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."
Immediately 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.
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.
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.
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
- 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...
George, it's all right, you're in a hospital!
Calm down, man, calm down!
- Get him out already! - I'm trying!
Come on!
We're gonna get you out!
We still have no idea why he was in the coma to begin with.
Or why he woke up.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
What?
When?
To be continued.
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 24/7
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.
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?
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 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.
Suction.
Aspirator.
Your turn.
Irrigation.
Sponge.
What did you do?
Nothing. Why, what's wrong?
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...
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.
C'est la vie.
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.