorrow (not a tuesday again ? oh no, thanks god its friday, phew).
ps : when you're hired on House's set, could you please set up a rendez-vous for me with HL ? Thanks.
16th-May-2007 03:14 pm (UTC)
lol! the only letter i'm expecting from fox/nbc is one demanding that i cease abusing their copyrighted characters immediately! (and believe me--they don't want me writing for the show; you think chase, foreman and cameron are glorified wallpaper now? ;) )

but thanks for the incredible compliment!
16th-May-2007 03:32 pm (UTC)
Well, it happens that I like the ducklings-lackeys-kids to be just wallpaper. I wish they were House's foils, period. How rude is that ?
16th-May-2007 03:50 pm (UTC)
not rude at all--i'm in total agreement! :)
16th-May-2007 06:05 pm (UTC)
heheheh so like House to want the breakfast he slept through along with lunch. lol

So we have a fever. I'll try and wait patiently for the next post ;)
16th-May-2007 06:22 pm (UTC)
but it's just a little fever, probably indicative of nothing at all--right??? yeah. and smoke so rarely indicates fire, too.... :)
16th-May-2007 07:33 pm (UTC)
*rubs hands together* Oh boy!

He has a fever... things aren't looking good for our poor House.

Never did try that weird colored ketchup. Green was pretty cool too.

House is such a child. :)
16th-May-2007 09:42 pm (UTC)
yes--and i think that while he can be childish, wilson's able to keep from murdering him in his sleep because he can also be childlike, which wilson finds endearing.
16th-May-2007 08:27 pm (UTC)
I like that House can be both child-like and childish, which are his greatest strengths (curiosity and wonder) and his greatest frustrating quality (ability to intentionally annoy and do what he knows he oughtn’t). I don’t always like the House as overgrown toddler motif, but I think because you deeply respect kids, I like it when you do it so it doesn’t just come off as belittling him (I hated being talked down to as a kid).
I like that you are setting up a complex interplay between Dr Wilson (conscientious doctor but out of his field) and Dr House (deeply knowledgeable about the field but unable to be objective about his own health) along side their complex interplay as Wilson and House.
16th-May-2007 09:45 pm (UTC)
oh, too funny! in response to bmax, i just made the same ish-like comparison about house; should've read your comment first! and of course i'm going to tell you that you've made a brilliant point, and that great minds think alike, right? ;)
16th-May-2007 09:17 pm (UTC)
I'm still loving it. Fabulously IC, and I can't wait to see what happens next.
16th-May-2007 09:46 pm (UTC)
thanks, especially for mentioning that i'm managing to keep them in character--i worry about that sometimes!
16th-May-2007 09:29 pm (UTC)
They don't just make purple ketchup, you know. They make green, too. I'm much more partial to that one even though I've never actually eaten any of it. I expect it tastes like the red one.

Anyway.

Brilliant chapter, as usual. I love how House isn't paying Wilson any attention because the television's on. I have that trouble, too. If anyone talks to me while the television or something is on, I will not understand what anyone's saying. Of course, your version is probably just House ignoring Wilsie, but I choose to believe differently. *nods* Hooray for Sensory Disintegration Disorder! *bright grin*

I'd probably be a lot more effusive about this chapter, but I had to take my migraine meds and...well, I'm sure you know the effect they have. Guh.

Oh, hey, could I get you to take a look at this application I put up at hogwarts_hocus and see what you think of it as a reply to this comment? I applied as John from You Don't Know Me and right now he's talking to House. He's already talked to John House and some other people. He's in the process of getting Sorted. Anyway, I...just thought about it and would like to ask you if I got the medical information I wrote about John's therapy following his injuries correct.

John Steenwilly's application to Hogwarts for Sorting
16th-May-2007 09:40 pm (UTC)
Ack! I meant Sensory Integration Disorder. I was just writing an email about the fic I'm waiting for you to read. Slippage. Oops. Meds, too. Yay. Anyway, you get the point.
16th-May-2007 09:56 pm (UTC)
i tried, sweetie, i really did--didn't get to the med stuff, but the rest of it means absolutely nothing to me, as i am woefully uneducated in current pop culture. if it doesn't concern house (just house, and canon characters--not house crossovers, not even house OCs), it doesn't hold my interest. period. (caused partially by meds as well) i'm really sorry about that, but we've discussed this at length, so i know you understand. and i felt my voices threatened, as the part i looked at read like fiction.

