House (2004–2012): Season 3, Episode 6 - Que Será Será - full transcript

So, you got a Green Beret,
a Navy SEAL
and a sister from Brooklyn.

The general hands
each of them a gun and says,

"Your spouse
is seated next door
in a room in a chair.

"In order to pass this test,
you must go inside
and kill them."

Lmmediately
the Green Beret says,

"No, sir,
I could never kill my wife.
I just can't do it."

The General looks at him
and says, "You know what?

"You ain't got what it takes.
Take your wife
and go on home."

Navy Seal then heads in.

Five minutes later, comes out,
tears strolling down his face.

"I tried, I tried, I tried,
I just can't do it,



"she looked so beautiful
in the chair,
I can't do it."

General looks at him and says,
"You know what?

"You ain't got what it takes."

Finally, sister from Brooklyn
strolls in with a swagger.

(MIMICKING GUN FIRING)

Shots rang out,

there's banging,
there's screaming,
it's going crazy!

Suddenly,
everything goes silent.

The General says,
"Well, what the hell
happened inside?"

The sister from Brooklyn
screams back,

"The damn gun
had blanks in it,

"so I had to beat him to death
with my bare..."

What the hell?

A little bit of warning
would have been nice!



The sound of a saw
cutting a hole in the wall

wasn't warning enough?

Bite me.

(MAN CHATTERING ON RADIO)

(WOMAN CHATTERING ON RADIO)

What, are you kidding me?
Tub of Goo there's gotta be
over six bills.

You ain't gonna lift him
with a couple of blankets.

SMITH: You got a better idea,
Einstein?

Yeah, just roll him off.

What? He's already dead,
it ain't like
he's gonna feel it.

How the hell's
a guy get that big?

You roll him off
from this high,

he's likely to go
right through the floor
and take us with him.

Are you ready?
All right, one, two, lift!

(FARTING)

Come on, man!

Me? You're the kielbasa king.

It wasn't me.

Whoa, it wasn't me, either.

Don't look at me.

Please tell me
dead guys can fart.

Of course.
Dead bodies are full of
all sorts of gases.

But a dead body
can't tighten a sphincter.

You need a tight sphincter
to make a fart.

No, you need
a loose sphincter.
A tight sphincter...

You check his femoral?

No. He peed all over himself!

Look, I've heard dead bodies
moan, groan, hiss,

hell, I've even seen them
sit straight up on a gurney.

Trust me, his skin's cold,
pupils are fixed and dilated,
he's not breathing.

He's got a pulse!
No way.

All right, give me an Ambu bag
and an EKG.
It's thready, but it's there.

Let's get him in a basket.
Ready?

One, two, lift!

Forty-six-year-old guy
in a coma.

Doesn't appear to be
anything wrong with him

except for the fact
that he weighs
over 600 pounds.

What time
does he usually get in?

Any time between
8:00 and 10:00.

Did you say 600?
At least.

Biggest scale we got
only goes up to 350

but this guy's waistline
is over seven feet.

Which means he's a diabetic
with blood thicker
than pancake batter.

No mystery there,
not much we can do.

Blood sugar's normal.

Cholesterol's lower than mine,
tox screen's clean,
no sign of trauma.

Sure there wasn't
a mix-up at the lab?

Three times?

It's almost 11:00,
where is House?

(MAN SINGING)

(SPEAKING SPANISH)

(CONTINUES SINGING)

Hello!

It's 11:00.

Which means my friend
is ready for his sponge bath
and I shouldn't be here!

Hey, Gomer Pyle!
I know you can hear me.

(DOOR OPENING)

I think you mean Barney Fife.

So many great idiot icons
to choose from.

You need time
to think of some more?

Either arraign me
or let me go.

No problem.
Which do you prefer?

What took you so long?

Sorry. I didn't have 15 grand
in my loose change jar.

What the hell did you do?
Nothing.

Your motorcycle was impounded,
that explains
the speeding, DUI,

and driving
without a license.

The fact that you're you
explains the illegal
possession of narcotics

and resisting arrest.

Where's your car?

What happened?

Some idiot cop with crotch rot
obviously thought

that I didn't treat him
with the deference
due to a man of his stature.

