Chapitre 17: Chapter 17
(This chapter has already been edited, but there may be errors, I will not be able to correct them today, but if you comment on them, as soon as I have access to my computer I will correct them.)
Note before chapter:
For a reason, I placed the warning in the synopsis. I've read some paragraph comments that only prove to me that on this page, despite the predominance of mentally mature individuals, there are still a few fools. I appreciate any kind of comment as long as it's constructive or in good faith, whether it's a comment that complains about a topic (it has happened already, and I appreciate that; it helps me improve and understand what the audience expects) or a comment that makes the story seem bigger than it really is (it's still not a great story in my honest opinion, I have a lot to improve). But that's all I appreciate.
Positive comments help me gather the motivation to write every day, and comments with complaints help me improve. But comments that only say "boring" or just complain by saying "don't do this" (and that's it, without explanation, just a direct order), or comments that, even though the reason behind them is understandable, are not something a mentally mature person would do, like "that's the worst choice of a woman, kill her" ??? I don't know how to react. If you really think that way, as I already warned in the synopsis, this is not your novel. Go to any other story; I don't want or need you here.
Leaving that aside, enjoy the chapter, thanks to the people who leave constructive comments or just words of encouragement. :D
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After clarifying the issues related to unvaccinated people and being born with neurological diseases, the overall mood at the Cooper household dinner table relaxed again, allowing the dinner to continue with relative normality.
"Well, it's time for you two to get ready for bed," Mrs. Cooper said after checking the time for her younger children.
"But Mom, Teddy and I were—" Missy was saying when a yawn of her own interrupted her protest.
"None of that, young lady. Come on, say goodbye to Teddy and Gabe," Mrs. Cooper scolded from the table while getting up, giving her daughter a stern look to say something more.
Mrs. Cooper's stern look had achieved its goal because Missy, with her head hung in defeat, bid Teddy farewell with a tight hug, mirrored by the older girl. "See you at school tomorrow, Gabe," Missy said, parting from Teddy. She quickly left the dining room in annoyance, muttering words under her breath after shouting, "I hate this."
Her daughter's behavior didn't seem to sit well with Mrs. Cooper, as she furrowed her brows and turned angrily toward her younger son, challenging him with her gaze.
"Well," Sheldon said nervously as he stood up, "it seems it's time for me to leave. Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, it was a pleasant evening tonight," the child prodigy continued more calmly, "PJ, I'll see you at school tomorrow," he also bid me farewell with a slight nod, "Gabe, Teddy," he finished, saying goodbye with little enthusiasm, almost ignoring the presence of my siblings.
"Goodbye, Sheldon," Bob replied somewhat uncomfortable with the situation.
With the disappearance of their son into one of the corners of the house, Mrs. Cooper, with a snort through her nose, straightened up in her seat, managing to relax as she observed the somewhat awkward looks on everyone at the table.
It seemed that Mrs. Cooper wanted to say something, but a shout interrupted her. "No, Missy!" Sheldon yelled in annoyance.
"I'll go with them," Meemaw quickly said, getting up from the table, trying to escape the now awkward atmosphere. "See you later, Bob, Amy," she continued with a big smile as she bid farewell to my parents. "Aces," she continued, saying goodbye with a small nod.
Before leaving the dining room, Meemaw also bid farewell to Teddy and Gabe, pinching one's cheeks and giving the other a small hug.
Thanks to Meemaw's farewell, the atmosphere relaxed again, although Mrs. Cooper seemed somewhat embarrassed by her behavior.
"I understand," Mom said calmly, laughing as she took Mrs. Cooper's arm, relieving her of the weight she was undoubtedly feeling.
"I thank God for that too," Mrs. Cooper responded, now smiling.
"What do you understand?" Georgie asked intrigued, to which Bob and Mr. Cooper chuckled.
"The challenges of motherhood," Mrs. Cooper replied with a weak sigh of resignation.
"Oh, I see," Georgie commented, seeming to understand while thinking about something else. "Yeah, I don't want to have those problems anytime soon, so I won't be having kids anytime soon," he affirmed confidently, looking at the two women in front of him.
"Amen to that," Mr. Cooper said, amused, raising his beer for a toast and taking a sip, which prompted Mrs. Cooper to give him a playful punch in the arm as a reprimand.
"Well, Mary, George, I think it's time for us to go too," Bob said with a big smile as he got up from the table.
"Yes, Gabe needs to sleep too," Mom added, also giving my little brother a motherly look, who, still immersed in his comic book, didn't notice.
The adults said their goodbyes, thanking for the hospitality and dinner. Teddy and Gabe approached the adults' table again, waiting their turn to say goodbye to the hosts and express their thanks.
With a fist bump, which Gabe imitated, Georgie and I said our farewells without a word.
"I'll see you later, Teddy," Georgie continued, seemingly attempting to deepen his voice and straightening up to puff up his chest as much as possible. His farewell was met with only a courteous smile and a nod, and I couldn't help but laugh a little at his clumsy attempt to show off like a peacock, making the teenager embarrassed. I received a light shoulder punch from a blushing and annoyed teenager, who then hastily left, disappearing in the same direction his grandmother and brothers had gone moments earlier.
After the farewells, the entire Duncan family returned to our house just a few steps away. Following Mom's orders, Gabe quickly went to the bathroom to prepare for bed, followed by Teddy.
"Rest well, you two," Mom said tiredly as she headed to her room.
"Tomorrow, we'll start with the weights, but rest for now," Bob reminded us of what was in the garage, placing his hand on my shoulder in a parting gesture as he walked behind Mom to their room.
"Goodnight," I replied to both, also heading to my room.
Dressing in my pajamas, I prepared for my nightly routine in general. Waiting for Gabe to return from the bathroom to continue, I took the second book that House had left in my care and began reading again.
All the discussion about unvaccinated people had me thinking. If Dan didn't have MS, his symptoms could also be related to another equally dangerous but treatable disease if caught in time.
Turning the pages of the book, I finally found it: Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis*. According to the text, it's a rare disease of which there have been only a few dozen cases in the United States in the last twenty years, and all the symptoms are similar to MS, so it could easily be confused with it.
Unfortunately, the diagnosis was already made; Dan had MS.
"PJ, the bathroom is free," Gabe suddenly said, entering the room.
"Thanks, buddy," I replied as I closed the book to put it back along with my other things in my backpack, feeling a bit disheartened that I couldn't do more to help Dan.
Leaving the room and closing the door behind me so Gabe could get dressed in privacy, I went to the bathroom to finish my nighttime routine.
Upon returning to my room, Gabe was already under his blankets, ready to sleep.
"PJ," Gabe said softly as he prepared my bed to lie down.
"Yes?" I asked without turning to look at him.
"You'll wake me up tomorrow, right?" he asked with a surprisingly worried tone.
"Of course, little man. Why do you ask?" I inquired as I turned to face him.
"I thought you might not want me to go running with you anymore. I made you go slower than you probably could," Gabe said, embarrassed.
"Yeah, you made me go a bit slower," I confirmed calmly so he wouldn't worry more. "Right now, you can't keep up with my pace, Gabe," I calmly affirmed, lowering my voice to help him relax. "And that's perfectly fine," I assured him with a big smile as I approached his side of the room. "Buddy, as long as you promise to be consistent with your exercise and give it your all without hurting yourself, I promise to run with you every morning until you can keep up with me. I don't mind slowing down for now," I finished while offering my fist with a smile.