perhaps one of the many nice folk here would be more helpful than i?
16th-May-2007 10:01 pm (UTC)
Sorry about that. I can give you the links to the exact posts I want you to see. The rule against godmodding should protect your House!voice. We're only allowed to write for the perspective of the character involved. Actually, I can copy and paste. That way, the font will also be enlarged. Here you go:

There's nerve damage in the left because my femurs were both fractured, which I'm told takes a lot of force. I really don't remember that part because I was unconscious. For all I know, he used a baseball bat. Anyway, the splintered bone nicked some of my nerves. My surgeon told me they were the sciatic nerves and because of that, they're weakened. If I try to run, I fall over. It took a very long time before I could walk and I have to be careful about it because tripping is not fun. The PT has been because the goal was to get me on my feet again. The only good thing about being in a wheelchair is that you can pop wheelies. I certainly had time to learn how.

I walk with special crutches now, as you can see. They're made of fiberglass and were painted to look like there are little silver veins inside them. They were a gift from a professional tuba player who is now a friend of mine. He knew Art first and was his mentor when he was at Juilliard learning to be a conductor. That was how I met him. He's a nice guy. He sends me sheet music so I can learn new pieces. ...I hope I can still send him letters here...


That was the first one.

16th-May-2007 10:02 pm (UTC)
Art fought him off, I think. Like I said, I was unconscious by that point. And having my jaw wired shut was strange. The nasogastric tube and the nutrients they gave me tasted like pureed spit at first because my tongue was swollen. They eventually started giving me shakes and stuff once my stomach had begun to tolerate them. I had corrective surgery for that, too. Who knew they made teeth implants?

Art called the police and he was in jail a few days later. I didn't testify at the trial because I was in the hospital, but apparently there were pictures.

My mom and Art take me and Sprocket to the beach sometimes. Floating is good for the pressure and it certainly feels better. I had a huge bathtub in our new house, too. I miss it.


Second one.
16th-May-2007 10:04 pm (UTC)
John grimaced, remembering when the itching had made him desperate enough to try just that. "Um...I fractured it that way. The left originally should have come off a month earlier than it did..."

The trip to the Emergency Room hadn't been fun at all. And having to explain to the doctor on staff along with his parents exactly why his arm had been bleeding and re-fractured hadn't been any easier. He'd expected Art and Mom to be very irritated to say the least. He certainly hadn't been expecting everyone's laughter or the doctor's understanding laugh. He'd been given a special instrument and some hydrocortisone with the promise that his mother would apply it and a second promise that he'd never try that again. They'd replaced the cast and the doctor had written DO NOT CARELESSLY FLING ME AGAINST ROCKS on it in Magic Marker.

The same thing had been written on his right one just in case. He told Dr. House as much, his good mood returning as he reread the fading warning again.
16th-May-2007 10:11 pm (UTC)
i'm sorry--call me dense, but i'm not following it. just not. and sciatic nerve damage causes pain, usually intermittent; i've never heard of it causing weakness as well, but who knows? and right now, i'm elbow-deep in my own med research, as well as the very serious family problem outlined yesterday in my journal. i just cannot help you right now. my own attention span is not the best currently; i'm doing all i can to stay on track with my own story, and handle the aforementioned problem--read the entry if you haven't yet, and try to understand. please.
16th-May-2007 10:12 pm (UTC)
Aye aye. Family problem? I have to go read now. *hugs you in advance*
17th-May-2007 12:13 am (UTC)
There is such a thing as purple ketchup? I know there is green ketchup, but purple? Where was I at? Anyhow off the topic of ketchup, Wilson is a worrywart. This is my 1 o'clock in the morning declaration. He also has forgotten that House knows very well that pain can be a good teacher. He lives with it daily. I guess this is a part of the Wilson still needs to learn some more things before we get any farther thing? Ah Wilson... I love House's sarcasm about 911. That was great. I think I would be commenting the same thing if I were him. Anyhow brilliant job!!
17th-May-2007 01:14 pm (UTC)
well, there was such a thing as purple catsup; they took it off the market and it's now listed under 'famous food flops' but you can still occasionally find it on clearance. here's the publicity hype: http://pittsburgh.about.com/library/weekly/aa073101a.htm anyway. the thing about the pain? people who live with severe chronic pain have an odd tendency to not fear acute pain, to actually forget that such a thing exists, and that it hurts. until it happens. and then, we still tend to ignore it, because, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't much seem to matter--until it lets us know it matters! that's why, in my opinion, house is so cavalier about all those patient-inflicted punches (and gunshots!) he gets.