Bestest Buddy 20: Buzzed
(Another rush job - sorry)
Sammy waited for the lecture he was sure would come. House leaned forward to peer into Sammy's eyes. He reached down under the coffee table, grabbed his own knapsack, and pulled out his disused penlight. “Your pupils are sluggish - slow to respond to the light,” he casually observed. He checked Sammy's pulse and respiration, but didn't say anything.
“How long have you been doing this, Sam?”
Sammy shrugged. “I dunno.”
House sighed. He was tired, and he wanted all the answers NOW so that he could get some sleep. But he knew that he had to tread lightly with David's only friend. “Okay - did you take the coffee last year, when you were eight?”
Sammy nodded.
“When you were seven?”
Again, Sammy nodded.
“Six?”
Sammy had to think about that for a moment. “I don't think so.”
House noticed that Sammy's knees were beginning to jiggle. He reached out and tried to hold one of them in place. David had said during the differential that Sammy seemed to vibrate when he went bonkers. “Are you scared right now?” House asked as he released the knee and watched it dance again.
The boy shrugged. “I-I don't know. A little.” He started wiggling his feet at his ankles, hard and fast.
House regarded the little boy coolly. At least this was going to be interesting. He'd get to watch a kid totally strung out on caffeine.
Sammy couldn't sit down any longer. He jumped up and walked around the table, once...twice. “I think it makes my ADHD act up, House,” he told the doctor.
“Huh,” House was sure by now that Sammy's ADHD was a big old myth - or at least it had nothing to do with what was wrong with Sammy tonight. “Stand still until I tell you you can move.”
“Okay...” Sammy froze in place like a soldier.
Then House distracted him with: “How did you start taking the coffee?”
The boy shrugged. While he thought about how to answer, his body started moving, unbidden. “I just notice that chocolate and Cokes made my …. made me feel better...different.” Sammy started jumping then. “I think I learned about coffee by accident. It works better thananythingelse.”
House didn't miss that Sam's speech suddenly accelerated significantly. “Sam - hold still,” House reminded him.
Sammy slapped his hands to his sides and held still for thirty seconds before he started moving again, this time, jumping jacks.
The master bedroom door opened, and Wilson stumbled out, sleepily pulling on House's bathrobe over his bare chest and pajama bottoms. “What's up with all the jumping?
It took Sam three hours to settle down. David's dads took turns observing the boy in half hour shifts, and pushing him to drink bottles of water. During that time, Sam did spontaneous callisthenics, talked incessantly, and sang. When he did actually sit down, he popped back up within the next minute. Wilson had gotten a notepad and started writing down everything the boy did. House just used his cellphone to record what he thought was interesting.
“Hey-hey-hey Wilson?”
A bleary-eyed Wilson replied, “Yeah?”
“Or House. You can answer too,” he said. “I mean, the question is for anybody. It's a toss-up. You know - like multiple-choice.” He stopped himself. “No - no, that's not it. It's multiple answer-ers, not multiple answers. Yeah, that.”
House had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from laughing out loud.
“What's your question, Sammy?” Wilson asked.
Sammy did a sloppy cartwheel in front of the coffee table. “If I promise, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-my-eye-eat-a-horse-manure-pie...”
House couldn't contain himself over that one, and snorted with laughter.
“Shut UP, Greg,” Wilson hissed. “If you promise what, Sam?”
“To not to...for...wait. Not to do it again - yeah. If I don't do it again - with the coffee, you know...”
“Yeah...?” Wilson prompted.
“Not to tell my parents. 'Cause-'cause-'cause what they don't know won't hurt 'em, right?”
Wilson shook his head. “Might hurt you, though,” he told Sammy.
“He's gonna hate me,” Sammy confessed.
“We're on your side, Sammy. When we talk to your parents, we'll make sure they understand that you accidentally got into this.” Wilson squeezed the little boy's shoulder reassuringly.
Sam switched gears instantly. “You got any food here? I'm starving.”