He trumped up a traffic stop,

next thing I know
I'm sharing a cage

with a guy
who thinks that showers

are the way the devil
gets inside you.

Does Cuddy know?

Everything she needs to.

I'm innocent.
Till proven guilty.

Guy wanted to punish me,
he did it. It's over.

Gotta get yourself a lawyer.

Already got one.

You know what they say
about the lawyer
who has himself as a client?

Same thing they say
about the doctor
who lends 15 grand

to a friend he knows
can't pay him back.

Relax, you'll get it.
Where am I gonna take off to?

Does Salma Hayek
live in Mexico or Spain?

There's nothing abnormal
in the EEG
or the neurological exam.

I'm guessing
it's food-related.

Improperly prepared
puffer fish

can have toxins
that could cause a coma

and might not show up
on the tox screen.

Where do you think he is?

He's probably
at the track.

If he's at the track
he'd tell us
so we don't have to page him,

and if it was a puffer fish,
he'd be dead
in six to eight hours, tops.

He's been in a coma
at least 24.

And the guy
didn't get to 600 pounds
eating a load of sushi.

What if he was
in a motorcycle accident?

Explains the coma.
But how'd he get back in bed?

Oh, Cameron's talking
about House!

You ever see how he drives?

No, we haven't.

But I have seen
how many pills
he's been popping lately,

I wouldn't be surprised
if he's in a coma
somewhere himself.

If I am, this is
one lame hallucination.

What happened to you?

If you ever end up in a bar
with the Cambridge
Women's Heavyweight Eight,

do not accept an offer
of an upside-down
kamikaze shot.

We have a case.
Fat guy in a coma, I know.

Cuddy found you?
Nope.

But the wall
between Wilson's office

and this one
is thinner than you'd think.

Which means
we need to stop talking

about what a pathetic loser
he is.

Start treating Jabba
for pickwickian syndrome.

His 96 double-Zs
are probably putting pressure
on his chest, suffocating him.

CO2 and oxygen
sats are normal.

For you and me.
What's normal
for a hippopotamus?

And get
a detailed medical history.

From who?
He was brought in alone.

And I doubt a guy
who weighs 600 pounds
bothers with annual physicals.

Talk to the neighbors
and search the house.

Let's see what else
Shamu's been up to
besides eating.

This conversation is over

because I've officially
run out of clever things
to call the guy.

It's hard to believe

you can even attach
this much flesh
to a human skeleton.

CHASE: I wouldn't exactly
call this attached.

This is ridiculous.

A person shouldn't be able to
eat themselves into oblivion

and then just expect everyone
to pull out the stops
to fix everything.

What are we supposed to do?
Refuse treatment
to anyone who's obese?

Come on, give me a break.
This guy's not obese.

He's not even morbidly obese.
He's suicidal.

People who attempt suicide
get treated.

Plenty of noncompliant
diabetics don't.

We don't give
drug addicts dialysis

or alcoholics
liver transplants.

What is your problem?

You get beat up
by a gang of fat kids

when you were in grade school
or something?

Yeah. I'm the one
with the problem.

So, I think
his bedroom's through there,

and the kitchen's
to the left.

Have you seen any changes
in his personality?

Any trouble with memory
or balance?

No, but I really
don't see him that often.

He's not unfriendly
or anything,

I guess he just likes
to keep to himself.

I think he only gave me
a spare set of keys
'cause I gave him mine.

What?

Nothing. Just reminds me
of someone I know.
Who is unfriendly.

Does George have a job?

He has a headhunting business
he runs from home.

Occasionally
he'll interview people here,

but he does most of it
over the phone.

Wow!

Yeah, he loves to cook.

And eat, obviously.

Four-course gourmet meals
almost every night,

sometimes for lunch, too.

Do you know if he ever uses
any unpasteurized cheese
or wild game?

I'm not sure.

He gets all his groceries
delivered from
that market down on Alden.

They'd probably know.

He have any friends?
No.

I mean, sometimes women
do come by.

Young, attractive,
never the same one twice,
if you know what I mean.

I see.

There can't be many women
who'd wanna be
with a guy like him.

(WOMAN CHATTERING ON PA)

It's usually worst
in the morning.

Especially
if I've slept on my arm.

