House (2004–2012): Season 7, Episode 16 - Out of the Chute - full transcript

d there are things d

d I have done d

d there's a place d

d I have gone d

d there's a beast d

d and I let it run d

d now it's running my way d

d there are things d

d I regret d

d but you can't forgive d

d you can't forget d



d so take this night d

d wrap it around me
like a sheet d

d I know I'm not forgiven d

d but I hope
that I'll be given d

d some peace d

d d

One. Don't tense up now.

Go with him.

Two. That's it.
Stay in rhythm.

Three.
What are you doing, Lane?

You're tipping in.

Four.
What's your problem?

Get your ass down.
Get back in the middle.

Five. You're weak.



You got all kinds
of daylight under you.

Six. Damn, Lane, you should
be schooling this bull.

Seven. Get up, set your hips
before the kick comes down.

Nice recovery.

Now just wait till he turns
back away from your hand.

d d

Whoo!

Hey. Hey.

What the hell
just happened?

I was about to ask you
the same thing.

d House 7x16 d
Out of the Chute
Original Air Date on March 14, 2011

-- Sync, corrected by elderman --

I'm fine.

Okay.

I assume Cuddy told you
that she dumped me.

She did.

And that
I'm back on Vicodin.

She told me you
had taken a Vicodin.

And then I took a lot more.

And so on.

But you're fine?

Well,
I'm not fine as in "fine,"

but I'm fine as in "you don't
have to worry about me."

Because you cleared out
your bank account,

checked into a hotel,
and started back on Vicodin?

Because I'm going to be fine
as in "fine" very soon.

Until that happens,

are you sure
Vicodin is the...

My leg hurts.

You've been able
to handle the pain.

It's gotten worse.

Not physically worse.

Worse is worse.

Pain doesn't discriminate.

Neither do the pills.

The Vicodin
and the five-star pampering

that I'm gonna get
over the next few days

should be enough
to get me through it.

So you don't want
to just avoid the issue.

You want to avoid
avoiding the issue. Sorry.

Nothing is either
as bad or as good

as we think it is
at the time.

That's why T.O.
mocks his opponents immediately

after scoring.

He doesn't wait

till his friend shows up
the next day

to tell him to deal with it.

Two weeks from now,

maybe a little more,
maybe a little less,

my life will be back to its
usual level of crappiness.

Till then,
the only real issue

is how much I'm gonna spend
on hotel charges.

Good morning, sir.

I've got your deluxe
breakfast for two.

Do I have to count
the strawberries?

Don't worry.

You can trust me
with anything.

Including your food.

After he and I have sex,

I'm gonna slit his throat

and then disembowel him
in the bathtub.

Oh, no problem. I'll cancel
the morning maid service.

Would you like me
to have them clean up later

when they come
to turn down your bed?

Why didn't I meet you
six months ago?

Thank you very much.

And if there's
anything else I can do

to make your stay here
more enjoyable,

just ring the concierge
and ask for Carnell.

Eat fast.

We're expecting company.

Okay.

This might not be
such a bad idea.

What do you think he meant
by "anything"?

Take some time for yourself.
Relax.

I know it's a figure
of speech,

but he really did seem
to underline the "anything."

Maybe talk to someone?

Already scheduled.

Really?

I'm not an idiot.

I know I need help.

Okay.

That's...great.

I meant, like, a counselor.

I know.

But you meant a hooker.

Yeah.

Baby steps.

House screwed us.

Ten years of doctors

cobbling him
back together.

Metal rods in every limb.

Pins stabilizing his spine.

Five screws

and a titanium plate
in his skull.

Can't do MRIs.

X-rays are probably
gonna be useless as well.

Every piece of metal
is gonna obscure something.

And House isn't sick.

Why would you say that?

Cuddy dumped House.

He's out somewhere
expecting us to indulge him

while he ignores his job
and licks his wounds.

Cuddy dumped him?

Don't do that.
Don't get sucked in.

He loves her. What?

You can't feel bad for him
for five minutes?

I can feel bad for him
while still expecting him

to act like an adult,
show up for work,

and not go on a booze-,

Vicodin-,
and hooker-filled bender.