"Okay," Gabe said after a moment of thinking, finally fist-bumping me with a slight smile.
"Great, now go to sleep, Frodo," I said as I returned to my own bed.
Turning off the table lamps, I closed my eyes to sleep.
Thanks to getting a proper amount of sleep, I woke up before the alarm went off. With some stretches, I relaxed my tense muscles.
Taking my workout clothes, I began getting dressed, and when I saw that Gabe was still asleep, I used my pillow as a projectile to wake him up quickly.
Holding the pillow I had thrown at him a moment ago, Gabe had an incredulous look on his face. "Did you throw this at me?" he asked, still groggy.
"Me?" I asked, surprised. "No, not at all," I falsely denied, putting on a pained expression as if accused. Turning his head to the top of my bed, he pointed out the obvious absence of a pillow.
"Come on, no time for silly questions, get ready," I quickly dismissed, snatching my pillow from his hands and shaking his hair.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said irritably as he got up from his bed to dress in the clothes he had prepared the night before.
When Gabe finished getting ready for our run, we both left the house to start our warm-up. This time, Gabe simply copied my movements.
"Good morning, PJ," I heard Mrs. Wilson say, accompanied by her husband. "Who's that young man with you?" she asked immediately afterward.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson," I responded cheerfully to the elderly couple. "This is my brother, Gabe," I continued, gently pushing the boy to introduce himself.
Seeming to have understood the silent order, Gabe quickly put on a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, I'm Gabe Duncan."
"What a well-mannered young boy," Mrs. Wilson exclaimed excitedly. "I'm Martha Wilson, and this is my husband, George," Mrs. Wilson continued.
Mr. Wilson simply nodded at my brother. "Are you accompanying your brother on his run, young man?" Mr. Wilson asked after a moment of assessing the boy.
"Yes, sir," Gabe quickly responded, intimidated by the stern look from the elderly man.
"Good, good," Mr. Wilson nodded, still serious. "I hope you learn from your brother the same manners," he continued, pointing at Gabe.
"Don't bother the boy," Mrs. Wilson scolded her husband, tapping his arm. "Don't pay attention to him, dear; he's just a grumpy old man," she said calmly to my brother with a sweet smile.
Without saying a word, Gabe simply nodded.
"Well, kids, we'll leave you to do your thing," Mrs. Wilson continued kindly. "Have a spectacular day, you two," she said to us as she dragged her husband away, who was still glaring at Gabe in an attempt to intimidate him.
"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson, see you later," I bid farewell to the kind lady, nodding to Mr. Wilson, who imitated the gesture and continued with his wife.
"Goodbye," Gabe managed to say after Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had disappeared from our view. "That man hates me," Gabe said with a sigh.
"No, I think his neighbor bothers him a lot; it must be a kid your age," I explained calmly. "As long as you treat him with respect, you'll end up on his good side," I said, pushing him to continue. "Although his good side isn't much better," I continued in a whisper.
Again, after finishing our warm-up, Gabe and I began our run. Like last time, Gabe slowed down my pace a bit while occasionally trying to run at a much faster pace and quickly getting tired, causing him to slow down again.
When I noticed that Gabe couldn't go on anymore, I sent him inside the house and continued on my own for several more minutes.
After finishing my run, I returned to the house, grabbed the glass of water Mom had already prepared for me, and headed to the now vacant bathroom to take a shower and go through my morning routine.
Returning to the kitchen after dressing, I found Bob already ready to take me to school.
Saying goodbye to Mom, Teddy, and Gabe, I followed Bob to his awful yellow truck.
The drive was mostly silent, with no conversations between Bob and me. All the noise in the car came from the speakers as Bob played music in the background while he drove.
At the end of one song, the next one began with a guitar solo that Bob seemed to enjoy.
"Oh, yeah," Bob said as he turned up the volume of the music.
Indeed, the song had a great rhythm. Seeing Bob enjoying it while driving, I remembered the promise I had made to Gabe. Stretching to reach the radio, I lowered the volume a bit. "Hey," Bob said offended, trying to turn up the volume again.
Stopping his hand quickly, I said, "No, wait, Dad."
"What's wrong?" he asked, withdrawing his hand worriedly.
"It's nothing bad, don't worry," I said quickly, trying to reassure him. "The other day, I talked to Gabe, and he's really enjoying playing his guitars, but I think it's necessary for a professional to teach him."
The clarification seemed to put Bob at ease, but after a moment, he seemed to find something strange in what I had said.
"His guitars?" he asked seriously as he lowered the volume of the music. Quickly understanding the reason for his doubt, I replied immediately, "Yes, I decided to give him the guitars," I confirmed calmly, waiting for Bob's reaction.
Bob remained silent for a few moments as he drove on the road. "Your memory still hasn't come back, huh, son?" he asked after a moment of silence.
The question surprised me; I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't reveal my secret either.
"I know you said you're studying medicine for other reasons, but if something is bothering you and that's why you've stopped doing the things you enjoy just to study, you just have to tell me. You don't have to give away your old stuff because you're worried," he said calmly.
"No, it's not that. I just don't have an interest in continuing with music," I tried to explain quickly, nervous for some reason. "I really love medicine, helping all those people with House, knowing that someday I'll be able to save lives," I continued dreamily after regulating my emotions a bit, smiling to reassure Bob.
"PJ, if you've genuinely decided that you no longer want to make music, then I'm okay with it," Bob said, affectionately gripping my forearm. "I just want you to know, no matter if you recover your memories or if you don't do anything to try, you're still my son, and I love you no matter what, understand?" he asked as he parked; I hadn't even noticed that we had already arrived at school.
Looking into Bob's eyes for a moment, I could only respond with a simple nod, which made Bob smile. "And of course, we'll have to find a teacher for your brother. I've also heard how he plays," Bob teased playfully, winking. "Now get out of here; you have to go to class," he continued, pushing me gently to get out of the awful truck.
"See you at dinner," he said as he sped away from the school grounds.
"Goodbye," I murmured, watching the awful truck drive away.
Lost in my thoughts, I walked to my locker, nodding without paying much attention to the people who greeted me and passing by the crowd in the hallway.
When I reached my locker, a moderately strong tap on my arm snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Then what do you think, Superstar?" said an irritated Brock.
"Sorry, what?" I asked as I recovered from the surprise.
"What do you think about the school being so excited for the first game of the season?" he said, opening his arms to the surroundings.
I hadn't noticed it before, but several people were hanging posters with the school mascot they looked really excited, "Go Wolves!" a cheerful girl shouted as she passed by Brock.
"As far as I know, the previous teams constantly lost," Brock said in a hushed voice. "That's why they chose most of us in the first week of tryouts. The previous team, or at least the people who left the team, were so bad that the newcomers were a better bet," Brock continued proudly. "As long as we do better than last year, everyone at school will love us," he finished, smiling at a group of girls who either ignored him or didn't notice him at all.
"I can't wait, all the parties," Brock said with an imaginative grin. "And the girls," he continued, now lost in fantasy.
"What girls?" David immediately asked, having arrived from the hallway and being interested in the conversation.
"All the girls I'm going to meet at the parties we get invited to," Brock said arrogantly.