“Want a PBJ?” Wilson offered.
“Yeah, that'll work.”
Wilson left House to his observation, and went off to the kitchen.
Sammy picked up House's cane and started dancing with it. “Peanut butter jelly, Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly, with a baseball bat.”
House grabbed the cane away just as Sammy was about to swing hard near the lamp on the end-table.
At the Chu's House, Wilson and David delivered an exhausted Sammy. It was only 10AM, hours before the sleepover was supposed to have ended. David had been disappointed again, but Wilson had distracted the boy by involving him.
“David, tell Liz what happens in school with Sammy and the medicine he takes.”
David leaned against his dad, feeling a slight need for protection against Tom Chu's angry face. The minute Sammy's mom opened the front door for them, Sammy's dad assumed that his son had blown up their house or something.
“What have you done?” were the first words out of Tom's mouth.
“Hey...hey....okay, everything's fine,” Wilson was holding his hands in front of him, showing his usual 'hold on there a minute' gesture.
House barged into the conversation head first. “Your kid is addicted to caffeine,” he told them simply.
Tom and Liz looked at one another, frowning. “What?” They asked simultaneously.
Wilson grasped House's forearm and squeezed it repressively. “DAVID?”
House shut up, knowing that his partner would do this the right way. Wilson's mad manipulative skills would ease the parents' reaction to Sammy's problem considerably. He waited.
“The other day, Sam wasn't paying attention in class even before lunchtime, so Mr. Burdette made him go to the nurse.” He eyed his best friend, hoping that Sammy wouldn't hate him for spilling the beans. “He went into the boys' room, into one of the stalls for about half a minute, then came back out... I thought I smelled coffee, but I wasn't sure.”
“Coffee?” Tom asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
House produced the recycled prescription vial. “Instant.”
Tom glared at his son. “Where did you get...?”
“Let's hear what David saw first, Tom,” Wilson interrupted.
David thought for a moment. He wasn't used to having all the eyes on him, and people actually listening to what he was saying. It was a good thing that he had gotten a little practice at the differential the other day.
“By the time we left Miss Biggam's office, he was getting all weird. Jumping around, and making noise in the hall. I couldn't get him to stop, so I went right back to class.”
Tom Chu's expression was murderous. It scared David. He stopped talking.”
Annoyed with Tom's bullying, House grabbed his son's arms and turned him around so that he was standing in front of House, and facing only him. “You're doing fine, buddy,” he said in his softest voice. “Just tell Dad, okay?”
David continued hesitantly. “H-he got back in class and started drawing pictures on his test paper. ...aaand he got all buzzy...”
“Buzzy?” Liz asked, puzzled.
David turned to her and held out one hand, making it tremble slightly. “Like this, but less...smaller shakes...” He lowered his hand. “After a while, it was time to take his pay attention pill, so we went back to the nurse.”
“What happened after the pill?” House asked.
“I think...they make him take those pills after lunch, but they don't make him pay attention,” David said resolutely. “He doesn't pay attention, they just make him dopey.”
“Because...?” House prompted.
“'Cause he just stares and doesn't do anything but pretend to do his schoolwork.”
“I don't pretend!” Sammy exclaimed. “I try to do all of it, but it doesn't make sense. The words keep moving...”
“...from the caffeine, or the Ritalin,” House explained. “Or both at the same time.
Wilson got rid of the kids by sending them to play in Sammy's basement.
“First of all,” House said to Liz and Tom Chu, “Sammy probably doesn't have ADHD.” He set the vial down on the coffee table.
“He has been diagnosed...” Tom began.
House cut him off. “...yeah, whoever gave you the initial diagnosis was an idiot. Your son is addicted to caffeine, which makes him go nuts after he ingests it. Kids with ADHD actually calm down after they've had caffeine.”
Liz shook her head slowly. “But why one earth would he even think to drink coffee?”
“He doesn't drink it, he eats the dry stuff.” House remembered Sam's creepy drug ritual, but decided not to share that with his parents.