Which is why for now we're gonna
handle the case without him.

Oh, is that the reason?

I thought it was because
you can't pass up

any chance to seize control.

I said "we."
You want "pretty please" too?

Wait. I understand the booze

and the hookers,
but why Vicodin?

Wow, you really don't have
any friends in here, do you?

House is a Vicodin addict.

He's been clean
for two years.

He's used here at work?

Yes, that is very troubling.

Almost as much as the fact

that our patient
has a ruptured diaphragm,

cracked sternum,
broken nose,

and partial hearing loss,

which can be explained
by a bull jumping on him.

And a neurological disorder,
low-grade fever,

nausea, and peripheral muscle
weakness that can't.

What if the hearing loss
wasn't caused by the bull?

That's just
when he noticed it?

Inner-ear pathology
can affect the equilibrium

and cause disorientation,

making it appear to be
a neurological disorder.

So how do we confirm?

CT is just gonna show us
the plate and screws

holding his skull together.

We can do calorics
and an ENG.

If he has inner-ear damage,

it'll affect his balance.

Sounds good. Go ahead.

Go ahead? Really?

What if one of us
disagrees?

I happen to agree
with Foreman.

Go do it.

You knew he was an addict
before you got involved.

Didn't end
the relationship--

You knew he was an ass--

I didn't end it--

You told him you did not
want him to change.

And I was wrong.

You don't know that.

You thought
you were gonna die.

Do you really think
that was the right time

to make this kind
of decision?

No.

But I've thought
about it.

A lot.

And I haven't
changed my mind.

He thought
you were gonna die.

Nobody knows the right way
to react in that situation.

Just give him another chance.

He deserves it.

I know.

But this isn't about
what he deserves.

When things go wrong,

I don't want to hope
that I'm not alone.

I want to know it.

With House...

every time I needed him
to step up...

he's just never
gonna be that.

It's not his fault.
It's who he is.

I should have known it.

This is my fault.

Well, he's back on Vicodin.

So you might want to...

keep an eye
on his new patient.

ENG was normal.

Means his inner ear isn't--

Morons.

It wasn't--

Whoa.
Wait a second.

The acoustics in here
are beautiful.

Morons!

You say it.

Morons.

Who was that?

Something Carnell got me.

It wasn't that ridiculous
of a theory.

Great theory.

It's a ridiculous test.

You can't give
a standard balance test

to a champion bull rider.

If you're gonna test
Superman's strength,

you need a bigger barbell.

Find one,
make him lift it,

then call me and tell me
how high it got.

And tell Cuddy that spying
is for cowards.

Just keep me posted.

I will.
I will.

You said my inner ear
was fine.

Previous test
was for regular people.

You were banged up pretty bad
in the accident.

But given your
athletic ability...

Wasn't no accident.

That bull had malice
and forethought.

Uh, you mean aforethought.

Whatever.
He was pissed.

Can you blame him?

Not at all.

If he don't do
what he gets paid for,

I don't get to do
what I get paid for.

You ever think
of getting paid

for doing something else?

You're running out
of bones to break.

You ever think of doing
something you don't love?

It has its downside,

but everything does.

There ain't nothing like
those eight seconds.

Traveling around,
getting to meet the fans,

that ain't so bad either,
if you know what I mean.

All right, now what?

We're gonna start rocking
the platform

and changing
your visual field

while you balance
on just your right leg.

Here you go, Lane.

I'm gonna start slow.

If you start to experience

any nausea
or disorientation,

just let us know
and we'll stop the test.

You got it.

Ha.

That is amazing.

We can stop.

There's obviously
nothing wrong

with his inner ear.

Now what?

And I direct that question
not to my boss,

but to anyone
who has an answer.

If it's not in his ear,
it's got to be his brain.

But if we can't
get any images,

then how do we--

You guys
got some rusty pipes.

This water's brown.

That's not from the pipes.

It's from your mouth.

Can you pass me the, um...

What took you so long?

There's nothing
wrong with his ears,

but he's got blood
in his sputum.