"Sure, buddy, as if any woman would notice you when I'm around," David countered, puffing up his chest with pride.
"Yeah, right, because that's what you are, a chick magnet," Brock said ironically, with a disgusted look on his face at our friend.
"At least more than you, yes," David responded immediately, pushing Brock.
"I don't think so," Brock said angrily as he pushed David back.
"Oh, yes, 'buddy,'" David affirmed, pushing Brock back, now also annoyed.
The two began a silent battle of annoyed glances.
Watching my friends' actions, I started to worry. They were beginning to genuinely annoy each other, and I didn't want them to fight.
From behind David, I noticed Alan walking towards us, his gaze fixed on David and Brock with intrigue on his face. The moment our eyes met, he tilted his head with a hint of doubt on his face.
Pointing at our two friends in front of me with his gaze, first at Brock and then at David, he seemed to understand something. He rolled his eyes and nodded, displaying annoyance on his face.
Quickly taking Brock by the shoulder, I pulled him away. "Brock, do you remember offering me your uncle's car at a good price? It seems like I might have the money to buy it. What if we go check it out in a few days?" I quickly improvised while taking him out of David's sight.
David, who was suddenly surprised by Brock's disappearance, didn't notice Alan, who immediately grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards the lockers. "David, buddy, do you remember the magazine I told you about yesterday?" Alan said quickly, causing David to quickly lose concentration.
"Magazine?" David asked, intrigued, apparently not remembering anything about a magazine.
"Yes, the magazine," Alan said as if it were obvious. "Oh, sorry, maybe I was talking to someone else," Alan apologized as he turned to his locker as if nothing had happened, leaving David with a puzzled look on his face.
"Sure, just tell me when you're available to check out the car, and I'll introduce you to my uncle," Brock said suddenly excited, forgetting all about his argument with David.
"Yeah, maybe on Sunday," I said, relieved that the impromptu plan seemed to work.
"Great," Brock said cheerfully, nodding vigorously.
The last of our group to arrive was Georgie, who looked upset as he walked toward us, with his brother trailing several steps behind him.
We all greeted Georgie as he angrily retrieved things from his locker.
"What's wrong?" I asked as I watched him pack things into his backpack forcefully.
"Dad didn't come to work today because he had a doctor's appointment," he said through clenched teeth.
"So?" I asked again.
"So, he had to come with his genius brother, again" Alan commented as if it were obvious.
"Yes," Georgie said, pointing at Alan in surprise.
"Hi, PJ, PJ's friends," Sheldon, who had caught up to his brother, said. "Could you guys accompany me to our classroom? It's hard for me to walk alone in the hallways, but it seems like everyone makes space for you," he continued, speaking as oddly as a nine-year-old with the intelligence of a computer does.
"Yes, of course, Sheldon. We just have to wait for everyone to get their things," I said as I turned to my friends, who were somehow making fun of Georgie.
"I'm ready," Brock said with a playful smile, taking Georgie into a side hug.
"Me too," David added, joining in the sideways hug with Georgie and Brock.
"Alan?" I asked our silent friend, who simply nodded his head and closed his locker.
Georgie, David, and Brock walked together with Georgie pulling our two friends along quickly, trying to get as far away from his younger brother as possible.
Watching David and Brock walking and teasing Georgie again, like the friends they were, Alan and I bumped fists without saying anything as we walked, with Sheldon in the middle of us.
"I can't wait for today's classes; I beat you easily yesterday," Sheldon said as we moved forward.
I said goodbye to a classmate without turning to look at Sheldon, only responding, "Yeah, I was a bit distracted in class yesterday, Sheldon." Turning to the boy, I tried my best to mimic Mr. Wilson's expression before saying, "But today, I'm going all out, buddy, so get ready."
Sheldon seemed surprised by the statement. As we reached our first-period classroom, he puffed up his chest as much as possible and tried to deepen his voice, saying, "I'm not afraid of your threats, PJ. I'm prepared," and he ran as fast as I had ever seen him run into the classroom.
"I think you scared him," Alan teased as he followed the boy inside.
Laughing at the situation, I followed my friend. Inside the classroom, Sheldon was already seated at the front, with his back completely straight and giving me his best attempt at a challenging look.
Amused by this, I decided to give a challenging look as well, or at least attempt one.
I greeted all my classmates I passed by. Many of the girls stopped me for a moment, grabbing my arm just to wish me good morning, while my male classmates extended their fists, eagerly awaiting a greeting that I happily gave.
The first few periods were interesting. Sheldon, as always, swiftly turned his body with a proud smile when answering a question faster than I did. However, he avoided turning when I did so first.
As usual, many of my classmates approached me from time to time to help them with their questions. Every day, I turned to the teacher, expecting to see a look of disapproval directed at me, but I only saw very wide smiles as they remained seated at their desks.
The day passed quickly, and in the end, I left with my friends. As we walked down the school's main hallway, we ran into Regina and her friends along with the cheerleading team. My friends quickly approached them, except for Alan, who simply walked on naturally.
"PJ," Regina suddenly said cheerfully as she separated from her friends and gave me a hug, which then turned into her just holding onto my arm while occasionally looking happily at her friends and teammates.
"Hello, Regina. I didn't see you in the cafeteria today," I greeted the girl, who once again smelled extremely nice. I had to actively concentrate on other things to avoid getting embarrassed in the middle of the hallway.
"Yeah, Courteney wanted to have a meeting with all the cheerleaders," she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You know, tomorrow is the big game," she continued while making small hops, still clinging to my arm, which translated to more math problems for me to think about. "Were you looking for me?" she asked, stopping the hopping with a strange smile and pressing even closer to my body.
"Oh, no, not really," I said without thinking, but it must have been a bad response because Regina lost her smile. I quickly thought of something to say. "But I knew it. I mean, when you guys are there, you really shine," I said with a hesitant smile, waiting for her reaction, which improved a bit but still didn't match her previous smile. "Especially you?" I said with some doubt.
The last part seemed to work because Regina gave a big smile and got even closer, pressing her body against my arm even more.
"Duncan, you forgot your notebook. Thank you very much," Molly's voice suddenly said, a classmate from the last period. "Oh, thanks, Molly. I hope it helped," I said as I took the notebook from her hands.
"Yes, it was very helpful," the girl replied as she stood in place for a moment, looking at Regina holding onto my arm. "Well, see you tomorrow in math," she said robotically after a few moments, then walked away.
"Yeah, goodbye," I responded, surprised by her attitude.
"So, Molly, huh?" Regina said, letting go of my arm.
"Yeah, we're in math class together," I replied with a cheerful smile, still feeling the warmth of her body on my arm and once again thinking of math problems to forget the feeling and the heat in my arm.
"Well, see you tomorrow, PJ. It looks like I have to go," Regina quickly said as she turned with her friends and teammates.
"All right, see you tomorrow," I replied with a cheerful smile.
"You're in trouble, buddy," Alan suddenly said, returning from talking to Gretchen.
"What? Why?" I said, surprised by his statement. "I resolved it, didn't you see?" I asked, scandalized, making my friend just smile.
A few moments later, our other three friends returned. "If they're going to cheer us on, we'll definitely win," David said confidently.