If I sleep on my back
or with my arms out,
I'm usually okay.

So your arm only hurts
after you lie on top of it
all night.

Yeah.

Well, have you thought about,
I don't know, not doing that?

Yeah. But it's how I sleep,
it's how I've always slept.

Well, there's always surgery.

To do what? Like, clean out
some cartilage or something?

You're not sleeping
on some cartilage,
you're sleeping on your arm.

You wanna remove my arm?

Well, it is your left.
You know, a guy's gotta sleep.

Are you insane?

(HOUSE WHISTLING)

I see spending a night in jail
hasn't humbled you a bit.

While following
my every move is flattering,

a single rose on my doorstep
each morning
would be more enticing.

Just bringing your boss
up to speed,

which I guess
you didn't feel was necessary.

You gonna add that
to my list of charges?

People who are innocent
tend not to try
to hide their arrest.

Is that based on
your years of experience
arresting innocent people?

The way
you're going at that gum,

it's obviously not having
the desired effect.

You're the addict.
You're gonna be back
on the butts in a month.

You're just taking out
your frustration on me
'cause my meds actually work.

Why don't you quit
while you're ahead.

Before you end up
as a security guard

working the night shift
at some strip mall.

I think working around
a bunch of nurses

has given you a false sense
of your ability to intimidate.

Who was that?

Apparently Cuddy's widened
her sperm donor search

to include Neanderthals.

Cuddy's looking for
a sperm donor?

It was a joke.
Like Cuddy
would ever want a kid.

Or a kid
would ever want Cuddy.

Hello, that's why it's funny!

Why are you guys here?

It's not pickwick's.

Intubation and steroids
have had no effect.

Except maybe to cause
whatever it is to get worse.

He's got a fever now.

What'd you find out?

That you and George
have the same taste in
home furnishings and women.

Danish Modern
and Russian gymnasts?

Pianos and prostitutes.

We should do an LP
and look for neurosyphilis.

It's not syphilis.
How do you know?

Because you get STDs
from people you trust,

people you don't feel
the need to
protect yourself from.

Whatever he has
is connected to his gut,
not what's below it.

MRI his brain,
look for clots.

Weight limit
on the MRI machine
is 450 pounds.

So do a CT.

Limit's 350.

Then just start treatment.

If we give him blood thinners
and the coma's caused

by a bleed instead of a clot,
we could kill him.

Either start treatment
or start building
a stronger MRI.

Whatever you do, do it fast.

The longer
he stays in the coma,

the less likely it is
he'll ever wake up.

There's no way.

His head's the only part
that we have to
get in the machine.

If we can just
get him on the table...

We get him on the table,
we break the table.

We break the table,

hospital's out
a million dollars
and we're out of our jobs.

The weight limit's
obviously just an estimation.

It's not like if it can hold
450 pounds fine,

it'll instantly collapse
under 451.

He's not one pound over,
he's 150 pounds over.

I don't care!

He still deserves
the same standard of care
as anyone else.

Then you believe the machine
will stand on principle.

You guys gonna help or not?

How much
does this guy weigh?

440.

Looks like
a lot more than that.

It's 'cause he's lying down.

You guys ready?
One, two, three.

(ALL GRUNTING)

(TABLE CREAKING)

Here.
What's this?

I made some calls for you.

The guy's
the best criminal attorney
in Princeton.

Thanks, but I don't need it.

I assume
you told Inspector Clouseau

that I have
a valid prescription
for the Vicodin.

Yeah, and I assume
you did as well.
Did it make a difference?

The guy's pissed!

And with the DEA
now treating pain doctors
like Colombian...

I'm not a pain doctor,
I'm a pain patient.

Tell it to your lawyer.

No midline shifts,
no bleeds, clots, infarcts.

I don't see
any edema, either.

So what do we do now?

An LP.

Even if it's not an STD,
a fever points toward
some sort of infection.

I'm not sure we can do an LP
on a guy his size.

What?

You have to be able
to palpate the spine
to know where to go.

We could use fluoroscopy
to guide us.

He still wouldn't be able
to bring his knees up
and bend forward

in order to open the space
between...

(GRUNTING)

(SCREAMING)

George, it's all right,
you're in a hospital!