Doesn't answer
the question.

We weren't avoiding you.

It took us a little time

to think up a diagnostic test
no one's ever thought up before.

Apology accepted.

It could be a tumor
in a salivary gland.

We should get
a parotid biopsy.

Oh, that's so cute.

You're fighting over
who's in charge.

GI bleed's more likely

to explain
the nausea and weakness.

Who's in charge?

House, as long
as you're not here,

someone has to have the final--
Let me rephrase.

Who's your daddy?

Let me rephrase.

You have to decide

if you're gonna buck up,
get out of bed,

and do your job,

or if you're gonna wallow
in self-pity.

Those my only two choices?

Or can I also point out
the self-pity coming from you?

You're just annoyed because
when your relationship ended,

no one gave a crap,
including you.

That is not true
in so many ways.

And, Chase,
stop screwing with Foreman.

And, Foreman, no.

Till the telephone
gets uninvented,

no one in that room needs more
authority than I give them,

and right now

I give you the authority

to scope his GI tract
and biopsy his parotid.

And you can pick up
the phone.

Wait, House, should we
be more worried about you?

Are you on Vicodin?

Because if you are,

you probably shouldn't
be ordering procedures.

I am not on Vicodin.

Do the tests.

I have to see a man
about a hurdy-gurdy.

You really think House
isn't using Vicodin?

Does it actually worry you?

If he's
self-prescribing meds,

that could affect
his judgment.

And does that worry you?

Are you being sarcastic?

If his rule-breaking
is affecting his judgment,

then you can step in
and you can worry,

but if he's just
coming up with ideas

that we haven't thought of
but we should have,

then our job
is to shut up and do it.

And what do you see
in this guy?

Hmm? What? Who?

Oh. You think I'm attracted
to our patient?

Right.

It's against the rules,

so you wouldn't do it.

He's a macho half-wit.

You have every reason
to not be attracted to him,

which is why
I ask the question.

Why are you attracted
to him?

- Stop it.
- I'm just...

- No, no, no. Take out the scope.
- But I don't see--

not the monitor.
Look at his eyes.

Sclerae turned yellow.
Did X-rays.

Looks like there's a mass
in his liver,

but the conductive
metal rod in his ribs

is blocking it.

Making it, as they say,

as tough to find as a hooker
who can play the hurdy-gurdy.

If you have a point,
can you please--

It's an expression.

Means it's tough,

but apparently
it can be done.

If we don't have
any equipment...

You have eyes.

Not that see through stuff.

Obviously.

You want us
to cut him open?

Only if you want to see

what's wrong with him.

Do you know Free Bird?

Do you see what I see?

No.

Exactly.

More suction.

That's impossible.

I definitely saw a mass
on the X-rays.

It's gone now.

It's a mass...

and then it's not.

You, uh,
gonna introduce us?

Team, meet Duke.

Anke.

Anke?
How'd I get Duke?

House, how many prostitutes
have you had?

As in eaten?

Ever? This year?

Slept with.
Since you've been here.

All but one.

She did my taxes.

On the other hand,

tapeworm that burrowed
outside his intestinal...

We would have seen eggs

on a fecal smear

or systemic eosinophilia.

Detached cyst?

Couldn't migrate
that far

in one hour.

We haven't been
sitting on our hands

just waiting
for your brilliance to kick in.

Okay,
so how did you shoot down

intermittently swollen
lymph node?

That would mean it's
some kind of an infection,

which would mean we'd have to do
a spinal tap.

But with his recent
skull fractures,

it could be
an increased ICP.

His brain
could herniate.

What about
a ventricular puncture?

Sounds good.

You think sticking a needle
directly into his brain

would be less dangerous
than sticking it in his spine?

It's probably a push.

I'm just trying
to get you out of here,

because
underneath this sheet,

stuff is going on.

Just pick a spot
and stick a needle in it.

You want to drill
through my skull

because of a mass
that's not there?

It was there, which means
something is wrong.

We need to find it.

Is there anybody
you'd like us to call?

Someone that you'd like
to be here with you?

