|
|
Post by Des Brink on Apr 14, 2009 20:57:15 GMT -7
Des was awake, but his mother was asleep. Although his father was sitting in a chair by his bedside. Des looked at his father. His father had heard about what happened earlier. "Dad, where's James?" he asked. "James is in Devan's room right now," his father put a hand on his son's right shoulder. Des nodded. He looked at the IVs. Then he thought. He had knew a lot of things that happened to him, but he didn't remember his heart stopping. Even though his mother told him, he just thought that it was just a nightmare. Des was worried about his mother.
Des knew this wasn't a dream, this made him want to cry, but he wouldn't cry just because of that. Des wanted this to be all over so he could go home and do whatever it is he likes to do. He looked at his mom once more then he looked back at his dad.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Gregory House on Apr 14, 2009 22:27:37 GMT -7
House opened the sliding glass door that divided the patient room from the hallway, before stepping inside. He looked at Des' parents from one to the next before settling his gaze on the patient.
"I'm Doctor House," he introduced himself, reluctantly. Working his fingers on the haft of his cane, he quietly made his way to the wall behind the bed. Pulling the patient chart down, he used his cane to pull an available chair closer and sat down. He flipped through the files, noted that Des had first been admitted because of syncope and low blood pressure, caused by dizziness. Then later he had episodes of coughing up blood, belly pain, headaches and cardiac arrest.
Interesting, he thought, reluctantly. When Angel had cornered him and told him to check this patient out, he had wanted to avoid what was surely a boring case. Given the details of the case, however, and he was drawn into the mystery. This kid couldn't be this sick, but he was. Why? He looked at the kid, musing, trying to solve the puzzle.
|
|
|
|
Post by Des Brink on Apr 14, 2009 22:52:33 GMT -7
Everyone looked at House except Des' mother. No one knew what to say, so no one said anything. There was an awkward silence. Des' mother finally woke up and looked at Dr. House. She didn't smile, she then looked at Des. I'm still hungry. And I still want to get out of here Des thought to himself. He made a first impression on Dr. House. Des thought Dr. House was a little like himself, rude, but that was pretty much it.
"I'm probably going to die aren't I?" Des asked, he was sure he was going to die. Des' mother was going to say something, but was interupted. "You remember what happened to Devan," Des told her. "He's fighting it," Mr. Brink said. Des fell silent. He didn't need to say more. But he was sure that he would die, if not today, then soon.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Gregory House on Apr 15, 2009 8:45:42 GMT -7
"Correction," House said, barely looking up from his perusal of the files, "you were probably gonna die. If I have anything to say about it, and believe me I will, you're not dying any time soon. I just have to figure out just exactly what you have."
He looked at Des' wan face, tired and drained. The kid's heart had just stopped earlier; that would be stressful for anyone, though thankfully, test results had shown no damage to the muscle. House looked briefly at the history and snorted. Kid must hang out in the ghettos to have gotten shot. Inner city New Jersey was a nice inner city, but still an inner city. "You bang, kid?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Des Brink on Apr 15, 2009 16:43:43 GMT -7
Des just looked at Dr. House. Des didn't know what House meant when he said Des was going to die. Des was confused on that bit. Des didn't even know his heart stopped earlier even though it happened to him. "No, I don't," Des responded to House's question. Des looked at his mom who looked very tired. Des started having a really bad headache again.
There was a long pause. "My head hurts," Des looked up at his dad. A tear came down one of his cheeks. Des' head hurt like before. It felt like it was going to explode. His headache was coming from every part of his head. His fever had come back too.
|
|
|
|
Post by Dr. Gregory House on Jun 19, 2009 15:04:45 GMT -7
He doesn't bang. Well, everybody lies. He stood, pursing his lips. If this were his case, he would've sent his minions to check out the kid's place. Look for gang paraphernalia, toxins, molds, something to explain the fever and the headaches.
Headache and fever. Nothing new or interesting there. House noted it on the chart before slipping it back into place. With a better grip on his cane, he nodded to the kid, "I'll send the nurse in with some painkillers. I'd give you my vicodin, but... well, nyah, they're mine."
House looked at the monitor after hearing the kid's whimper. Temperature was spiking. "Hang on, kid," he hopped closer to the sliding doors, "you, nurse-like creature, we need some cooling packs on the kid, he's overheating and if we don't get that fever down, his brain's gonna be cooked." The nurses were fast, and flooded the room quickly, breaking the chemicals of fast acting cooling packs and packing them at the major lymph nodes of his body: under the arms, at the neck, on the groin. House watched them work, before turning on his heels and cane-thump walking away.
He had an attending doctor to chew out. He wanted this case.
|
|
[My5:]