"Yeah, I'm sure of it. At least I'm going to play my best; I'll show Karen my skill," Brock said as he flexed his arms.
"Yeah, I don't think so, buddy," David said after teasing a bit, with Georgie joining in. "Yeah, after all, she'll only have eyes for me," Georgie asserted with a proud smile.
"I don't think so," Brock said, pushing Georgie a bit. "Yeah, I don't think so," David also said, giving Georgie a slight push.
Alan and I exchanged a tired glance and nodded.
Alan took David and Georgie by their arms, separating them from the argument, while I took Brock and dragged him with me.
The sudden movement surprised the three teenagers, who were more like monkeys, as we dragged them out of the school.
Mom, as always, was waiting outside the school in her car with her uniform on. After leaving Brock with a few shoulder punches, I separated from my other friends, who were also leaving with their parents.
"Hi, PJ, how was your day?" Mom asked as I got into the car.
"Oh, everything was fine. The school is starting to fill up with posters for tomorrow's game," I said as I closed the passenger door after getting in.
"Yeah, that used to happen when I was in high school. The first game of the season is important," Mom said excitedly. "And, of course, we'll come to cheer you on. Go Wolves!" she shouted out her open window, causing some of the students outside the car to cheer.
"You know, I used to be the most important part of the cheerleading squad back in my high school days, the Whammy mascot," she told me as she drove down the road. The daily trip by Mom, which I had grown accustomed to, was relatively short as she recounted some of her high school memories.
"And that's how I got kidnapped by the kids from the southern school," Mom said as she parked in the hospital parking lot.
"I don't know if the school has a mascot, but I'll make sure they don't kidnap it," I said, chuckling lightly at Mom's story.
"Well, it's important to take care of the mascot; after all, it's the most essential part of a school's team," Mom asserted as we entered the hospital doors.
"Good afternoon, Amy," Nurse Florence greeted from behind the desk, "Doctor Duncan," she said, winking playfully.
"Hello, Nurse Florence," I said, amused by her attitude.
After greeting the other nurses, I bid farewell to Mom and headed to House's office. On the way, I remembered what had dampened my mood until that moment, Dan.
Entering House's office, I found him along with the other three doctors, all looking tired with bags under their eyes.
"Oh, Duncan, fantastic news, guess what," House said ironically upbeat.
"What's going on?" I asked as I placed my backpack on one of the shelves.
"Dan escaped from his room last night," House said with a big sarcastic smile. "But that's not the best part," he continued when he saw I was about to say something. "He wanted to jump off the roof," he continued, amused, making me lose my balance for a moment. It was a harsh blow to learn that a teenager wanted to commit suicide. "It wasn't a suicide attempt," House commented, now amused by what was probably my strange reaction.
"Before you ask, I imagined that's what you thought because that was my first thought too," House explained, "no, it wasn't a suicide attempt; he was fully conscious during an episode of hallucinations," he finished, cheerfully looking at me.
The last part of his clarification hit me like a truck. "So, he doesn't have MS," I said happily.
"See, he got it immediately," House said sarcastically to the other doctors who just rolled their eyes. "You're right, Duncan, we were discussing what else it could be. The latest bet from Dr. Cameron was a sexual proposal attempt. Welcome to the conversation," he said while preparing coffee.
"I meant maybe he has neurosyphilis," Dr. Cameron quickly said seriously.
"Heh, nice cover," House commented.
"Sorry, RPR was negative," Dr. Chase denied the theory.
"We don't need a definitive test to confirm this," House said while still preparing coffee.
"Sure, didn't need one to confirm MS," Dr. Cameron commented, a bit annoyed.
"Okay, let's wait for you to run titers on four thousand viruses while this kid's brain turns to mush," Dr. House responded sarcastically.
"So the fact that he doesn't have MS is, it's really not good news after all?" Dr. Foreman asked from his seat.
"Well, it is if it's neurosyphilis. The likelihood of a false negative on an RPR test, how much is it, Duncan?" House asked, "It must be in your book," he commented lightly.
"Thirty percent," I replied.
"Correct, and the likelihood of a 16-year-old having sex, roughly one hundred and twenty percent," he said as he handed a cup of coffee to Dr. Foreman, who thanked him with a nod.
"I'll start him on IV penicillin," Dr. Cameron said proudly.
"We're not going to wait for that," House denied, moving away from the table again. "The most effective way to deliver the drug is right into his brain via the spine," he said, causing Dr. Foreman to place his cup on the table in disgust.
"We can't," he said, raising his voice. "In a cramped space like the brain, increased intracranial pressure from a high-volume drug like penicillin could herniate his brainstem and kill him," he continued, making sure the other doctors in the room understood the seriousness. "No neurologist in his right mind would recommend that," he finished, looking at House with annoyance.
"Show of hands. Who thinks I'm not in my right mind?" House said ironically, "and who thinks I forgot this fairly basic neurological fact?" he asked again, shaking his head slightly, "who thinks there's a third option?" seeing that no one said anything, he asked again.
Dr. Foreman got up from his chair and walked around the room a bit, making a frustrated sound as he passed by me.
Dr. Chase raised his hand, making everyone turn to look at him, especially me; maybe he was thinking the same thing I was.
"Very good, what's the third choice?" House asked.
"No idea, you just asked if I thought there was one," Dr. Chase said, making all of us lower our heads in disappointment.
"The patient has a shunt in his brain. There'll be no increased pressure; we can put as much penicillin into his body as we want," Dr. Foreman suddenly suggested.
"Excellent, inject him through a lumbar puncture," House accepted.
I didn't like the idea; if Dan had Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis, penicillin wouldn't work. It might even make things worse; it could kill him.
"Wait," House suddenly said, making everyone look at him intrigued. "Duncan, what were you thinking?" he asked as he approached me.
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, right now, what were you thinking? You arrived at a diagnosis," he said, getting closer and urging me to speak.
Looking at Dr. Foreman, who was staring at me with annoyance, I hesitated before speaking a word, avoiding his gaze; I finally decided, "Well, I thought about the girl from yesterday," I said, looking into his eyes.
"Yes," House said ironically, "the stupid mother, right? What about her?" he asked, stepping back.
"Well, I was thinking, you know, we have that bet," I said, nodding towards Dr. Foreman.
"Yes, I remember, you too, right, Foreman?" House said ironically.
"Yes," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed.
"I was thinking, what if that girl hadn't received her vaccines, by some stroke of luck, she manages to grow up, has a child, and for some reason, gives it up for adoption," I said, now avoiding the eyes of House with some embarrassment due to so many assumptions, "possibly this child did receive their vaccines, but also a mutated disease that only shows symptoms sixteen years later," I continued, still with my head down, not daring to look at the other doctors, especially Foreman.
"So, what's your diagnosis, Duncan?" Dr. House asked seriously.
"Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis," I said, lifting my head and seeing how surprised the other doctors were, except House, who looked at me with a wide smile. "I knew it was a good idea to have you here," he said excitedly.
"You can't believe that, House," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed.
"It's almost impossible," House said as he nodded slowly, placing his hand over his chest while smiling. "How many cases are there, Duncan?" he asked, still smiling.
"Close to twenty cases in the United States," I replied.
With a mocking laugh, Dr. Foreman said, "Do you really believe that nonsense?" as he approached, increasingly offended.