Maybe a wife or girlfriend?

No, my family's
all back in Oklahoma,

and the guys on the circuit

are in Calgary
at the next rodeo.

Ah, that's too bad.

It's nice to have
somebody nearby

you can talk to who cares.

You okay?

Hmm?

You just sang, "it's good
to have somebody near by

to talk to who cares."

Okay, fine. I like him.
So what?

No kidding.
I just can't figure out why.

Yeah.

Neither can I.

Looks clear.

Nothing is suggesting
inflammation.

Something's wrong.

O-2 stats are plummeting.
We need to intubate.

Drop the table.

I can't get it in.

The airway's blocked.
Get the trach kit.

O-2 are going back up.

What's that smell?

Did he defecate?

Doesn't look like it.

I think it's his feet.

Oh.

Oh, man.

Ugh.

It's definitely
his feet.

Please don't.

That is a nice bow.

That was a nice door.

Put it on my tab.

Let's say we
take it up a notch.

Yeah, right.
Very funny.

You don't trust me?

No.

I'll do it.

And we have a gamer.

Oh, come on, man.

You can't be serious.

Why not?

Anything goes wrong,
we just take her to the doctor.

And I'm only
eight paces away.

- House--
- I like you, Carnell.

Don't ruin it.

Stinky feet can point
to diabetes,

athlete's foot,
or gangrene--pick one.

No!

Uh, none.

None of those
cause bloody sputum

or disappearing masses.

No. No. No. No.

You're gonna kill her.

Don't do that, Carnell.

They might get the idea
that I'm shooting at a hooker.

Fungal infection can cause
ulceration between the toes

and bleeding could be
from recurring abscesses

that appear to be
recurring masses.

Symptoms in the head or feet

mean the infection
would have to be

in the heart
or the brain.

I say we start by looking
in the heart,

because looking
at his brain

with a metal plate
is problematic.

So's MRI'ing his heart.

He's got a seven-centimeter
conductive metal rod

holding his rib together.
It'll rip him in two.

No, it'll just feel like
it's ripping him in two,

which is much better.

We could minimize the damage

by injecting ice water
into his abdominal cavity.

No. Please, no.

Oh, God!

Oops.

Got to go.

Call an ambulance!

Why?

What do you mean why?

She's hurt!

She doesn't look hurt.

No, you didn't.

Yes, we did.

You're an ass.

Okay. Go get me, uh,
General Patton's Colt 45.

The one
with the two notches.

He's not
getting you a gun.

Your friend knows
how to have a good time.

The MRI magnets are gonna
heat the metal.

Could get
to over 300 degrees

in 15 seconds.

Which is why
we're injecting ice water

into your abdominal cavity.

You'll feel colder
than you've ever felt,

and then you'll be hotter--

um, you'll feel hotter
than you've ever felt.

We'll try to be
as quick as possible.

Wow.

Shut up.

It's interesting.

No, it's not.

It's mundane and simple.

He's obviously
a very blessed specimen,

so from an evolutionary
point of view,

he'd produce
healthy offspring,

so my prefrontal cortex
is telling me

I should have sex with him.

- Oh. Is that all?
- Yes.

My rational brain knows
he's a hillbilly and an idiot.

And yet somehow
your rational brain

is losing the argument,
which is interesting.

You were bored.

You must have spent
about two days

setting up a fake murder,
and you were bored.

I'm fine.

You're not.

And I'm worried you might
do something even stupider.

Why don't you move back in
with me?

At least until
you get back on track.

What an ego.

You think you're some sort
of emotional paragon?

You're my rock?

I'm trying
to be a friend.

At least I have
the good sense

not to marry every woman
I fall into bed with.

Maybe you should move in
with me.

Either way.
If you prefer...

I prefer you to stop talking
about this.

House, we haven't even started
talking about this

except to establish the fact
that you are fine,

which clearly you aren't.

Leave me alone!

No.

We are gonna
talk about this,

and we're gonna
deal with this.

So I have no choice?

Fine.

Unless...

Unless...yes, I do.

I do have legs.

I see you didn't factor those
into your brilliant plan.