“Dry coffee?”
House just shrugged. “Somehow, for some reason, your son started eating chocolate and colas - he says it makes him feel better. At some point, he graduated to coffee, because it's stronger, and gives him more caffeine.” He leaned back a bit in his chair. “Eventually, he became so dependent on the caffeine that he's having caffeine withdrawal headaches.”
Liz glared at her husband. “Do you believe he has headaches now?”
Tom gave a guilty start, then covered up with: “He seems to have brought this on himself, Liz.”
Liz's glared hardened, if that was possible. “He's a little boy. A child in pain needs to be believed - and - and TREATED, regardless of the reason he's in pain!”
“Why would he do this in the first place? What child thinks: 'I think I'll have some dry, instant coffee for a snack today?'” Tom bickered back.
House shrugged. “Kids do stupid things, sometimes. Maybe he thought it was fun to get buzzed.”
Before Liz and Tom could react to that, Wilson stepped in with: “Let's try to focus on getting Sammy better, for right now. He really needs the help of people who love him.”
For just a moment, House marveled at how easily Wilson was able to make them feel guilty enough to shut them up and refocus. With two simple sentences.
“I'm not sure that Sam would remember why he started with the caffeine. He's been doing it for at least two years.”
Both Sammy's parents' mouths gaped open. Then Liz got herself under control. “That's even before we started him on Ritalin.”
House started bouncing his cane on the floor in front of him. “Makes sense,” he mused. “A kid starts a weird caffeine habit, gets hyper, and is misdiagnosed with ADHD. He's given Ritalin, which doesn't work, because he doesn't need it - makes him dopey instead of focused, because he doesn't need it. Over time, his brain and adjusted itself to accommodate the increase in neurotransmitters, which might make it hard for him to concentrate, even when he's not using the coffee. Which, by now, makes his behavior look even more like ADHD.”
“Vicious cycle,” Wilson mused.
House looked at both of Sammy's parents. “Which needs to be broken now. Because personality changes - depression - is next on the agenda for your son if he keeps this up.”
Sammy waited for the lecture he was sure would come. House leaned forward to peer into Sammy's eyes. He reached down under the coffee table, grabbed his own knapsack, and pulled out his disused penlight. “Your pupils are sluggish - slow to respond to the light,” he casually observed. He checked Sammy's pulse and respiration, but didn't say anything.
“How long have you been doing this, Sam?”
Sammy shrugged. “I dunno.”
House sighed. He was tired, and he wanted all the answers NOW so that he could get some sleep. But he knew that he had to tread lightly with David's only friend. “Okay - did you take the coffee last year, when you were eight?”
Sammy nodded.
“When you were seven?”
Again, Sammy nodded.
“Six?”
Sammy had to think about that for a moment. “I don't think so.”
House noticed that Sammy's knees were beginning to jiggle. He reached out and tried to hold one of them in place. David had said during the differential that Sammy seemed to vibrate when he went bonkers. “Are you scared right now?” House asked as he released the knee and watched it dance again.
The boy shrugged. “I-I don't know. A little.” He started wiggling his feet at his ankles, hard and fast.
House regarded the little boy coolly. At least this was going to be interesting. He'd get to watch a kid totally strung out on caffeine.
Sammy couldn't sit down any longer. He jumped up and walked around the table, once...twice. “I think it makes my ADHD act up, House,” he told the doctor.
“Huh,” House was sure by now that Sammy's ADHD was a big old myth - or at least it had nothing to do with what was wrong with Sammy tonight. “Stand still until I tell you you can move.”
“Okay...” Sammy froze in place like a soldier.
Then House distracted him with: “How did you start taking the coffee?”
The boy shrugged. While he thought about how to answer, his body started moving, unbidden. “I just notice that chocolate and Cokes made my …. made me feel better...different.” Sammy started jumping then. “I think I learned about coffee by accident. It works better thananythingelse.”
House didn't miss that Sam's speech suddenly accelerated significantly. “Sam - hold still,” House reminded him.