"It's just a diagnostic theory," I quickly tried to defend myself.
"Don't speak, kid; the adults are discussing," Dr. Foreman said, annoyed. "We need to give him penicillin," he continued, aggressively approaching a contemplative House.
After a few moments, House nodded, "Fine, give him penicillin. If it's Subacute Sclerosing Panencephalitis, we can see if Duncan was right after a few hours," he said as he walked out of the office. "Let's go, kid," he finished, heading out.
"And that's the difference between a real doctor and a kid who just reads a lot of books," Dr. Foreman said, puffing out his chest.
I felt humiliated, clenched my fists tightly, and gritted my teeth; Dr. Chase and Dr. Cameron seemed to have noticed because they approached slowly, with some intention to intervene.
"So, you won't mind putting your money on the line, oh great doctor," I said after a moment, with anger.
"What?" Dr. Foreman asked, half amused and half offended. "Please, kid, don't bother me," he continued as he turned to leave the room.
"Six hundred dollars," I said, making him turn around with intrigue. "Besides the hundred we had already bet, I still have about six hundred dollars. What do you say, Hippocrates?" I asked, trying to challenge his pride with a sarcastic joke.
Dr. Foreman quickly turned around, entered the room, and took a few steps closer, "a thousand dollars," he said, raising his voice after calming down a bit.
Surprised, I shook my head, "I don't have that money," I said.
"I don't care; if you win, you'll get a thousand dollars. If I win, you leave the hospital," he said, furrowing his brow.
"What?" I asked, suddenly surprised by his offer.
"Come on, Foreman, don't be an idiot," Dr. Cameron said, trying to protect me.
"Fine, I'm not interested. You think you can make decisions like an adult, you must face the consequences, or keep quiet," he said as he turned to leave.
Dr. Foreman was about to leave, "Okay!" I said, interrupting him at the doorway before he left. Dodging Chase, I walked a few steps closer to Dr. Foreman. "I accept," I said as I extended my hand.
"Don't do this, PJ, it's not worth it," Chase said, with his hand on my shoulder, trying to change my mind.
He almost succeeded; I really wasn't one hundred percent sure of my diagnosis, but it hurt my pride, and honestly, I wasn't thinking it through, nor did I want to.
Smiling, Foreman shook my hand firmly, "by the end of the day, I'll personally escort you out of the hospital," he said, pulling me slightly closer. "Say your goodbyes because today will be the last day we see you here," he said, almost whispering in my ear.
Taking my hand back, I approached him even closer and said, "I don't think so. By the end of the day, I'll have an additional eleven hundred dollars, and you'll understand the difference between a mediocre doctor and a kid who reads a lot of books." Bumping his shoulder, I quickly left the room; I had never really fought before, and I didn't want my first time to be with a man who was currently larger than me.
Turning through the door frame, I quickly left the office to catch up with House, almost stumbling into him because he was waiting, leaning against the wall next to the office.
With a playful smile on his face, he separated himself from the wall, leaning on his cane as he walked. "I'm not sure if it's a brave move or a stupid one, kid," he said, shaking his head with amusement.
"I hope you don't interfere with the outcome of the bet, House," suddenly said Dr. Foreman, who had just come out of the office at that moment.
House simply grinned and gave Foreman a playful smile, reaching for his chest before returning to his walk.
I quickly moved away from House's office door and followed him down the hallway.
"Do you think I'm going to lose?" I asked, concerned.
"I don't know yet; we'll see in a few hours. Right now, it's clinic time," he said with mock enthusiasm as he walked.
"Why not go and ask the parents now? We can spare Dan the pain," I quickly suggested as I caught up with him.
"Duncan, I like your theory, but for now, we'll stick with syphilis. If we ask the parents now, they'll probably lie. But I'll tell you this: if you were right, and I didn't support you, I'll give you all the money I win from the bets. After all, you backed me up," he said with feigned kindness, tilting slightly like a gentleman.
We continued down the hallways until we reached the outpatient clinic.
"Hello, Nurse Fryday," I greeted the nurse with a friendly smile while House grabbed one of the files.
"Send it," House said, pointing to the file in his hand as he walked into one of the examination rooms.
"Yes, sir," Nurse Fryday replied, mimicking a soldier. "Hi PJ, how are you?" she asked, changing her expression to a cheerful one.
"I'm fine, thanks," I replied, slightly lying.
"Something's bothering you," the nurse said inquisitively.
Glancing around to make sure no one was listening, I noticed House in the pharmacy talking to the pharmacist. "Well, the thing is..." I explained to Nurse Fryday about the bet with Foreman silently while pretending to read a file on her desk, and she pretended to fill out some paperwork.
"That darn doctor, how can he treat you like that? He'll see, I'll give him a piece of my mind," she said angrily, slamming the papers she had been pretending to write on down on her desk and standing up.
"No!" I exclaimed, but I immediately corrected myself, realizing where I was. "No, it's not necessary, Fryday. Don't get yourself in trouble because of me," I said quietly, trying to calm her down.
"You're the only one who treats us well around here, and now, because of that stick-in-the-mud doctor, you might have to leave," the nurse said, still upset.
"We don't know that yet. I think Dr. House trusts my diagnosis, but we have to wait for the tests to be done," I said, managing to calm the nurse down a little more.
"Ah, yes, Dr. House," she said, sighing with annoyance. "Dr. House!" she exclaimed after a moment, remembering her duties. "Your patient is in there. I'll send him right in," she urged me to go to the examination room.
Entering the room, I found House with a magazine over his face, leaning back in a chair. "Have you finished talking to your girlfriend? She's much older than you, Duncan; she could go to jail for that," he said sarcastically as he straightened up.
"Ha-ha," I gave a fake laugh at his joke.
A moment later, the door to the examination room was knocked on. "It's Juliet," House said ironically. "Come in!" he shouted.
The door opened with Nurse Fryday on the other side, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Dr. House. Here's your patient," she said, letting the first patient of the day in and quickly closing the door behind her.
"To work, Romeo," House said without getting up from his chair.
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, for now, you're going to conduct the exams. If I think you're wrong about something, I'll interrupt, but for now, it's your job," House said as he handed me the patient's file.
As time passed, the first patient turned out to be a pregnant woman who left, albeit surprised by the news, excited about it.
"That's strange, they usually leave more annoyed," House remarked when he saw her go.
"Probably because of her doctor," I mumbled under my breath as I finished filling out the files as House had shown me.
A few more patients came in, with colds, infections, and one who wanted drugs, a type two, as House called them.
Reading the last file I took from Nurse Fryday's desk, I noticed something interesting. "House, look at this," I said as I handed him his file.
"Is he from Waco?" House asked, surprised after reading the file. "This could be interesting. Have a seat," he continued, and a moment later, the door was knocked on. "Come in!" House called.
After Nurse Fryday entered, a man walked in with a slight limp.
"Take a seat," House said, pointing to the examination bed.
The man approached the bed and, when he saw me sitting in the chair next to it, he nodded and greeted me before sitting down.
"Now, let me guess, whatever brings you here has to do with your leg, show it to me," House said, pretending to be kind.
"Okay," the man said after thinking for a moment.
He stood up again, unbuttoned his pants, lowered them to his ankles, pulled one leg out, and then pulled his pants back up before sitting back down, revealing a wound.