Lane, can you
try to hold still?

I'm trying.

Real hard.

Guy is tough.
I'll give him that.

My prefrontal cortex
is a little aroused.

Just get
the damn picture.

Rib temp is at 158.

I don't have a clear view
of his aorta yet.

This isn't gonna work.
We have to stop.

No. You're trying
to protect him

instead of trying
to save him.

He's smoking.

Literally, you ass.

Five more seconds.

No, getting a good image

isn't gonna mean anything

if he doesn't have
a rib cage.

Got it.

Whew.

The images,
they're normal.

Whew.

Ah. Whew.

You're gonna have to talk
to him eventually.

He needs you.

I love him.

And I know he loves me.

But I just can't...

He needs you in his life.

Even if you're not sleeping
with him, he needs you.

Without you--

You can't go backwards.

I can't fix his problem.

I am his problem.

If the infection's
not in his heart,

then it's in his brain.

You're in my sun.

- Do a CT.
- We can't.

He has a titanium plate

and a bunch
of metal screws.

Get rid of them.

His skull has multiple
hairline fractures.

Removing the metal plate

will be like removing

half an eggshell
without cracking

the rest of the shell.

And not removing the plate

will be like leaving
the egg out to rot.

We can't cut off
the top of his head

based on a few symptoms
that disappear

whenever we try
to test for them.

What if the one symptom
that hasn't disappeared

was never actually there?

Any delays
when he answers questions?

He doesn't have
partial hearing loss.

He's missing moments.

He reported having something

like a complex partial seizure
during a bull ride.

Said it hasn't happened since,
but what if he's wrong?

What if the infection
in the brain

is causing it
to happen all the time?

His E.E.G. didn't show any sign
of seizure activity.

I didn't say it was a seizure.

I said it was something
like a seizure.

And I'm guessing
you're about to tell us

we need to find something
like an E.E.G. to prove--

Nope,
'cause I already got one.

You want me to sing?

How's singing My Bonnie gonna
help you see inside my brain?

It won't.

It's just gonna prove
that we need

to cut into your skull,

which is gonna
be kind of dangerous.

So you've got a real incentive
to sing like an angel.

We think you're having
mini blackouts,

but your brain compensates.

But it can't compensate
if there's a preset rhythm.

One, two, three.

d My Bonnie
lies over the ocean d

d my Bonnie lies... d

d ...over the sea d

d my Bonnie...
Lies over the ocean d

d oh, bring back
my Bonnie to me d

See? Told ya.

Lane,
that wasn't even close.

That was brilliant.

Yeah.

It's understandable.

I hate
when you do that.

You respond to what you think
I'm thinking,

because you think
that I think like you do.

It's insulting
and annoying.

You're scared because
nothing excites you.

Fun doesn't excite you.

Puzzles don't excite you.

What's left?

And I was saying
you're right.

You're upset.
You're depressed.

Everything's gonna taste
a little worse right now,

but it'll pass.

It's understandable.

You're scared because
you think I'm falling apart,

and you're trying
to convince yourself

that you're overreacting.

Keeps ringing.

Yeah.

House, there's no infection
in this guy's brain.

CT's clean.

Well, that sucks.

Now we have
to blow up his heart.

We're not
blowing up his heart,

because we've
ruled out his heart.

MRI and transesophageal echo
reveal no swelling,

no masses, no vegetation,

no sign of anything.

'Cause we're looking
the wrong way.

There's an imperfection.

How do you find where?

I don't know.
Get a magnifying glass and--

You suck.

Feel free to interpret
that both ways.

Suck on the straw,

see where the drink leaks.

You're saying we put
pressure on his aorta

until it rips open?

You do realize
the downside of that?

If we don't rip it,

the damage
from the infection will,

probably not when he's got
his chest open in an O.R.

Where it can be repaired
inside the 60 seconds

it'll take him
to bleed to death.

It's a ridiculous idea.

It won't work.

Now if you don't mind...

get this guy's approval
to rip his heart open.

Hey.

We think you have
a bartonella infection,

which caused a mycotic aneurysm
in your aortic wall.

