Fic: Cuddy's Will Part 2
Title: Cuddy's Will Part 2
Words: 1000
Rating: PG13
Summary: Post-ep for House's Head focusing on the House-Wilson-Cuddy friendship.
Part 1
Hospital administration, being friends with House, it was all like running toward a burning building. Cuddy knew this, but she also knew what she was running from; tacit acceptance of the world as it was, loneliness, boredom. She studied the empty bus for another moment, allowing its desolation to spur her forward.
A quick stop in her office told her House was in ICU bed four. She gave her assistant instructions before speeding off. She saw House in a semi-upright position and realized the CT results were not good, but not dire. If it were dire, his bed would be in a fully upright position to try to relieve the increased intracranial pressure. Cameron and Foreman were both hovering close, but the monitors appeared stable for now.
“How is he?” she asked as she entered the room.
“Still unconsciousness. CT showed some progression of the cerebral edema. I’ve got another scheduled in a couple of hours. If it shows progression, or he’s still unconscious then, I think we should consider bolting him,” Foreman answered.
Cuddy shut her eyes as she nodded. Bolting a patient always seemed like medieval torture, though drilling in was the quickest and best way to relieve the pressure. The opening pressure would also give them a better sense of how severe this injury really was.
“And the EKG?” she asked.
“The bradycardia seems to have resolved after 2 doses of atropine. Monitor is showing occasional irregularities that are self-limited,” Cameron answered.
“I don’t want to put anything else in his system if we can avoid it, but I want those monitors and him followed closely. We’re going to let the Unit staff do what they do, but I don’t want you two going far.” Cuddy stated with an authority that allowed no argument.
“Sure,” Cameron answered for both of them.
“Good, how’s his breathing?”
“Better now. We had him on a face mask, but switched him to the nasal cannula after he got a neb. His sats are in the 90s on three liters. He’s written for round the clock nebs too.”
“Okay, the Unit knows how to handle breathing better than any of us, we’ll leave that to them. You can sign House out to them, but expect a page when he wakes up.”
“Right, I’ll be back when he’s due for that head CT if he’s not up before then,” Foreman said before exiting the room.
“Okay,” Cuddy said taking her seat next to House’s bed.
“He’s going to be okay,” Cameron said before parting.
He damn sure is, Cuddy thought to herself.
She studied him, completing her mind’s clinical assessment before allowing the gentle rise and fall of his chest and rhythm of the monitor to comfort her. They lulled her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had simply sat still for so long.
The fear that House still might not make it began to creep into her consciousness though. She had to stamp it out. So, she did what she enjoyed most about her relationship with House. She picked a fight.
“Of all the idiotic stunts you’ve pulled, risking your life like that? How could you? You’re lucky you didn’t herniate. Yes, I know physostigmine lowers your heart rate and BP and that’s technically protective against herniation, but cardiac arrest tends to screw things up now, doesn’t it?” Cuddy said with all the gusto as when she was verbally sparring with House.
“How many times do you think your heart is going to stop before it decides not to restart again? God damn it. Where did you even get the physostigmine? Haven’t you had enough trouble with taking medications that were not prescribed to you? Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten how big you owe me. I’m calling in that favor,” she said grabbing his hand.
“Yes, I’m holding your hand. We’re not in junior high. Deal with it. So, about that favor, you are going to regain consciousness, and your heart rate and breathing are going to return to normal. You are going to rest and take it easy and let your brain and your skull heal. And, you are going to stop playing these damn games with your life,” she ordered.
“I’m aging fast enough without your help. And you, my friend, are aging way too fast. So get back and get better, and stop taking these stupid risks. I know you think the world itself would stop spinning if you didn’t solve one of your damn puzzles. And I get that figuring this out for Wilson was important, but he would have eventually figured out that Amber was on that bus. It wasn’t worth this,” she said sincerely.
She sat with him in silence a while longer. “I’m going to find out how Wilson’s doing, but I’ll be watching the central monitor. So, no slacking off,” she said when she saw respiratory therapy approaching to give House his nebulizer treatment. She gave the hand she held a light squeeze before exiting.
She was transfixed on House’s monitor as she waited for Wilson to answer.
“Doctor Chase,” came the answer.
“Oh, Chase, how is he?” Cuddy asked.
“She’s critical, in a coma, intubated, splenic rupture, head trauma, unstable cardiovascular status, renal failure, she’s had several surgeries already including an ABK right leg amputation. It’s bad,” Chase said in summation of Amber’s laundry list of afflictions.
“Jeez,” Cuddy said sadly. “But how’s Wilson?” she asked again.
“He’s a bit shell-shocked. They haven’t given her a great chance of survival. He’s with her now.”
“Okay, well let him know I called.”
“Sure, how’s House? Wilson’s been waiting on an update.”
“He’s holding his own. Breathing’s stable, occasional arrhythmia, but they’ve been resolving without intervention, he’s still unconscious and scheduled for a repeat head CT soon. If there’s a progression or he doesn’t wake soon, we’ll probably bolt him. Call my cell whenever Wilson wants an update.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“All right,” Cuddy said in conclusion. The respiratory therapist was exiting House’s room.