House looked at it for a moment, made a sound of pain, and said, "It's infected, with a really big hole, like you stuck a nail in it to relieve the pressure."
"I wouldn't do that," the man replied, offended.
"Although the wound is irregular, not cylindrical, it's shaped like a triangle, so not a nail," House said as he got closer to the wound. "Steak knife?" he asked, intrigued.
After thinking for a moment, the man embarrassedly said, "Wife's nail file," avoiding eye contact with House and me.
"Type four," House muttered under his breath, leaning towards me.
"Nail file," he said louder so the man could hear. "Yeah, pain'll make you do stupid things," House continued as he pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket. "Something to take the edge off?" he asked, offering a pill to the patient, who accepted it, saying, "Yeah."
"Cheers," House said as he took his pill, an action the man mimicked.
"So, do you have family here in Medford?" House asked, disguising the question as simple curiosity.
"No," the man replied immediately.
"Here on work?" House asked again, this time without trying to disguise the question.
"No, why are you..." the patient was asking, but House interrupted him.
"Does your penis hurt?" House quickly asked with seriousness.
I almost let out a small laugh, but I managed to disguise it with a slight cough.
"No," the man quickly replied, offended. "What? Should it?" he asked, now concerned.
"No, just thought I'd toss you a really inappropriate question," House said with a smile. "Your lawyer's gonna love it," he continued sarcastically.
"Why would I want to sue you? I want you to treat me," the patient suddenly asked, very offended.
"You're from Waco, Texas, right?" House asked ironically.
"Yes," the irritated patient replied.
"Now, why would you drive one hour to get treatment for a condition that a sixteen-year-old could diagnose? It's the free-flowing pus that's the tip-off," House said, smiling slightly at me.
"I was in town," the man defended himself.
"Not for family, not for work," House said, shaking his head. "You drove one hour to a walk-in clinic; you passed two hospitals on the road," House stated, mocking the man. "Now, either you have a problem with those hospitals, or they have a problem with you," he continued his monologue. "My guess is that you've sued half the doctors in Waco, and the rest are now refusing to treat you," he asserted, making the man's face turn serious as he tried not to show any expression. "It's ironic, isn't it? It's like the boy who sued wolf," House laughed at the irony. "You know what? I bet we have a doctor here named Wolfe," he commented sarcastically. "How perfect would that be? I'm gonna page him," he said as he put his hand in his pocket.
"Okay, you know what?" the man said as he stood up. "Thank you, I'm gonna find a doctor to take care of this," he continued, pointing to his leg.
"I didn't say I wouldn't treat you," House said quickly, preventing the patient from doing anything else. "We'll drain your knee, run some lab work, fix you right up," House continued excitedly.
"Why would you do that?" the patient asked, surprised.
"I'm a people person," House said with false kindness.
Doing what he told him took a few minutes. House took blood samples from the patient, and he himself showed the way out of the examination room after prescribing some medication.
"We're going to eat," House said to Nurse Fryday as he left the filled-out file on the desk along with the lab orders.
"Alright," Nurse Fryday said as she wrote something down on a piece of paper.
House left the clinic leaning on his cane. "Come on, Duncan," he said, still walking.
"See you later, PJ," Nurse Fryday said kindly.
"Goodbye," I replied as I quickly followed House.
"Where are we going? The cafeteria is the other way," I said when I caught up with him.
"We're not going to the cafeteria just yet," House said as we reached the elevators. "We're going to find someone," he continued, calling an elevator.
Exiting the elevator on another floor, we continued walking until we reached another room like the clinic on the previous floor.
"Oncology?", I asked, looking at the sign on the door.
"Yep," House nodded, "Wilson!" he shouted from the room's doorway.
A doctor in a lab coat a few steps away from us turned his head and greeted House with a nod before bidding farewell to the person he was talking to and approaching us. "Hello, House, you must be PJ, pleased to meet you, James Wilson," the man said, offering his hand, which I shook firmly.
"Yes, yes, Wilson, Duncan, let's go eat, I'm starving," House said, turning and walking out of the room.
Wilson, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at House's behavior, gestured silently with his hands for us to follow House.
"Surely a patient will sue me," House said with amusement as he called for the elevator we had taken a few moments ago.
"What?" Wilson asked, taken by surprise.
"Yes, he came in for an infection..." House recounted the story while we were in the elevator.
"You actually treated him?" Wilson asked incredulously as we exited the elevator.
"All I know is that he sued some doctors. Who am I to assume that they didn't have it coming to them?" House said, trying to reassure his friend, noticing a woman walking down the hallway in our direction.
"The cutest little tennis outfit, my God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack," House said when the woman was close enough to hear him, with a mischievous smile.
The woman, whom House now pretended to have just noticed, simply rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh my, I didn't see you there, that is so embarrassing," House said with feigned remorse.
"How's your hooker doing?" the woman asked, ignoring House's attitude.
"Oh, sweet of you to ask. Funny story, she was going to be a hospital administrator but hated having to screw people like that," House said sarcastically.
"I heard you found her on the roof," the woman responded sarcastically.
"You have very acute hearing," House said ironically.
"You notified the parents?" the woman asked, now much more serious.
"In due course, of course," House affirmed.
"And is there a paternity bet on the father of the patient?" the woman asked, frowning at House.
"Doesn't sound like me," House said, surprised.
"Well, it does actually, but that doesn't mean you're guilty," Wilson said, supporting House.
I couldn't help but chuckle a bit; I didn't know many people who could talk to House like that. Wilson was funny.
Noticing my presence, the woman looked intrigued and seemed like she wanted to say something, but House quickly interrupted her.
"You think?" he asked, referring to the bet, positioning himself between her and me.
"I saw the parents in the lobby; smart money is obviously on the father," the woman said, apparently forgetting my presence behind House.
"My guy knows a guy who can get you in for a hundred bucks," House leaned in a bit to whisper to the woman.
"Fine. You tell your guy if I win, you attend the faculty symposium, and you wear a tie," the woman whispered back.
"And if I win, no clinic hours for a week," House offered as he straightened up.
"My guy will call your guy," the woman finished as she walked away.
House, being House, watched the woman's rear end until she disappeared around a corner.
"She's very good at her job," Wilson said, avoiding House's gaze. "I got you another hundred dollars, kid," House said as he moved away from Wilson and me.
Wilson and I followed House to the cafeteria, where each of us ordered a sandwich and coffee.
Wilson was talking to us about one of his patients when House saw Dan's parents walking toward us.
"Oh crap," House muttered, "another reason I don't like meeting patients," he continued, leaning in with Wilson. "If they don't know what you look like, they can't yell at you," he added, noticing that the parents were getting closer. "Here we go," he said, taking a sip of his coffee when the parents were only a few steps away.
"How can you just sit there?" Dan's mother asked, annoyed, as she placed a coffee cup on the table.
"If I eat standing up, I spill," House responded ironically.
"Our son is dying, and you could care less? We're going through hell; you're doing nothing?" Dan's father said, approaching House menacingly, also placing his cup on the table and gripping the edge of it tightly.
"I'm sorry; you need to vent, I understand," House said in a falsely friendly tone.
"Don't be condescending," the father spat out angrily. "You haven't checked in on him once," he continued, offended.