Calm down, man, calm down!

Get him out already!
I'm trying!

Come on!

(GEORGE SCREAMING)

We're gonna get you out!

CAMERON: We still have no idea
why he was in the coma
to begin with.

Or why he woke up.

CHASE: It was probably
just some
sort of head trauma

and we missed the swelling

because, well,
his head's already swollen.

Bump on the noggin
doesn't explain the fever.

An infection made worse
by the steroids we gave him
for pickwick's does.

He's not worse,
he's better.

We just replaced
the last MRI you broke.

Referring to
the fund-raising funbags
by the royal "we" now?

Let me explain
cause and effect to you.

I specifically told them
to skip
the boring testing part

and jump right to
the dangerous treatment.

You blow stuff up,
makes my life miserable,

makes me need to make
your life miserable.

He's telling the truth.

Kids these days,
got no respect
for other people's property.

Repairmen cost less
than lawyers.

Morbid obesity
is a legally defined
disability,

which means
if we'd denied access
to the MRI,

he could have sued us
for discrimination
as well as malpractice.

This was your idea?

Yeah.

Looks like Cameron's
gonna be having
a lot more ideas in future.

Who knew that
being bloated and bitchy
could actually come in handy?

Shut up.
What if it is hormones?

It's not hormones.

I'm talking about George.

Acute adrenal insufficiency
could cause a temporary coma.

A glandular problem
would cause his temperature
to be low, not high.

Maybe the fever's
not related.

If it's not related,
there's nothing to talk about.

We should do
an ACTH stimulation test

and check his skin
for acanthosis nigricans.

Or the fever is related
and so are the prostitutes.

We should do a full STD panel
and check his genitals
for chancres.

CHASE: We should do nothing.

Just keep him a couple of days
for observation.

If he doesn't get any worse,

it was probably
just a hematoma
that dissipated on its own.

Or we do all of the above.

You check his belly
for patches.

You check underneath
for sores.

And you just sit on your ass.

Acanthosis nigricans
is a hyperpigmentation
of the skin,

usually indicates some sort
of hormonal imbalance.

There's nothing wrong
with my hormones.

It's the first thing
every doctor
I've ever gone to has checked.

Then it's the blood pressure,
then it's gotta be diabetes.

They all figure
there's gotta be
something wrong with me.

You having any problems
with your vision?

No, I have nystagmus.
I've had it since birth,
I'm fine.

You're not fine.
You were in a coma
for two days.

There's something wrong
with you.

Was something wrong with me,
now I'm better,
now I'd like to go home.

A coma's not like
a stomach ache.

You can't just shrug it off
and hope
it's not anything serious.

My company places
a lot of insurance executives.

There are over 300,000 deaths
caused each year
by medical mistakes

and hospital-associated
infections.
I'll come in for tests.

There are over 400,000 deaths
caused by
obesity-related illnesses.

The CDC says those figures
are a gross overestimation.

George, you ever notice
you don't see
a lot of obese old men?

If I'm gonna
have a heart attack,

I would rather it be caused
by a perfect
pan-roasted ris de veau

than running 26 miles
for no reason other than
to brag that I can do it.

Or to have an MRI machine
break in
the middle of a procedure!

We're sorry about that.

It was the only way
to rule out a stroke
or brain hemorrhage.

And now that you have,
when can I go?

(WOMAN CHATTERING
ON PA S YSTEM)

It's probably her mom.

I bet she's huge.
She's from the Midwest.

Since when do you eat beets?

Since I was five.

And who are we talking about?
You know,
just in case you need me

to chime in and tell you
you're a lunatic
at some point?

Cameron. She's lying,
destroying hospital equipment,

telling Cuddy off.

I gotta find out
where she got
the Fat Scratch Fever.

Yeah, you definitely better
get to the bottom of that.

I heard Cuddy gave you
the name of a lawyer.

Or it could just be pity.
She feels guilty
about being born beautiful.

So she overcompensates
by being nice to ugly people.

Would explain why
she gets along
so well with you.

From what I hear,
the patient reminds her
of you, not me.

Call the lawyer.

Cameron sees a clump of dirt
and she thinks of me.

Or a lump of something else.
You're a lunatic.
Call the lawyer.