Sammy slapped his hands to his sides and held still for thirty seconds before he started moving again, this time, jumping jacks.
The master bedroom door opened, and Wilson stumbled out, sleepily pulling on House's bathrobe over his bare chest and pajama bottoms. “What's up with all the jumping?
It took Sam three hours to settle down. David's dads took turns observing the boy in half hour shifts, and pushing him to drink bottles of water. During that time, Sam did spontaneous callisthenics, talked incessantly, and sang. When he did actually sit down, he popped back up within the next minute. Wilson had gotten a notepad and started writing down everything the boy did. House just used his cellphone to record what he thought was interesting.
“Hey-hey-hey Wilson?”
A bleary-eyed Wilson replied, “Yeah?”
“Or House. You can answer too,” he said. “I mean, the question is for anybody. It's a toss-up. You know - like multiple-choice.” He stopped himself. “No - no, that's not it. It's multiple answer-ers, not multiple answers. Yeah, that.”
House had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from laughing out loud.
“What's your question, Sammy?” Wilson asked.
Sammy did a sloppy cartwheel in front of the coffee table. “If I promise, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-my-eye-eat-a-horse-manure-pie...”
House couldn't contain himself over that one, and snorted with laughter.
“Shut UP, Greg,” Wilson hissed. “If you promise what, Sam?”
“To not to...for...wait. Not to do it again - yeah. If I don't do it again - with the coffee, you know...”
“Yeah...?” Wilson prompted.
“Not to tell my parents. 'Cause-'cause-'cause what they don't know won't hurt 'em, right?”
Wilson shook his head. “Might hurt you, though,” he told Sammy.
“He's gonna hate me,” Sammy confessed.
“We're on your side, Sammy. When we talk to your parents, we'll make sure they understand that you accidentally got into this.” Wilson squeezed the little boy's shoulder reassuringly.
Sam switched gears instantly. “You got any food here? I'm starving.”
“Want a PBJ?” Wilson offered.
“Yeah, that'll work.”
Wilson left House to his observation, and went off to the kitchen.
Sammy picked up House's cane and started dancing with it. “Peanut butter jelly, Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly, with a baseball bat.”
House grabbed the cane away just as Sammy was about to swing hard near the lamp on the end-table.
At the Chu's House, Wilson and David delivered an exhausted Sammy. It was only 10AM, hours before the sleepover was supposed to have ended. David had been disappointed again, but Wilson had distracted the boy by involving him.
“David, tell Liz what happens in school with Sammy and the medicine he takes.”
David leaned against his dad, feeling a slight need for protection against Tom Chu's angry face. The minute Sammy's mom opened the front door for them, Sammy's dad assumed that his son had blown up their house or something.
“What have you done?” were the first words out of Tom's mouth.
“Hey...hey....okay, everything's fine,” Wilson was holding his hands in front of him, showing his usual 'hold on there a minute' gesture.
House barged into the conversation head first. “Your kid is addicted to caffeine,” he told them simply.
Tom and Liz looked at one another, frowning. “What?” They asked simultaneously.
Wilson grasped House's forearm and squeezed it repressively. “DAVID?”
House shut up, knowing that his partner would do this the right way. Wilson's mad manipulative skills would ease the parents' reaction to Sammy's problem considerably. He waited.
“The other day, Sam wasn't paying attention in class even before lunchtime, so Mr. Burdette made him go to the nurse.” He eyed his best friend, hoping that Sammy wouldn't hate him for spilling the beans. “He went into the boys' room, into one of the stalls for about half a minute, then came back out... I thought I smelled coffee, but I wasn't sure.”
“Coffee?” Tom asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
House produced the recycled prescription vial. “Instant.”
Tom glared at his son. “Where did you get...?”
“Let's hear what David saw first, Tom,” Wilson interrupted.
David thought for a moment. He wasn't used to having all the eyes on him, and people actually listening to what he was saying. It was a good thing that he had gotten a little practice at the differential the other day.