Staring at the parents for a moment, House took a deep breath and said, "Blood pressure's 110/70, the shunt is patent, well-placed in the right lateral ventricle, the EKG shows a normal QRS with deep wave inversions throughout both limb and pericardial leads. LFTs are elevated but only twice the normal range."
Looking at the parents with a hint of pity, House added, "Go hold his hand," calmly. "Go on; I'll bus your tray," he finished, pointing at the parents' cardboard cups. They nodded, embraced each other, and turned to leave, holding hands.
As soon as Dan's parents were out of sight, House picked up both cardboard cups with a napkin. "Got any sample bags on you?" House asked, holding the cups.
"I don't believe you," Wilson said incredulously. "You're going to run DNA tests?" he asked, offended with House.
"Their son is deathly ill. I know it's terrible, but the fact is, if I don't keep busy with trivial things like this, I'm afraid I might start to cry," House said, standing up from his chair. "Let's go, kid, take these to the lab to win the bet," House continued, placing the cups on a tray and grabbing his cane.
"You're an ass," Wilson said, offended.
"Yeah? You want to double the bet?" House asked with a smug smile on his face.
After a moment of thought, Wilson, who had been staring at the cups, nodded. "Fine, six hundred dollars," House said with a smile as he walked away.
"I'm starting to regret offering you my share of the winnings, kid. This is the last time; in the next bets, we'll each keep our own," House said, advancing with the tray and cups in the hand opposite his cane.
"Next bets?" I asked. "Does that mean you think I'll beat Dr. Foreman?" I continued, more excited.
"I don't think; now I'm more certain. A moment ago, I received a page. Dan didn't respond well to penicillin. You were right. Now, we just need to hit the liars with evidence," House said with a big smile on his face, reaching a desk with nurses. House asked for sample bags, carefully placed the two cups inside, took a marker from the nurse, and wrote something on each cup.
"Let's go, kid," he said as he moved again.
In a room in front of monitors, Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron were watching screens.
Faking a cough, House entered the room. "So, what happened?" he asked, leaning on one of the desks.
"Dan didn't respond well to the penicillin treatment," Foreman said through clenched teeth, ignoring my presence.
"Does that mean PJ was right?" Dr. Cameron asked with intrigue.
"I don't know yet, that's why I brought these," House said as he displayed the cups. "Run DNA on these." One of the bags had 'Daddy?' written on it, and the other had 'Mommy?'.
"What's this?" Dr. Cameron asked intrigued as she took the cups from House's hands.
"Parents' coffee cups," House replied casually.
"I can't believe you—" Dr. Cameron was saying, but House interrupted her. "I've had this conversation once already," he quickly cut her off. "If you've got something else to do, do it. Otherwise, do this," House ordered, avoiding any further discussion.
"I can't believe you're doing this just for a bet," Dr. Foreman said.
"What's the matter, Foreman, afraid of losing twelve hundred dollars?" House asked teasingly.
"We still don't know if the kid was right," Foreman quickly defended himself.
"So, nothing's stopping us from going double or nothing, right?" House asked as he approached Dr. Foreman challengingly.
Annoyed once again, Dr. Foreman nodded. "Fine, but when you lose, don't come crying to me," Foreman said as he took the cups from Dr. Cameron.
"I got you another hundred, kid," House said cheerfully.
"Come on, we still have a few more hours before you have to leave," House said as he left the room. Several steps before reaching House's office, the patient we had seen a few hours ago approached, carrying some documents.
"Dr. House," the man greeted, reaching House's side as he continued to walk.
"Hey! I was wondering when you'd be back. I certainly didn't expect you on the same day; only an idiotic lawyer would do something that fast," House said, shaking his head in amusement. "Got some papers for me?" he asked nonchalantly.
"You've caused me considerable mental distress," the man said, clearly unfazed.
"I certainly hope so," House joked, turning to face the man. "What? Too cheap to have your lawyer serve it for you, or is it more fun this way?" House asked playfully as he took the papers offered by the man.
"You have gonorrhea," House said seriously.
"You're just trying to scare me," the man said, attempting to sound braver than his shaky voice allowed.
"It's reportable, you know, a public health issue," House said, lowering his voice to further intimidate the man.
"I'll be sure to let my wife know," the man responded, maintaining his facade of fearlessness.
"Oh, don't bother yourself; the state will call for you," House said sarcastically. "Look, if you're clean, I'm sure this will all blow over, no big deal," House said calmly with a friendly smile as he pressed the elevator button. "There's an easy way to find out; get one of your doctors to run a test," he concluded with a malicious grin.
The man's reaction, his quick attempt to retrieve the papers, which House skillfully avoided, caused me to have a small and involuntary fit of laughter, further embarrassing the already ashamed man.
"Uh-uh, these are mine now," House said, gripping the papers more firmly. "I'll see you in court," he concluded sarcastically as he stepped into the elevator, with me following behind.
Upon reaching his office, House placed the papers on his desk as he sat down.
"How has this learning experience been for you these last few days?" House asked, leaning on his hands on the desk more seriously than I had ever seen him in these few days I've known him.
"Well, I've learned a lot, and the books are good," I said as I took a seat in front of him.
"Yes, books are good, but there are better books elsewhere," House said, relaxing his posture and leaning back in his chair.
"Yes, I can imagine, but it seems to me that all this experience can help me. I want to go to Harvard, and all of this would look good on my application," I said as I also relaxed my posture. "A recommendation letter from a doctor would also look good," I continued, subtly hinting at my request.
Upon hearing my request, House simply chuckled a bit and tapped his chest again.
"I've noticed you've been touching your chest all day today. Are you feeling okay?" I asked as I stood up.
House, upon hearing my question, lost his smile and looked at me incredulously. "How old do you think I am?" he asked, offended.
Before I could respond, the door to House's office was opened again, and the three doctors who worked under House entered one after the other.
"From the look on your face, I can deduce that Foreman owes you money," House said with a proud smile. "So, is Duncan right?" House asked, leaning over his desk.
"None of them is his biological parent," Dr. Chase said, nodding cheerfully and giving me a wide smile.
"That only proves they were right about the paternity, not the child's diagnosis," Foreman said, visibly annoyed.
"True, but if I were you, I'd be withdrawing money from my savings account right now," House said sarcastically as he stood up. "Come on, Duncan, we have some faces to hit with the truth," he continued as he left the room.
Quickly exiting the office, I followed House through the hospital corridors to the patients' rooms. In Dan's room, Dan was sleeping without his parents in sight.
"If you were concerned parents and found out that the last thing the doctors did to help your child made him worse, what would you do?" House asked to himself.
"Transfer him to another hospital?" I suggested without thinking.
"Yes," House confirmed. "Let's go to Cuddy's office," House continued, leaving faster than a man with a cane should be walking.
As we reached the top floor of the hospital, we entered a larger office where we saw Dan's parents arguing with the woman House had spoken to a few minutes ago.
"You idiots! You lied to me!" House said, entering the office and surprising everyone present.
"We didn't lie about anything," the man said angrily. "You, on the other hand, accused us of molesting our son," he continued, pointing at House.
"Perfect," the woman, whom I now knew was Cuddy, said incredulously.
"Can we get off my screw-ups and focus on theirs? Theirs is bigger," House defended himself, pointing at the couple. "You're not Dan's parents," he accused them irritably.