She took up her spot by House’s side again. And focused on willing things better for her boys.
Words: 1000
Rating: PG13
Summary: Post-ep for House's Head focusing on the House-Wilson-Cuddy friendship.
Part 1
Hospital administration, being friends with House, it was all like running toward a burning building. Cuddy knew this, but she also knew what she was running from; tacit acceptance of the world as it was, loneliness, boredom. She studied the empty bus for another moment, allowing its desolation to spur her forward.
A quick stop in her office told her House was in ICU bed four. She gave her assistant instructions before speeding off. She saw House in a semi-upright position and realized the CT results were not good, but not dire. If it were dire, his bed would be in a fully upright position to try to relieve the increased intracranial pressure. Cameron and Foreman were both hovering close, but the monitors appeared stable for now.
“How is he?” she asked as she entered the room.
“Still unconsciousness. CT showed some progression of the cerebral edema. I’ve got another scheduled in a couple of hours. If it shows progression, or he’s still unconscious then, I think we should consider bolting him,” Foreman answered.
Cuddy shut her eyes as she nodded. Bolting a patient always seemed like medieval torture, though drilling in was the quickest and best way to relieve the pressure. The opening pressure would also give them a better sense of how severe this injury really was.
“And the EKG?” she asked.
“The bradycardia seems to have resolved after 2 doses of atropine. Monitor is showing occasional irregularities that are self-limited,” Cameron answered.
“I don’t want to put anything else in his system if we can avoid it, but I want those monitors and him followed closely. We’re going to let the Unit staff do what they do, but I don’t want you two going far.” Cuddy stated with an authority that allowed no argument.
“Sure,” Cameron answered for both of them.
“Good, how’s his breathing?”
“Better now. We had him on a face mask, but switched him to the nasal cannula after he got a neb. His sats are in the 90s on three liters. He’s written for round the clock nebs too.”
“Okay, the Unit knows how to handle breathing better than any of us, we’ll leave that to them. You can sign House out to them, but expect a page when he wakes up.”
“Right, I’ll be back when he’s due for that head CT if he’s not up before then,” Foreman said before exiting the room.
“Okay,” Cuddy said taking her seat next to House’s bed.
“He’s going to be okay,” Cameron said before parting.
He damn sure is, Cuddy thought to herself.
She studied him, completing her mind’s clinical assessment before allowing the gentle rise and fall of his chest and rhythm of the monitor to comfort her. They lulled her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had simply sat still for so long.
The fear that House still might not make it began to creep into her consciousness though. She had to stamp it out. So, she did what she enjoyed most about her relationship with House. She picked a fight.
“Of all the idiotic stunts you’ve pulled, risking your life like that? How could you? You’re lucky you didn’t herniate. Yes, I know physostigmine lowers your heart rate and BP and that’s technically protective against herniation, but cardiac arrest tends to screw things up now, doesn’t it?” Cuddy said with all the gusto as when she was verbally sparring with House.
“How many times do you think your heart is going to stop before it decides not to restart again? God damn it. Where did you even get the physostigmine? Haven’t you had enough trouble with taking medications that were not prescribed to you? Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten how big you owe me. I’m calling in that favor,” she said grabbing his hand.
“Yes, I’m holding your hand. We’re not in junior high. Deal with it. So, about that favor, you are going to regain consciousness, and your heart rate and breathing are going to return to normal. You are going to rest and take it easy and let your brain and your skull heal. And, you are going to stop playing these damn games with your life,” she ordered.
“I’m aging fast enough without your help. And you, my friend, are aging way too fast. So get back and get better, and stop taking these stupid risks. I know you think the world itself would stop spinning if you didn’t solve one of your damn puzzles. And I get that figuring this out for Wilson was important, but he would have eventually figured out that Amber was on that bus. It wasn’t worth this,” she said sincerely.
She sat with him in silence a while longer. “I’m going to find out how Wilson’s doing, but I’ll be watching the central monitor. So, no slacking off,” she said when she saw respiratory therapy approaching to give House his nebulizer treatment. She gave the hand she held a light squeeze before exiting.
She was transfixed on House’s monitor as she waited for Wilson to answer.
“Doctor Chase,” came the answer.
“Oh, Chase, how is he?” Cuddy asked.
“She’s critical, in a coma, intubated, splenic rupture, head trauma, unstable cardiovascular status, renal failure, she’s had several surgeries already including an ABK right leg amputation. It’s bad,” Chase said in summation of Amber’s laundry list of afflictions.
“Jeez,” Cuddy said sadly. “But how’s Wilson?” she asked again.
“He’s a bit shell-shocked. They haven’t given her a great chance of survival. He’s with her now.”
“Okay, well let him know I called.”
“Sure, how’s House? Wilson’s been waiting on an update.”
“He’s holding his own. Breathing’s stable, occasional arrhythmia, but they’ve been resolving without intervention, he’s still unconscious and scheduled for a repeat head CT soon. If there’s a progression or he doesn’t wake soon, we’ll probably bolt him. Call my cell whenever Wilson wants an update.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“All right,” Cuddy said in conclusion. The respiratory therapist was exiting House’s room.
She took up her spot by House’s side again. And focused on willing things better for her boys.