Very mature.
You started it.

Skin exam
and ACTH stimulation test
were both normal.

He has nystagmus
but it's congenital.

No way it's related
to the coma.

You say, "No way,"
I say... Yeah, no way.

Blood and urine were negative
for chlamydia,
herpes, and syphilis.

Looks like
we got ourselves a mystery.

Not for long.
He wants to be discharged.

Oh, sure.
Places to go, people to eat.

He insists
his chance of dying

from a hospital-acquired
infection

is greater than him dying
from whatever caused his coma.

Did you tell him
that statistics also say
that he's a big, fat idiot?

Yeah, I did.
He's not backing down.

He says
if we don't discharge him,
he'll leave AMA.

Selectively rational,
stubborn, uncooperative,

maybe you ought to
check his leg.

(FORCED LAUGHTER)

Do you see what he did there?
The patient's like me.

The patient's three mes.

If I were him...

Maybe it's not
such a mystery after all.

(EXHALES)

Enjoying your Salisbury steak?

Putting chopped parsley
in a hamburger

does not
a Salisbury steak make.

You must be Dr. House.

And you must be
full of baloney. A lot of it.

Right. Fat joke. Always fun.

The only people
you can still make fun of.

And Christians.
Oh, and black people.

No one in their right mind
comes out of a coma

and immediately asks
to go home
with an unknown condition,

which means that either
you're not in your right mind

or it's not
an unknown condition.

So, what is it?
You tried to off yourself?

You figure I'm fat,
therefore I hate myself.

Yeah, that's a huge leap
of logic.

I don't wanna die.
I just don't wanna be here.

Then it's a condition
you've already had diagnosed,

or it's something
you know you've inherited.

Let's see, your stomach
has deep-seated feelings

of abandonment
written all over it,

which points toward
sexual abuse.

While a fear of hospitals,
that points to a more
specific traumatic event.

So I'm gonna say,
your mom in the hospital
with a candlestick.

And by candlestick, of course,
I mean
inherited OTC deficiency.

My parents
are both alive and well
and living in Boca Raton.

Thyrotoxic periodic paralysis?

I have no idea what that is.

Leukoencephalopathy.
Will you stop!

If I knew what was wrong,
I would tell you.

I'm not an imbecile,
and I'm not miserable.

I'm just overweight.

(CELL PHONE RINGING)

What?

When?

To be continued.

(EXCLAIMS)

What are you doing here?

Executing a search
of the premises.

When you...
When you got bailed out

before we could get a judge
to approve this,

I almost didn't bother.

I thought for sure
you'd come straight home
and throw everything out.

Rookie mistake.
Never underestimate
the stupidity of an addict.

There's gotta be
over 600 Vicodin in here.

Which most DAs would say
proves intent to traffic.

Even if all
you really intended was
to simply be wasted 24l7

while practicing medicine.

In case you hadn't noticed,
those are
prescription bottles.

I'm not an expert
on linguistics per se,

but I think that means
they were prescribed.

(PILLS RATTLING)

All these
were legally prescribed

to a man
who's in constant pain

but never misses
a day of work?

Has it ever occurred to you
that's why I don't miss a day?

Yeah. Yeah, crossed my mind.
Among other things.

Like what an unprofessional,
unethical,
arrogant ass you are.

Because
if you're unprofessional
in one area,

it only makes sense.

Now maybe just a few of these
are in someone else's name.

Forged prescription,

or just, um,
swiped from the pharmacy
when nobody's looking.

No, but, well,
you wouldn't do that. Right?

Send him home.

Why? You think he's healthy?

Either I'm right,

he knows what's wrong,
he's just too stubborn
to admit it,

or I was right
and it's pickwick's.

The treatment
just had a delayed effect.

You don't have
delayed effects to oxygen.

And Pickwick's
doesn't explain the fever.

Being engulfed
in an electric blanket
of blubber

could explain the fever.

Yesterday you insisted
we keep him here
because of the fever.

We have no idea
what's wrong with the guy.

For all we know
he could be dead
in 12 hours.

He does not want our help.

Which means
he doesn't want your help.

He's obviously
just rationalizing.
And so are you!