We need to find it,

which means we need
to blow up your heart.

And, yes, I'm as serious
as a heart attack.

We're going to increase
your blood pressure

until the weak spot
in your aortic wall explodes.

Hopefully we'll
be able to fix it

before you bleed to death.

Any questions?

Nope.

Really?

You don't even want to know

if you'll be able to go
back to bull riding?

I assume no?

I mean, you've already
cracked open my skull,

and now you're gonna
blow up my heart.

Thought you loved
those eight seconds.

I do.

And now you're telling me
that I got to give them up.

I can always find
something else to love.

House.

We need to talk.

You didn't expect me
to say yes

to rupturing his aorta,
did you?

Since I didn't ask,

I wasn't expecting you
to say anything at all.

You have no reason to believe
this will save his life.

Really?

No reason? None at all?

I'm just planning on
cracking open his chest,

blowing up his heart,
what, to pad his bill?

Or you think that since
you broke my heart

I want to break his.

I don't know.

I think maybe you're
looking for something

that can excite you.

Fill a void.

And it's affecting
your judgment.

You're right.
I am.

My damaged, depressed,
drug-addled judgment

is still better than yours

or any other doctor
in this hospital,

and my team is gonna do this
procedure and save his life.

So you can either have security
arrest me and my team,

or you can get
the hell out of my way.

And she caves.

Rib spreader in place.

Heart looks good.

The aorta's exposed.

I take it you
ratted me out to Cuddy.

I think your judgment
is compromised.

No, you don't.

Come on.

I got a squash game at 2:00.

Let's give this cowboy a ride.

If I inject more,

there won't be any room
for the blood

to go through
the rest of his body.

You're right.

Let's make damn sure
we don't damage his toes

while we blow up
his heart.

No bubbles,
no bruising, no gaps.

It's not working.

Yes, it is.

I was wrong.

Not yet.

Let's switch him over to
bypass for the debridement.

Come on.
We don't have much time.

Slow the heart down
so it doesn't--

Damn.

Clamp.

We can't clamp the aorta
at this pressure.

Even if you can see
through all the blood.

Do it anyway.

We need suction
and more sponges.

Leak is too fast.

No, it's not.
We can fix this.

It worked.

House, it worked.

I heard you.

Hey.

I'm awake,
so I guess it worked.

As long as you don't get
your heart rate too high.

You, uh, probably shouldn't
have sex for a while.

I'll keep that in mind.

Want to hang out,
see your ranch sometime?

Uh...

That would probably
be inappropriate,

'cause I'm your doctor
and everything.

Good luck with everything.

I--

Double scotch.
Doubled.

Uh, blended? Single malt?
Any preference?

No.

Yeah,
sorry about the noise.

I guess, uh,
their team won.

Although I got
to tell you,

sometimes I wish I could still
act like that, you know?

Just let loose.

Ah, I guess it's
a little easier, though,

when you got no troubles.

Parents still
paying your bills.

Got your whole life
ahead of you.

d d

d my body is a cage d

d that keeps me from dancing
with the one I love d

d my mind holds the key d

d my body is a cage d

d that keeps me from dancing
with the one I love d

d but my mind holds the key d

d I'm standing on a stage d

d of fear and self-doubt d

d it's a hollow play d

d but they'll clap anyway d

d my body is a cage d

d that keeps me from dancing d

d with the one I love d

d my mind holds the key d

d my mind holds the key d

d my mind holds the key d

d I'm living in an age d

d that calls darkness light d

d though my language is dead d

d still the shapes
fill my head d

d I'm living in an age d

d whose name I don't know d

d though the fear
keeps me moving d

d still my heart
beats so slow d

d my body is a d

d d

d is a d

d d

d is a d

d d

d is a d

d d

No!

d d

Cannonball!

What the hell
are you doing?

What do you do
when you win?

Party!

What do you do
when you lose?

Party harder!

d My body is a cage d

d that keeps me from dancing d

d with the one I love d

d my mind holds the key d

-- Sync, corrected by elderman --
d my mind holds the key d