How to ask for Oxy as a Known Addict 101
“I need a script.”
Wilson didn’t look up from his desk. “No. I just gave you one yesterday.”
“Not for Vicodin, honestly you talk as if I’m an addict.” Wilson looked up briefly to flash House an unimpressed glare. He could see the slight curiosity in his eyes though. “I need Oxy.”
Wilson sighed and finally put down his pen. “House, while I appreciate you trying to get opioids the legal way for once, I can’t prescribe a known opioid addict something like Oxy without a damn good reason.”
“How about this for a damn good reason? I’m in pain.”
“You’re always in pain.”
“Yes but now I’m in more pain.”
“Did you do anything you feel guilty about? You know that your leg tends to hurt more wh-”
“Oh, will you shut up about my hypothetically psychogenic leg pain! My leg has a chunk taken out of it, it’s going to hurt.” House swallowed a yelp as a particularly sharp pain pierced his chest. The bolt twisted right below his heart, squeezing his ribs and making it hard to breathe. Wilson’s sharp eyes narrowed. House exhaled sharply as the pressure decreased. “Besides, this isn’t about my leg. It’s about my neuropathy.”
Wilson leaned forward and frowned in concern. “It’s back? I thought you took something for it?”
And oh hadn’t that been an interesting conversation? Wilson was his only muggle friend that knew about his neuropathy. He didn’t know the details of what had caused it, only that there was an incident when he was a teenager. He had been pissed and horrified when he learned about House taking unapproved drugs for it but had eventually let it go when he learned that House has been on them for years without issue.
“I do. But Cuddy threw them out by accident.”
“How long until you can get more?”
House thought. His next batch would be ready in two weeks. He could get the ingredients in a few days but the potion took a month to brew. He couldn’t wait two weeks. He would have to bite the bullet and buy pre-made potion. Even then, this was the sort of thing you ordered well in advance. House hated to pull the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice card but it was better than pain.
“Six days, hopefully. Four, if I can place the order today.”
Wilson searched his face and sighed again, “Fine.” He pulled out his pad and started writing. Tearing off the script he held it out.
House went to grab it but Wilson didn’t let go, “If you’re fucking with, I swear to God House…”
He ripped the script from Wilson’s hand, “What? If I’m fucking with you, what?”
Wilson sighed again. Admittedly it was more of a huff this time than a sigh but still. “I already risked jail for your habit once. Probably more than that if I think about it. Not again. If I find out you’re lying to me,” Wilson gave House a lost yet resolved look, “I’ll turn you in myself.”
_______
“So, negative biopsy, normal EEG, and a house full of toxins. Differential?”
“The mold could be causing the hallucinations?” Thirteen suggested. Unlikely but she’d feel like an idiot if she didn’t test it and that ended up being it.
“Test it. See what kind it is before he demands we burn at the stake. Any other ideas?”
“Carbon Monoxide could be leaking out of the water heater.” Chase offered.
“Explains the hallucinations and fatigue but not the cold-like symptoms. Besides, he’s been here three days. He’d be better by now.”
Chase shrugged, “His recovery could be masked by something we gave him. Some of those drugs do have fatigue and decreased lung function as side-effects.”
“And the cold Mr. Malpractice?” Foreman rolled his eyes. It wasn’t his better insults, sue him.
“He could just have a cold. People get those you know.”
“Flu can present with hallucinations,”
“Yes it can, that’s why his first three doctors all did flu tests,”
“Since when do we accept the results of other doctors’ tests?”
“Since all good scientists build on one another’s work. You can’t make progress if you have to do everything yourself”
“Bullshit!”
“Really?” House asked dryly, “I thought you’d be all over that idea.”
“Yeah, and you always shoot me down. You have never trusted another doctor’s opinion on a case, certainly not one from another hospital. You always have to do it yourself or have your team-” House bolted --as much as he could bolt, his leg being what it was-- out of the room.
“..okay. That’s not normal, even for House,” Chase said, leaning back in his chair to follow his boss’s movement down the hall.
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“Who cares Thirteen, we have a dying patient. House is a big boy, let him deal with his messes on his own,” Foreman cut in.
“You saw him this morning, he could be seriously sick or something.”
Foreman sighed and stood up. Facing Thirteen, he put on his best I-know-best-don’t-worry voice, “Look, he’s in a hospital full of equipment and specialists. If he needs help all he has to do is ask. It’s not our jobs to pry into his personal life. Our job is to diagnose and treat this patient and we can’t do that if we’re chasing after House and trying to make him grow up.”
“Fine. But you know as well as I that we can’t solve this without him. That makes sorting out his personal life our job.”
Foreman pursed his lips but said nothing. Chase, meanwhile, was looking at the spot where his boss had vanished. Not turned a corner. Not got lost in a crowd. Just… blinked out of existence.