Measures - a House-story (prequel to arhh's Stitches)
Title: Measures
Author: Hibernia1
Rating/Genre/Characters/Warning/et cetera: PG-13 (?), House & Wilson established relationship, no spoilers, 297 words
Summary: House is in too much pain to think straight
Beta: un-beta’d. If you see a typo or other mistake, please feel free to point it out (or hit me over the head with it, whatever you feel is best)
Disclaimer: House MD belongs to David Shore, Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions and probably some other people as well - all of those people are definitely NOT named Hibernia1
A/N: this is a prequel to arhh's story Stitches because she claimed she didn't know why House needed stitches, and I decided that I did! I sent my story to arhh first to get her opinion, and I'm happy and proud to announce that she approved and asked me to post it (*HUGS*, thanks again, dear!)!
Measures
House closed his eyes for a second. Pain was bad. No - “bad” he could live with. It was unbearable and he had no idea why. No bad fall, no lots of walking or standing, nothing at all. Still, it had steadily become worse every minute, his pain level climbing from about a four when he got up in the morning to way off the scale now, at 2 pm.
He could get opiates. He had methods. But he knew that would be a very bad idea, especially since he had a case and should stay alert. If his new patient would die - which was more than likely - it would not be because his doctor couldn’t think straight because of the pain meds he’d been taking.
Not that he could think straight now, what with his leg howling for relief…
He opened one of his desk drawers and took out a small knife. Maybe if he gave himself a small cut, it would distract his brain from the pain in his leg and he’d be able to think again. He’d used this method numerous times before, much to Wilson’s dismay. But Wilson had no idea what it was like to be in pain 24/7, so he had no right to talk.
House gave himself a tiny cut in his upper arm. It hurt, but his leg still hurt more. He cursed, wiped the blood away and tried again, this time lower on his arm. Again, it didn’t help.
Fine. Desperate times, desperate measures. He took a deep breath and cut himself deeply in his left hand. The pain shot through him like a lightning bolt and finally shut up his leg. He smiled, grabbed some tissues, and got himself to an exam room, paging Wilson on his way.
Thanks for reading!
Author: Hibernia1
Rating/Genre/Characters/Warning/et cetera: PG-13 (?), House & Wilson established relationship, no spoilers, 297 words
Summary: House is in too much pain to think straight
Beta: un-beta’d. If you see a typo or other mistake, please feel free to point it out (or hit me over the head with it, whatever you feel is best)
Disclaimer: House MD belongs to David Shore, Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions and probably some other people as well - all of those people are definitely NOT named Hibernia1
A/N: this is a prequel to arhh's story Stitches because she claimed she didn't know why House needed stitches, and I decided that I did! I sent my story to arhh first to get her opinion, and I'm happy and proud to announce that she approved and asked me to post it (*HUGS*, thanks again, dear!)!
Measures
House closed his eyes for a second. Pain was bad. No - “bad” he could live with. It was unbearable and he had no idea why. No bad fall, no lots of walking or standing, nothing at all. Still, it had steadily become worse every minute, his pain level climbing from about a four when he got up in the morning to way off the scale now, at 2 pm.
He could get opiates. He had methods. But he knew that would be a very bad idea, especially since he had a case and should stay alert. If his new patient would die - which was more than likely - it would not be because his doctor couldn’t think straight because of the pain meds he’d been taking.
Not that he could think straight now, what with his leg howling for relief…
He opened one of his desk drawers and took out a small knife. Maybe if he gave himself a small cut, it would distract his brain from the pain in his leg and he’d be able to think again. He’d used this method numerous times before, much to Wilson’s dismay. But Wilson had no idea what it was like to be in pain 24/7, so he had no right to talk.
House gave himself a tiny cut in his upper arm. It hurt, but his leg still hurt more. He cursed, wiped the blood away and tried again, this time lower on his arm. Again, it didn’t help.
Fine. Desperate times, desperate measures. He took a deep breath and cut himself deeply in his left hand. The pain shot through him like a lightning bolt and finally shut up his leg. He smiled, grabbed some tissues, and got himself to an exam room, paging Wilson on his way.
Thanks for reading!