You would never give up
this easy

if you weren't so busy
dealing with
your own personal problems.

Send him home.

What did you tell that cop?

Nothing.

Nothing as in nothing?

Or as in nothing
that could cause him to think

I have a stash
in my apartment?

He called to see
if I prescribed the pills,
I said yes. That's all.

Obviously not.
What happened?

He searched my house,
found a buttload of pills.

Guy's gotta be prepared
for a rainy day.

Last I checked
pharmacies were still open
when it rained.

And because I never know
when you're gonna be
in one of your moods

and cut me off.

Oh, it's my fault.

I'm not the one
who talked to the cop.

Well, I'm not the one
who put a thermometer
in his rectum.

So stop yelling at me
and start talking
to your lawyer.

Is there someone
who can check on you?

Oh, don't worry.

There's gonna be a whole crew
of carpenters in my bedroom

for the next week at least.

You know, there's an
Overeaters Anonymous meeting
here at the hospital.

If I wanted to
jump out of airplanes
or climb Mount Everest,

would you be telling me
to go to
Daredevils Anonymous?

I would be worried about you
just like I am now.

Don't be.

I enjoy food.

I like cooking it,
I like looking at it,
I like smelling it,

and I especially
like eating it.

Listen, whatever happens
is gonna happen.

Ultimately it's all
out of our control anyway.

Why doesn't
that philosophy apply

to medical mistakes
and hospital-acquired
infections as well?

I'm a complicated man,
Dr. Cameron.

But don't worry,
I plan on staying that way
for a long time.

Wait, wait, let us take you
all the way outside.

I'm fine.

It doesn't matter,
it's hospital rules.

Oh, screw the rules.
I've been on my back
for four days.

I need the exercise, right?

George, come on,
let us just take you
to the taxi.

Don't worry, I may not
be able to climb Everest,
but I can walk, okay?

George...
Now enough already.

George, are you all right?

George? You all right? George?

FOREMAN: Disorientation
and loss of balance

could mean
a neurofibromatosis.

Where's Chase?
Don't know.

Haven't seen him
since you told him
to sit on his ass yesterday.

Interesting.

NF2 is also inherited,
which means I was right.

You kept saying
it was pickwick's.

Between the first pickwick's
and the second pickwick's,
I said it was inherited.

Whatever.
NF2 doesn't explain fever.

I think we should focus
on the coma and the fever.

Why? The disorientation
and loss of balance
are more recent.

The coma was
the most severe symptom.

But he's not
in the coma anymore
and he is disoriented.

No, he's not.

We have a rather large piece
of tempered glass
that begs to differ.

I just mean
it's not connected.

You don't know that.

Yeah, I do.

How could
you possibly know...

Because I did it!

I didn't think
he should be discharged,

so I gave him
three grams of phenytoin.

I wasn't gonna just
let him leave.

But you were okay with him
crashing through a glass wall?

I tried to keep him
in the wheelchair,
but he's tough to stop.

Nice audible, Peyton.

So, what do we do now?

Discharge report says
he didn't eat his breakfast.

Humpty Dumpty
didn't get to be the size
of all the king's horses

by skipping
the most important meal
of the day.

What causes coma, fever,
and loss of appetite?

It can't be Chagas',
he's never been
outside the country.

But his stomach has.

The food we eat
no longer comes from
America's heartland.

It comes from South America's
deforested jungle land

where lettuce now grows
and lettuce pickers now poop.

Get a sample of his CSF

before the little bugs that
are now feasting on his brain
move on to dessert.

How are we gonna do that?
He's too big to do an LP.

So go straight to the source.

You wanna drill a hole
in my head?

It's the only way.

It's gotta be something
other than a parasite.

I buy my produce
at the best market in town
and I always wash it.

Leafy vegetables
can suck contaminated water

through their roots
right into the plant.

You could have
washed them in chlorine

and it still
wouldn't have mattered.

Then other people
would be sick as well.

The parasites could have been
on only a few items,

or maybe they just didn't eat
as much as you did.

It's always
about my weight, isn't it?

Why can't you people
come up with one theory...

This one fits, George.

It explains your coma,
your fever,
your loss of appetite...

And the disorientation?

It's all explained.