"We are his parents," the woman quickly defended herself, causing House to roll his eyes in annoyance.
"He was adopted," the man admitted angrily after seeing House's eye-rolling. "He doesn't need to know," the man quickly clarified.
"But I do," House said, raising his voice in anger.
"Adoption makes him just as much his—" Cuddy was saying until House interrupted him.
"Listen, when we were taking his medical history, were you confused? Did you think we were looking for a genetic clue to his condition, or did you think we were trying to ascertain who loves him the most in the whole wide world?" House asked with a furrowed brow.
"How did you find out about this?" Cuddy asked, intrigued.
"I sampled their DNA," House simply replied.
"We didn't give you any DNA," the man said, surprised and frowning.
"Your coffee cups from the cafeteria," House clarified as if it were obvious.
"You can't do that!" Cuddy exclaimed, both surprised and annoyed.
"Again, why are we getting hung up on what I did?" House said, pretending not to understand the gravity of the situation. "Your medical history is useless," House accused the parents.
"No, we gave you a detailed history of his biological mother," the man denied, annoyed.
"Her history: non-smoker, good health, low cholesterol, no blood pressure problems," the woman quickly repeated as if it were something she knew by heart.
"Dan was adopted two weeks after he was born," the man said, shaking his head angrily. "You have his history," he continued, pointing at House. "There's nothing you need to know that we didn't tell you," the man said, increasingly upset.
Throughout the man's monologue, House just nodded, turning towards me and smiling at the end.
"Sounds reasonable," Cuddy said, nodding in agreement. "Well, if you want to transfer your boy, that is your choice, but I still think it's the wrong—" Cuddy was saying until House interrupted her. "She wasn't vaccinated, right?" he said seriously.
"Dan was vaccinated at 6 months," the man replied, not understanding the reason for the question.
"Do you know why kids get vaccinated at 6 months? Because before that, they are protected by their biological mother's immune system," House said, walking closer to the couple. "So, was she vaccinated?" he asked again seriously.
"No," the woman replied this time with shame in her voice. "Is that why Dan is sick?" she asked, holding back tears.
"Yes, I'm sure," House said, now more calmly.
"What does my son have, doctor?" asked a very pale and scared father.
House simply stepped aside and nodded his head, signaling me to speak.
"Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis," I said quickly. Cuddy, who hadn't noticed my presence due to all the commotion, looked at me with great doubt on her face. "It's a progressive neurological disorder of children and young adults that affects the central nervous system; basically, it's a mutated virus," I finished my explanation.
"I think this diagnosis is correct. I recommend not transferring Dan now that we know what he has. In a few minutes, Dr. House and his team will tell you how they are going to treat Dan, if you still want to keep him in this hospital," Cuddy said, putting a smile on her face.
"Yes, we'll leave Dan here," the man said after a few moments of thinking. After bidding goodbye and thanking, the couple left the office.
When the couple disappeared from our sight, Cuddy lost her friendly smile. "Who the hell is this kid?" she asked angrily.
Her question caught me off guard. "I thought you discussed it with the hospital director?" I asked House, annoyed.
"I am the hospital director, and I never heard anything about a child attending to patients' families. What do you think you're doing, House?" she said, furrowing her brow.
"He's an interesting kid—" House was saying, but Cuddy interrupted him. "Interesting?! Interesting?" she asked, shouting, "That's what you have to say, an interesting kid?" the hospital director asked angrily.
"It was his idea," House said, trying to find a solution to Cuddy's annoyance.
"His idea? What, talking to the parents?" the surprised woman asked.
"No, not at all. It was entirely his diagnosis, Sub-acute Sclerosing Pan-encephalitis. He discovered it. That's what I mean when I say he's interesting," House said.
"So, he's a genius kid. That doesn't mean we're going to put—" the furious woman was saying until House interrupted her. "Read this," he said as he handed her a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his chest, "a few days ago, I show him about some research from my former professor, Donnald Thomas. He studied data that would take a recent graduate days to understand and when he came back the next day, he sent the professor a letter. This is what the professor wrote in response," he continued, urging her to read the letter.
"You read my correspondence?" I asked, both surprised and annoyed.
"It's for you, but it's addressed to me," House said, dismissing my objections.
Still upset, Cuddy began to read the letter, gradually changing her expression.
"I think that research will win the Nobel Prize this year," House said, leaning back in his chair.
"But here it says—" Cuddy was saying until House interrupted her again. "I know what it says, but I don't think he will go," House said confidently.
"Alright, but I'll set some limits," Cuddy said, handing the letter back to House and leaning over her desk. "He won't have the right to prescribe anything or have access to medications in general. He can use the equipment, but only if someone is supervising him. If he wants to make diagnoses, that's fine with me, but only if you make sure it makes sense, and we also need a letter from his guardian," the woman continued, clasping her hands in front of her face. "Do you understand, House?" she asked seriously.
"Yes," House nodded with a smile.
"And you'll have to do more clinic hours per week," Cuddy added, wiping the smile off House's face.
Extending her hand to me, "Nice to meet you, PJ Duncan. My name is Lisa Cuddy. If you need anything from this hospital for your research, you'll have to come and ask me, not House, not anyone else, just me. If House bothers you in any way, come to me. Are we clear?" she asked authoritatively, shaking her hand and nodding slowly.
"Very well, then welcome to the hospital. I'll make sure to get you a credential for tomorrow," she said after shaking my hand.
---
Author's Thoughts:
As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.
As promised last week, this chapter is long, almost 11.5k words of pure storytelling.
Now, a few things I'd like to clarify:
1. If anyone is bothered by how things played out for the MC to obtain the money, I apologize. I believe I did well in portraying the personalities of Dr. Foreman and Dr. House, reacting to how the MC acts. In the series, Foreman, in my opinion, has an ego problem, which I used to push the MC to bet more.
2. The MC's behavior may not seem like that of an adult, but it's something I'm trying. Since the first date with Regina, the MC has been acting more and more like a teenager. It may not be explicitly mentioned in the story (or maybe it will be), but as I see it, it's as if PJ's teenage body subconsciously affects the actions of an adult mind.
3. The penicillin in this chapter, I'm not sure if what I claimed is true, but as I mentioned at the beginning of this section, I'm not a doctor.
4. I researched, and it turns out that a DNA test takes much longer than a few minutes, but let's all together ignore this insignificant (not at all insignificant) detail and continue as if nothing strange is happening.
5. I want to remind those who read the note from several chapters ago and inform those who didn't: Regina is definitely not the final choice for the MC's partner, as specified in the novel's synopsis. There won't be a harem, but that doesn't prevent the MC, like anyone in the real world, from having more than one girlfriend in their life. I want the MC to experience life and thereby grow to be more "complete." I don't know, I want character development (dreams that might work).
What do you think the letter says?????? (It's easy to guess; I'll read theories :D).
It's almost time for the game; I'm nervous. I still don't know how it's going to turn out. Writing a fight scene or a sports scene seems very difficult to me. I've been researching other works to get an idea, but it still seems like the hardest part of this novel so far. What am I going to do with this novel?
I think that's it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.
Thank you for reading :D.
P.S.: If you're the person who left those unhelpful comments, I'd like to remind you, don't read my novel. Look for one that suits your taste or write your own novel.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone