All language subtitles for House.S01E06.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

[menacing voice]
Cat got your tongue?

Nah. You killed the cat.
Cut off its head.

(woman)
Need to take a look at this.

Mom. Mom.

Mom. It's okay.

Just a couple of questions

before I can authorize

extending her disability
benefits.

I don't like her.
She's fat.

I could lose
a little weight.

You all right?

Actually, before she signs--

I killed the cat.
Lots of blood.

It's okay.

I have a couple
of questions

about some of these dates.

The first diagnosis--

Schizophrenia.

Dr. Walters,
May 11 last year.

The letter's
in the medical file.

And April 6th.

That was the last day
she worked

but she received
unemployment benefits

for that week.

We fixed that.
I know we did.

We returned the money.

That's the cancelled check.

Not the real one.
You know, it's a copy.

And you're the dependent.

No. That's my little brother.

I'm 18. Just helpin' out.

You're all set.

Just need a signature.

[menacing voice]
Hey, I'm talkin' to you.

The cat's first.

Now it's your turn, Lucy.

Shut up.
Shut up, shut up.

It's okay.
She just--

She just needs a little water.
That's all.

I'll go get it.

Just hold on, okay?

When she comes back,
sign it.

And we're going to be done.

We need this, okay?
Please.

The voices.

The voices aren't real.

What?

Mom.

Mom?

Mom.

Mom, mom!

[siren]

(man over radio)
38-year-old Caucasian woman.

Status--post-respiratory arrest
in the field.

Intubated.
Oxygenating poorly.

(man over intercom)
Dr. Gregory House,

please call Dr. Cuddy
at extension 3731.

This is a good hospital?

Depends what you mean
by good.

I like these chairs.

How is she?
Stable. Okay.

Your mom had a small
pulmonary embolism.

Blood clot
that got stuck in her lungs.

Blocked the oxygen.

But the pain started
in her leg.

Where the clot started.
Her calf.

That's called
a deep vein thrombosis.

Basically a bigger clot.

It never hurt there before.
I would have noticed.

A piece of that broke off,
went up the vein,

through her heart,

and blocked the blood flow
to her lungs.

No blood flow,
no oxygen.

Is your dad here?

I have some things
I need to talk to him about.

Uh, my dad's running
a little late.

He's dead.
Just talk to me.

I take care of her.
All right.

Your mom's
blood alcohol was .12,

10:30 in the morning.

I gave it to her.

Two ounces of vodka.
It cools her out.

But that's the first
since Monday.

That was...three days ago.

I've been real careful.

She hears voices.

She's schizophrenic.

Explains the DVT.

The alcohol
makes her pass out,

she's immobile
for long periods--
That doesn't happen.

She's not an alcoholic.

She only drinks
when you give it to her.

We put her
on blood thinners.

You can probably
take her home tomorrow.

It's not the alcohol.
It's got to be something else.

Of course it's the alcohol!

Hello!

This guy's
a professional doctor.

Plays golf and everything,
I bet.

He's not going
to tell you

your mom's an alcoholic
without proof.

I'm sure he scoped for varices,
checked her esophagus,

ran all kinds of blood tests.

Doctors like this
don't make assumptions.

They do the work.

I'd be happy to refer you
the case, Dr. House.

You seem
so interested.
What case?

It's over.
You're sending her home.

How old is she?

You're a doctor?
Own my own stethoscope.

Did I ask you how old she was?
I forget.

38-year-old woman

with no previous symptoms
or history

presents with Deep Vein
Thrombosis.

How did she get it?

Oral contraceptives,
smoking,

diabetes, obesity.

What's the point here?

A DVT's a DVT.

Put her on IV Heparin
to prevent future clots.

What's the big mystery?

Fine. You're all sleepy.
You need a clue.

She's 38 years old.

She's 20 years too young
to get a Deep Vein Thrombosis.

I treated
a 12-year-old girl once.

Soccer player.
She got kicked in the leg.

(House)
There was no trauma.
None of the risk factors.

You took a history.

I have some notes.

Not mine,
but reliable, I think,

for the purposes
of this discussion.

As for the immobility,

she's real active right now,
of course.

Paranoia keeps her limber.

Paranoia?

Oh yeah,
she's schizophrenic.

And her kid wrote this,
so it might be a little biased.

You know, having to take care
of his nutso mom and all.

You think
there's a connection?

Do we include schizophrenia

in the differential for DVT?

Well--

The answer is no.

Abnormal dopaminergic pathways
in the brain

do not cause blood clots.

Schizophrenia is not
the cause of DVT.

On the other hand,

we don't really know anything
about schizophrenia.

So maybe it is connected.

Well, schizophrenia
explains one mystery:

why you're so fascinated
by a woman

with a bump in her leg.

It's like Picasso deciding
to whitewash a fence.

Thanks. I'm more
of a LeRoy Neiman man.

And it is only
about the DVT.

She's 38 years old!
Right.

Solve this one and you're
on your way to Stockholm.

We don't even know
how to treat it.

Come on.
Fumigation of the vagina?

A little louder.

I don't think everyone
heard you.

2,000 years ago,

that's how Galen
treated schizophrenics.

The Marcus Welby
of ancient Greece.

Clearly,
you're not interested.

Oh, I'm interested.

Interested in how
voices in the head

could be caused by malposition
of the uterus.

There's a better place
for it?

Now what do we got?

We got lobotomies,
rubber rooms, electric shocks.

That Galen
was so primitive.

Where are you going?

To see the patient.

That all-important
human connection.

Thought I'd give it a whirl.

You won't talk to patients
because they lie.

But give you a patient
with no concept of reality...

If it wasn't for Socrates,

that raving,
untreated schizophrenic,

we wouldn't have
the Socratic method,

the best way
of teaching everything,

apart from juggling chainsaws.

Without Isaac Newton,
we'd be floating on the ceiling.

Dodging chainsaws,
no doubt.

And that guitar player
in that English band,

he was great.

You think I'm interested
because of the schizophrenia.

Yeah. I'm pretty sure.

Galen was pretty sure
about the fumigation thing.

Pink Floyd.

Mom.

This is Doctor--
Gregory House.

Nice to meet you.

Be all right
if we spoke alone for awhile?

Well, uh,
you're gonna need me to--

Got your case notes,
Doctor.

There's a cafeteria
downstairs.

Get yourself
whatever you want

as long as there's enough
left over for a Reuben sandwich

dry, no fries,
hold the pickles.

Should run you about $5.80
with tax.

I'll page you
when we're done.

No...

pickles.

Nice kid.

How much
do you really drink?

He's really talking
to a patient?

I don't know
who I am anymore.

It's a blood clot.

What's so fascinating
about that?

He likes crazy people.

Likes the way they think.

They think badly.

That's the definition of crazy.
Why would he like--

They're not boring.
He likes that.

And the meds?
Baseball.
I like baseball.

Very nice.

Very sad.

My boy and me,
we went to see a game.

Not Mets.

Meds. Medicine.

You take
what he tells you to take.

No one believes me.

I do.

I thought
he liked rationality.

He likes puzzles.

Patients are puzzles?

You don't think so?

I think they're people.

Yeah.
Well...

He hates them.

And he's fascinated by them.

Tell me you can't relate
to that sentiment.

[laughing]

You told Luke
it never hurt before.

Just rough.
They didn't hurt.

Didn't.

Don't lie to him, Limpy.

Lively Lucy
never lies to Lucas.

Look what I do to him.

Learn anything
from the human connection?

Yeah, the Mets suck.

Also,
for the last two months,

she hasn't shaved her legs

because of the tremors.

She cuts herself.

The tremors aren't new.
She must always cut herself.

Exactly. Something changed
in the last two months.

I'm thinking
the amount of blood

when she cut herself.

So lets start
with some blood work.

Collect and send
for clotting studies, PT, PTT,

Factor V, protein C&S.

The whole shebang.

Good luck.

(Luke)
No pickles

and it's cold now.

If it's a Reuben,
that's the way he likes it.

Everyone, this is Luke.
Allison Cameron.

It's nice
to finally meet you.
Save it. We're busy.

Luke, give us another half hour
with your mom.

We need to do some tests.

Nice kid.

Take her off
the psych meds.

That way we'll know what's what
on the physical side.

And who knows,
we might get more out of her.

Don't worry. No pickles.

Happy birthday.

Okay.

Whose?

I was going through your mail
and it was on a form.

Happy birthday.

Oh.

No. No blood.
Not mine.

For the tests.
Dr. House told you about them.

[spits]
You're going to steal it.

Sell it.
No. No blood.

No. No blood.
No. No blood.

Haldol. Five milligrams.
STAT.

No! No.

No.
No.

No--no--oh!

No--oh!

No...no...

[sighing]

(House)
Well, good news.

The lab says it's not strep
so we're done.

Wait a second.

No, really.
Not strep.

The boys in the lab, sure,
they're hard drinkers,

but they're pros.

Plus, your kid actually has
none of the symptoms for strep.

I just figured it was quicker
running the tests

than arguing with you.
My point is, go.

I just wanted to ask
your opinion, Doctor.

She's having a birthday party
next week and she's upset

that I'm getting
a sugarless cake.

The other kids hate it.

This is why you're here.

Sugar is the leading cause
of obesity in America.

You want a doctor to scare her
about the dangers of sugar.

She needs to get her weight
under control.

Well, you know...
[clears throat]

I feel sorry
for those other kids, Wendy,

who don't have a mom
like yours--

a mom who knows that sugar
causes heart disease,

appendicitis,
and athlete's foot.

That's not fair.

Oh, yes it is.
No, I get it.

You want her
to slim down a little,

so she can wear
pretty clothes like yours.

Love the bracelets.

Hey, what about
matching outfits?

You could be twins.

[mocked surprise]
She can't be your daughter!

It's impossible!
You look way too young!

Happy birthday.

Get the kid a damn
ice cream cake.

You drugged her.

Actually, I didn't.

I've taken her off
all medication.

Your guy Foreman
gave her Haldol.

We needed blood for tests.

I assume that was the only way
to get it.

He knocked her out.

Look, I have a cane
and I know how to use it.

I hired you.
You work for me.

Okay.
Can I go now, boss?

The Haldol changes her.

She says it makes
her soul numb.

Don't give it to her.

If there be rags enough,

he will know her name

and be well pleased
remembering it.

[coughs]

You okay?

Old days.

For in the old days,

though she had
young men's praise

and old men's blame,

among the poor both old
and young gave her praise.

[Lucy coughs, vomits]

[vomiting]
Mom. Mom!

Help!
Somebody help!

(House)
So when I said

"no psych meds,"

I'm just curious, which word
didn't you understand?

The Haldol had nothing
to do with the bleed.

You know that.

I used it purely
as a chemical restraint.

Oh, great.

Well, that's good to hear.

So she won't experience

any of those pesky little
side effects you get

when your motives
aren't pure.

Those side effects
are so rare.

Passing out.
Increased confusion.

Depression.
That's not going to happen.

That's not gonna screw up
our diagnosis

'cause you just used it
to restrain her.

I'm so relieved.

She spit in my face.

That must have been
so frightening for you.

What was I supposed to do,
tie her down?

Yeah, anything
but give her drugs.

That's basically my point.

The clotting studies.

Pretty fast. You promise
to date the entire lab?

No, I save that
for emergencies.

I told them
she bled out two units

and if it happened again,
she'd die.

If it had happened at home,

she would have died.

The ER Doc.
He was going to send her home.

Used my best judgment.

Turns out your best judgment
is not good enough.

Here's an idea.
Next time, use mine.

I think they're choosing
a movie.

Why did the patient
bleed out?

The clotting studies
so far are normal.

Well, cover your ears

if you don't want me
to spoil the ending.

Everything was normal
except for prolonged PT time.

Which means what?

Usually it means

whoever drew the blood
didn't do it right.

Oh, that's right,
'cause you drew the blood.

But you were precise

because you knew the tube
was purely

for the PT study.
That's right.

And I'm right with you.

I trust this result
for two reasons:

A--because you are
a good doctor,

and B--because five milligrams
of I.V. Haldol

makes for a spectacularly
cooperative patient.

The prolonged PT time

makes me think she's got
a vitamin K deficiency.

(Cameron)
Vitamin K would explain
the bleed, but not the clot.

Without vitamin K,
protein C doesn't work.

Without protein C, she clots.

Clotting and thinning
all at the same time.

What about another drug
interacting with the Heparin?

An antibiotic
like Ampicillin.

Clever.
But she's not on Ampicillin.

Two months ago,

she complained of a sore throat
and he got her Ampicillin.

Which she refused to take.

He just said
she didn't take it.

What is it,
everybody lies

except for schizophrenics
and their children?

It's more likely
than malnourishment.

Why not scurvy

or the plague?

Gee, I wish my idea
was as cool

and with it as yours.

What is yours, by the way?

Do you have one?
Alcohol. Simple.

It causes immobility,

which explains the DVT,

it also causes cirrhosis,

which explains the bleed

and the prolonged
PT time.

Let's ultrasound the liver.

(House)
Three theories.

Check out her place
for Ampicillin and diet

then ultrasound her liver.

Let's find out who's right
before she bleeds to death.

101.

[shakes door handle]

So House says
the kid's sensitive.

At least he takes
good care of her.

But if we don't find anything,

why let him know
we did it in the first place?

What's the point?

Why not just make
old Foreman lift the key

from the kid's backpack?

Looks like Luke sleeps
in the living room.

Nothing in there.

He lays out her clothes?

Enough organization,
enough lists,

you think you can control
the uncontrollable.

Fix her meds.
Fix her clothes.

Maybe you can even fix her.

Pick that up
on your psych rotation?

Trifluoperazine.

Thorazine.
Clozarile.

They tried everything.

The Ampicillin.

[pills rattle]

Never touched it.

There goes
Cameron's theory.

Oh god, I hope it's not
a vitamin K deficiency.

Oh, damn.

Breakfast, lunch,
and dinner.

House was right.

[beeping]

That's the only thing
she'll eat.

Yeah.

Problem is, you can't actually
live on this stuff.

I checked it out.
I looked on the box.

All the nutritional values
are solid.

There's plenty of protein
and calories.

Yeah, vitamin A and C,

but no K.

That's why your mom
got sick.

So what's the plan?

Load her up
with vitamin K.

That's it?

It all checks out,

you can take her home
in a couple of days.

[crying]
Oh, god. You're upset
about something.

You're going to open up
to me now, aren't you?

It's all my fault.

Here we go.

Okay, I'm going
to say this once.

You have done a very good job
taking care of your mother.

If this was all she'd eat,
then what else could you do?

Gosh, just being a kid
is a full-time job.

Shut up. I'm 18.

I should be able to take care
of my mom.

I almost killed her.

Good example.

Just the time it takes

to express those ridiculous,
self-centered teenage ideas,

I don't envy your schedule.

No pickles.

My mom
doesn't like them either.

Smart woman.

Before she got sick,

I didn't like
how bossy she was.

Always telling me what to do,
the right way to do it.

Never thought I'd miss that.

Ah.

You should get that looked at.

I still don't buy
a Vitamin K deficiency.

House was right.

That usually makes you happy.
Less work for us.

The kid feeds his mom
a steady diet of booze

and the problem
is too many burgers?

The kid's
in a tough situation.

You do what you got to do
to survive.

Feeding alcohol to an alcoholic
is not a survival technique.

Where I come from,
if it works--

Yeah, right.
I'm rich.

I couldn't
possibly understand

what this kid
is going through.

Just because you're drinking
pricier stuff

doesn't mean
you don't have a problem.

You've seen someone
stagger down that road?

No way vitamin K's
the whole story.

It's not broken.

See this right here?

It's the epiphyseal plate,

otherwise known
as the growth plate.

What's wrong with it?

An amazing thing, this bone.

If you know how to read it,

it can tell you how old
someone really is.

Exactly how old.

Great.

Mmm, not even 15.
Almost, though.

Two weeks away.
Maybe a month.

Last week.

I was 15 last week.

Happy birthday
to both of us.

If you're going to lie,
though, go big.

Go 21.

That way you won't need
your crazy mom

to help you buy vodka.

Great. Thanks for the tip.

Now, when I bring
my mom home,

is there anything I need to know
about taking care of her?

I suppose your biggest worry
isn't the booze.

You're 15.
Basically no mom.

If Child Welfare let kids
get away with that,

well, they wouldn't need
those nice foster homes.

And that would make them sad.

They'd put her
someplace too.

My life is working.

Not the word I'd use.

Most 15-year-old kids

are doing what they're
supposed to be doing.

Huffing glue,
catching crabs.

If you turn me in,

I'll sue you.

That's privileged
information.

Oh, relax.
It's not even your X-ray.

She's awfully calm.

(Chase)
House write new orders?

There's a little bit
of scarring.

Not much.

Not enough to actually--
It's cirrhosis.

But she doesn't drink.

Congratulations.
You win.

Actually...

No one wins.

A tumor.
Cystic?

A solid mass.

Cancer.

Vitamin K caused the DVT
and aggravated the liver.

But the tumor is the real reason
for the bleed.

The tumor's the problem.

Mrs. Palmero,
I'm Dr. Wilson.

I'm afraid I have some bad news
from your ultrasound.

You have cancer...

It's big.
5.8 centimeters.

You do nothing,

she dies from liver failure
within 60 days.

She needs a transplant.

That's gonna happen.

She's 38 years old.
She's a mother.

She's a schizophrenic mother
with no money

on the public dole,
in fact,

who knocks back vodka every time
a breeze blows her way.

Mickey Mantle had a whole bar
named after him.

He got a transplant.

Well, Lucy can't switch hit.

Plan B:
surgery to resect the tumor.

Joe Bergin
does the gamma knife thing.

Laser cauterizes
while it cuts.

Saves more liver.

The tumor's way too big.

He won't even consider it.
Not a big risk taker,
Bergin.

Won't even drink milk
on its expiration date.

He has no discretion.

5.8 centimeters is past
the surgical guidelines.

Would he do it at 4.6?

Why don't we just say
it's zero,

then we don't need him
at all.

Tumors grow,
they don't shrink.

This one does.

95% ethanol.

The ethanol dehydrates
the tumor cells.

Literally sucks them dry.

Shrinks the tumor
temporarily.

How temporarily?

Well, if we're lucky...

just long enough

to fool the surgeon.

Good morning, Dr. House.

Good morning,
Dr. Cuddy.

Love that outfit.

It says, "I'm professional,
but I'm still a woman."

Actually, it sort of yells
the second part.

Yeah, and your big cane
is real subtle too.

Gotta go.

Those running noses

aren't just gonna start walking
on their own.

The clinic can wait.

How long?

Maybe we could catch
a movie.

You should know by now

my doctors have no secrets
from me.

I don't believe it.

Who came running to mommy?

It doesn't matter who.

Point is, I know exactly
what you did.

You have no idea
what I'm talking about.

Somebody knows
about a bad thing you did.

That's a big field.

But somebody you think
might've told me.

That narrows it down
quite a bit.

Someone who views me
as a maternal authority figure.

A young person, perhaps.
How am I doing?

Think I'm going
to get there?

Presumably hospital business.

How many patients--
It's Cameron.

She found out
about my birthday.

I thought she told you and I'd
have to stand here and smile

while you gave me a sweatshirt
or a fruit basket.

You know, made me feel
that deep sense of belonging.

Actually, I was just going
to remind you

you owe me six clinic hours
this week.

Oops.

Hi, this is Dr. Cuddy.

I need all the charts
on Dr. House's current patients.

[hiccup]

I've tried everything.

Mm-hmm.

"Pulling the tongue.
Ice packs on the throat.

"Hitting yourself.

The groin pinch."

Well, you've certainly covered
all the normal

medical bases.

How are you hitting yourself,
though?

Is it--is that an open hand
or a fist?

Open hand.

Well, that's how they teach it
at Harvard Med.

How hard, though?

slap

I'm sorry. I missed that.
Could you do that again?

That's--that's very good.
Hiccups.

I need to speak
with you now.

Well, I need
to go pee-pee.

Just dial it up a notch
and repeat.

I'll be back.

Ooh.

Girl in the boy's bathroom.
Very dramatic.

Must be very important
what she has to say to me.

Yesterday, your patient's tumor
was 5.8 centimeters.

Today it's 4.6.
How does that happen?

Well, on a guess,

I'd say that Dr. House
must be really, really good.

Why am I wasting him
on hiccups?

I wash before and after.

You also requisitioned
20 CCs of ethanol.

What patient was that for
or are you planning a party?

Do me a favor.

I was going to say leave,
but that works.

You shrunk the tumor.

Only way to get the guy
to do the surgery.

Fraud was the only way.

There is a reason

that we have
these guidelines.

I know.
To save lives.

Specifically doctors' lives.

And not just their lives
but their lifestyles.

Wouldn't want to operate
on anyone really sick.

They might die
and spoil our stats.

Bergin has a right to know
what he is operating on.

True. I got all focused
on her right to live and forgot.

You do
what you think is right.

You really didn't know?

No. I didn't.

And frankly, I'm angry.

Which I'm guessing
is the correct response.

Of course,
I'll know better

once you tell me
what you're talking about.
Your birthday.

Anger was a bad guess.

Normally,
I'd put on a festive hat

and celebrate the fact
that the earth

has circled the sun
one more time.

I really didn't think

it was going to make it
this year.

But darn it if it wasn't
the little planet that could

all over again.

It's a birthday.

It's an excuse to be happy.

You think that's lame?

Why are you here?

To buy me a pony?

I'm just waiting
for the surgery.

Yeah, well,

go scrub in.

All right, we're done.
Close her up.

That tumor didn't just walk
itself into a bar

and order up a double shot
of ethanol.

Someone shrunk it down.

I'm sorry.
It was very, very wrong.

House is lucky
I didn't just close her up.

He tries it again,
that's what happens.

I'll pass it on.

(Chase)
It looks like the surgeon
got it all,

but she's going to have to have
some chemotherapy.

(Luke)
What kind is it?

Luke, stop writing.

If you stop for a second,

it's not all going
to fall apart.

Give yourself a break
once in awhile.

The fact is, your mom's
going to have an extra drink

every now and then.

She won't.
She doesn't.

Fine.

There are some things
you just can't fix.

That's all I'm saying.

That's how you'd handle it.

Something like this.
Do you just give up?

No.

I'd do it just like you.

It's an infusion.

She's gonna have a drain
in her abdomen.

You're going to have to check
for possible infection.

(woman)
Lucas Palmero?
Trina Wyatt.

Child Services.

State of New Jersey.

Can I help you?
This is a private room.

He's only 15 years old.
A minor.

He's in a tough
living situation.

We're just here to help.

I don't need your help.

15?

Lucas,

you're going to have
to come with us

right now.

Where are you taking him?

Until the determination
is made,

he'll be housed
at Children's Services.

I don't want to be housed.
I live with my mom.

Not for the next
few days.

Come on.

Let's not
make this difficult, huh?

Mom.

Mom.

I love you.

The Mets lost.
You remember?

Yeah.

I remember.

I love you.

[crying]

(Wilson)
Cuddy didn't say anything

about pushing Bergin
to finish the surgery?

Not a word.

Some kind of mind game.

She's waiting
for me to crack.

Well, either that
or she's just being nice.

Yeah, right.

(Luke)
You said
you wouldn't call.

You're a real bastard,
you know.

Yeah.

I get that a lot.

I don't think mom's crazy.

For in the old days,

though she had
young men's praise

and old men's blame,

among the poor both old
and young gave her praise.

You called Social Services.

It was you.

No. No. No.

It's okay.
It's okay.

I get it.

You'll have an easier time
dealing with the system.

Sure, he won't be
with his real mother,

but his real mother's sick.

Someone needs
to take care of him.

I'm not gonna live here.

What would his future
have been?

Taking you to chemo and back
on the bus.

And even if the cancer
is in complete remission,

he'll still have a mother
who hears voices.

Talk no more.

Talk no more.

Look what I do
to him, Limpy.

You said that.

I checked
the phone records.

Only one call
from this room.

Smart. They charge you
two bucks a call.

It was to Social Services,
State of New Jersey.

You're his mother.

You couldn't do it
to him anymore.

Good for you.

(Wilson)
Schizophrenics
can make rational decisions.

On the small stuff, yeah.

When to sleep.

What to drink.

No lemonade, but I'll take
some hemlock if you've got it.

Your man Socrates.

But giving up your son
because it's better for him,

it's so sane,
so rational.

Self-sacrifice is not a symptom
of schizophrenia.

It excludes the diagnosis.

She's not schizophrenic?

She's 36 years old
when she first presents.

It's a little late,
but within the peram--

The internist
sends her to a shrink.

One shrink
sends her to the next.

Tells them all
she's not crazy.

The drugs don't work.

And why would they
if she's not a head case?

She got clearer

when I took her
off the psych meds.

You think I'm crazy.

Well, yeah.
But that's not the problem.

Didn't we just leave
your office?

I like to walk.

[piano music]

*

[plays "Happy Birthday"]

Is that Dr. Jeffrey Walters?

Hi, my name is Greg House.
I'm a doctor at--

Oh, is that the time?

I'm--
Yeah, I'm sorry.

My watch must have stopped.

Listen, you treated
a patient about 18 months ago.

A woman named
Lucille Palmero.

I wondered if you recalled
running any tests...

[phone hangs up]

At all.

(British accent)
Oh, how terribly
foolish of me, Doctor.

Is it that late?

Yes, I'm calling from London,
you see.

Must've got my times
mixed up.

[phone hangs up]

I have a headache.

It's my only symptom.

I go to see three doctors.

The neurologist

tells me
it's an aneurysm.

The immunologist

says I got a hay fever.

The intensivist
can't be bothered.

Sends me to a shrink

who tells me
that I'm punishing myself

'cause I want to sleep
with my mommy.

Maybe you're just not getting
enough sleep.

Pick your specialist,
you pick your disease.

If it's not schizophrenia,

what else presents

with psych symptoms?

Porphyria.

Madness of King George.

What about
that Copper thing?

What's it called?
It's genetic.

The body accumulates
too much copper.

Oh, um, uh,
Wilson's Disease?

(House)
Very rare.

Nice. I like it.

If any of us did this,
you'd fire us.

Well, that's funny,

I thought I encouraged you
to question.

(Foreman)
You're not questioning.

You're hoping.

You want it to be Wilson's.

Boom. Give her a couple
of drugs. She's okay.

July 17.

Appointment with a Dr. Karn.
(Cameron)
She didn't keep it.

She never kept
another appointment

with a shrink he made
after that.

Karn is not a shrink.

I looked him up.
He's an ophthalmologist.

Now why would she want
her eyes checked?

Wilson's presents
with cataracts, I think.

Yes, it does.

It also causes
slight cirrhosis,

which Dr. Chase

so eagerly attributed
to alcohol.

So what are we still
doing here?

Lucy!

I don't think you're crazy.

Neither do I.

But I'm crazy.

Here.
Let me get you up.

Come on.

Just put your hands
on the bar here

and your chin in here.

Thank you.

You're gonna see
a bright light, okay?

Your body might be
accumulating too much copper.

If it is, this should
help us see something

called Kaiser Fleischer rings.

Copper-colored circles
around your corneas--wow.

I guess we should start
treating her for Wilson's.

That's what I'd do.

(Lucy)
I will talk no more of books
or the long war,

but walk by the dry thorn

until I have found some beggar
sheltering from the wind

and there manage the talk
until her name come around.

If there be rags enough,

he will know her name

and be well pleased
remembering it.

For in the old days,

though she had
young men's praise

and old men's blame,

among the poor both old
and young gave her praise.

Hi, Mrs. Palmero.

Ready to go home?

Almost.

Mom?

How are you?

I'm good.

[crying]

Oh, you really need
a haircut.

Dr. House.

Luke.

We're making Dr. House wait.

That's okay.
We're just here for the music.

Luke. Come on.

I'm being discharged.

I heard a rumor.

Thank god
I had cancer, huh?

It's terrible having everybody
think you're nuts.

Really?

I called to thank you.
Did you get my message?

Yes.

You're welcome.

I'm never thanking you.

You turned me in.

I told you
we were doing okay.

It was none
of your business.

Look, I don't care
how you were living,

I just wanted you
out of my life.

That's why I had Dr. Cuddy
call Social Services.

You okay?

You were right.
It wasn't the DVT.

It was the schizophrenia.
I know.

She's not nearly
as interesting anymore.

Isn't it your birthday
around now?