And if we don't treat it
while it's still
in the acute stage,

it'll be too late.

It could go on
to infect your heart,
intestines, esophagus...

This is what I get
for eating salad.

(DRILLING MACHINE WHIRRING)

FOREMAN: Suction.
NURSE: Suction.

Aspirator.

Your turn.

Irrigation.

Sponge.

What did you do?

Nothing. Why, what's wrong?

(STUTTERING) I can't see.

Vision's blurry
or you've lost...

I didn't lose it,
you took it from me!

George, calm down.
I can't see!

Give me some lorazepam!

What did you do to me?
Hold still!

George! George!
What's going on?

No. No. Calm down!
What did you do to me?

There's no inflammation
in the optic nerve
and his retina's intact.

The blindness
has to have been caused
by something in his brain.

And not surprisingly
there was no sign of Chagas'

or any other
parasites in his CSF.

So we've ruled out
his parents,

prostitutes, the arugula.
Means either...

I took the sample
from the prefrontal.

I was never anywhere
near his visual cortex.

Or you missed a tumor
on the MRI.

Not a chance,
the MRI was clean.

You mind?
Where are you going?

To get a $400 butt plug.

What about George?

He's gonna have to
get his own. Come on.

Let's see if we can
get this thing figured out

by the time
we get to the elevator.

It could be MS.

Would explain the coma,
the blindness,

loss of balance,
and the fever.

Could also explain
his lack of concern
for his health.

MS can cause
excessive cheerfulness.

Yeah, he's a delight.

You don't get to MS
with coma
as the first symptom.

Blindness plus coma
says diabetes. Just in time.

No. Blood sugar,
urine dip stick and
hemoglobin A1c are normal.

Were normal when you tested.

He's been
in and out of a coma,

whatever's going on
is waxing and waning,

unlike his pants size,
which only waxes.

Which also points to diabetes.
Test him again.

And this time add
a glucose tolerance test
and an HEC.

We already have
a CSF sample,

we might as well
check it for proteins
to rule out MS first.

Agreed. Except for the part
about doing it first.

Where are you going?

The butt plug
was my way of saying,
"Mind your own business."

Apparently too subtle.

George, all it is
is sugar water, I promise.

Just because I'm overweight
doesn't make me diabetic!

You tested me,
everybody's tested me.

Sometimes
the blood sugar levels
can fluctuate,

make it difficult
to diagnose.

You stuck a needle in my brain
and 10 seconds later
I was blind!

How is that difficult
to diagnose?

Who the hell knows
what else you guys
done to me?

I should have
never come here!
You didn't come here,

you were brought here
because you were in a coma
and barely alive.

We didn't do that to you,
you need to let us figure out
what did.

For someone who insists
he enjoys life
as much as you do,

you certainly
don't seem willing
to do much to prolong it.

Yeah,

because I don't agree
with the brilliant doctors,
suddenly I'm suicidal!

Refusing to cooperate with us
does not make you suicidal,
it makes you an idiot.

You think
we want to see you blind
or in a coma?

I've been fat all my life.

I've only been sick
for the past few days.

You look for a disease
that has nothing to do
with my size,

and I will help you.

Otherwise, leave me alone.

Speeding, DUI,
reckless driving,

resisting arrest,
possession of
a class three narcotic.

And now it looks like
they've added

another possession
with intent
to traffic charge as well.

They found some pills
at your house.

All of which
I had a prescription for.

That's a lot of pills.

I'm in a lot of pain.

This is all because some cop
came into the clinic,

I was rude to him,
this is his way
of getting back at me.

You've made it pretty easy.

His insane reaction
to a simple
rectal thermometer reading

probably says
a lot more about his mother
than it says about me.

I'm inclined to think
your particular charm

may not be immediately
appreciated by a jury.

I'm not interested
in a plea bargain.

It's your best bet
to make this go away.

There is no this.
There's a him.

The only thing I'm guilty of
is humiliating a bully.

I wasn't speeding,
I wasn't impaired,
I didn't resist,

and I certainly was not
distributing narcotics

to anyone but myself,

because I need
those narcotics.

Five grand retainer.

If we end up going to trial,
there'll be another 30 due
before the first day.

My hourly is 450.
That work for you?

What'd your lawyer say?

I looked up butt plug
in a legal dictionary.
What'd he say?

That a smile like mine
can't lose.

What did the tests say?

You were right about MS.
No myelin basic proteins
in his CSF.

What about diabetes?
Don't know.

He says
we only think it's diabetes

because of his weight,
won't let us test him.

So, you would rather
be a blind invalid
than admit the fact

that maybe you might have
a little problem
with overeating.

By a little problem,
of course,

I mean you've eaten yourself
half to death.

And you would rather
let me die
than consider the fact

that whatever is wrong with me
has nothing to do
with my weight.

I go where the symptoms
tell me to go.

And right now
they're asking why this stuff

is the first thing
you've ever refused
to swallow.

I am not diabetic.

Grocery stores
giving away medical degrees
with the free turkeys now?

The sooner you drink this,

the sooner I get to go
waste my time
with something else.

Get the hell off of me!

No dessert
till you've finished
your dinner!

George, just drink it!

Nurse!

Get this jackass off of me!

What the hell is going on?

Just trying to force
a horse to...

(GEORGE GROANING)

Let go!

What's going on?

Get X-rays of his hands.
Then bronc him,
do a sputum cytology

and check his CSF
for anti-hu antibodies.

How are we gonna get him
to do all that,

we can't even
get him to drink a bottle
of sugar water?

Tell him that lung cancer
is in no way
connected to obesity.

You don't think
he'll realize we're lying?

You're not.
Lung cancer's got nothing
to do with obesity.

I meant about him
having lung cancer.

You didn't notice
his fingers?

I noticed they were fat.

You should have
pissed him off,

he would have grabbed you.

Then you would have
felt the bones,

they're not just fat,
they're clubbed.

George,

it's me.

Your tests were positive.

You have a small cell
lung carcinoma.

It caused a paraneoplastic
neurologic syndrome,

which in turn
caused your blindness
and coma.

The cancer's metastasized
to your lymph nodes.

It's inoperable,

but there are
radiation treatments
available.

They might give you
a few more months.

I never smoked.

(SIGHS)

C'est la vie.

CAMERON: You were right.

So was he.

He said, "C'est la vie."

He's a complicated man.

What about you?

What are you gonna do
about your problem?

Nothing. Just got a call
from my lawyer.

He gave the DA copies
of my prescriptions.

Soon as they confirm
they're bona fides,

they're gonna drop
the possession,
DUI and resisting arrest.

Soon as I pay
my $85 speeding ticket

and the impound fine,
I get my bike back.

I guess that's good.

You guess?
No, it's good.

You get to keep going
like you always have.

All right, I give up.
Who was it?

Who in your family
had the weight problem?

You think I can only care
about a patient

if I know someone else
who's been through
the same thing?

You care for everybody.

You only lie
and stand up to Cuddy
for a few.

You lie for everybody
and only care about a few.

You're avoiding the question.

I like damaged people,
remember?

It explains everything I do.

Almost everything.

It wasn't you, was it?

Does it matter?

Nope, but it'd be interesting.

Sorry to disappoint you,

but sometimes the answers
just aren't that simple.

I know he can be a real ass,

and he has no problem lying
when it serves him,

but he's not lying
about the pain.

He needs the medication,
which is why
I prescribed it.

All of it.

Well, I see a lot of cases

where people who have
real injuries
end up getting addicted.

And then, well, things kind of
spiral out of control.

And lives get ruined,
and not just their own.

I don't know what else
to tell you.

What about these?

This is getting...

If it's got my name on it,
it's a legit scrip.

You sure?
Yeah.

Because the signatures
on these

look a little different
than the signatures on those.

You look surprised.

No, I'm just...

I hadn't thought about it.
I do sign my name
differently sometimes.

Are you sure?
Yeah.

I just, I guess get bored
signing it the same way.

You know what they say
about doctors' handwriting.

I'm gonna give you a moment

to reconsider that answer.

Because if you are,
for some reason, mistaken,

we will find out,
and that will not be good
for you.

Or Dr. House.

I am sure. Absolutely.

All right.

I guess that's it, then.

Thank you for your help.

Okay, no problem.

(DOOR OPENING)

(DOOR CLOSING)