“By the time we left Miss Biggam's office, he was getting all weird. Jumping around, and making noise in the hall. I couldn't get him to stop, so I went right back to class.”
Tom Chu's expression was murderous. It scared David. He stopped talking.”
Annoyed with Tom's bullying, House grabbed his son's arms and turned him around so that he was standing in front of House, and facing only him. “You're doing fine, buddy,” he said in his softest voice. “Just tell Dad, okay?”
David continued hesitantly. “H-he got back in class and started drawing pictures on his test paper. ...aaand he got all buzzy...”
“Buzzy?” Liz asked, puzzled.
David turned to her and held out one hand, making it tremble slightly. “Like this, but less...smaller shakes...” He lowered his hand. “After a while, it was time to take his pay attention pill, so we went back to the nurse.”
“What happened after the pill?” House asked.
“I think...they make him take those pills after lunch, but they don't make him pay attention,” David said resolutely. “He doesn't pay attention, they just make him dopey.”
“Because...?” House prompted.
“'Cause he just stares and doesn't do anything but pretend to do his schoolwork.”
“I don't pretend!” Sammy exclaimed. “I try to do all of it, but it doesn't make sense. The words keep moving...”
“...from the caffeine, or the Ritalin,” House explained. “Or both at the same time.
Wilson got rid of the kids by sending them to play in Sammy's basement.
“First of all,” House said to Liz and Tom Chu, “Sammy probably doesn't have ADHD.” He set the vial down on the coffee table.
“He has been diagnosed...” Tom began.
House cut him off. “...yeah, whoever gave you the initial diagnosis was an idiot. Your son is addicted to caffeine, which makes him go nuts after he ingests it. Kids with ADHD actually calm down after they've had caffeine.”
Liz shook her head slowly. “But why one earth would he even think to drink coffee?”
“He doesn't drink it, he eats the dry stuff.” House remembered Sam's creepy drug ritual, but decided not to share that with his parents.
“Dry coffee?”
House just shrugged. “Somehow, for some reason, your son started eating chocolate and colas - he says it makes him feel better. At some point, he graduated to coffee, because it's stronger, and gives him more caffeine.” He leaned back a bit in his chair. “Eventually, he became so dependent on the caffeine that he's having caffeine withdrawal headaches.”
Liz glared at her husband. “Do you believe he has headaches now?”
Tom gave a guilty start, then covered up with: “He seems to have brought this on himself, Liz.”
Liz's glared hardened, if that was possible. “He's a little boy. A child in pain needs to be believed - and - and TREATED, regardless of the reason he's in pain!”
“Why would he do this in the first place? What child thinks: 'I think I'll have some dry, instant coffee for a snack today?'” Tom bickered back.
House shrugged. “Kids do stupid things, sometimes. Maybe he thought it was fun to get buzzed.”
Before Liz and Tom could react to that, Wilson stepped in with: “Let's try to focus on getting Sammy better, for right now. He really needs the help of people who love him.”
For just a moment, House marveled at how easily Wilson was able to make them feel guilty enough to shut them up and refocus. With two simple sentences.
“I'm not sure that Sam would remember why he started with the caffeine. He's been doing it for at least two years.”
Both Sammy's parents' mouths gaped open. Then Liz got herself under control. “That's even before we started him on Ritalin.”
House started bouncing his cane on the floor in front of him. “Makes sense,” he mused. “A kid starts a weird caffeine habit, gets hyper, and is misdiagnosed with ADHD. He's given Ritalin, which doesn't work, because he doesn't need it - makes him dopey instead of focused, because he doesn't need it. Over time, his brain and adjusted itself to accommodate the increase in neurotransmitters, which might make it hard for him to concentrate, even when he's not using the coffee. Which, by now, makes his behavior look even more like ADHD.”
“Vicious cycle,” Wilson mused.
House looked at both of Sammy's parents. “Which needs to be broken now. Because personality changes - depression - is next on the agenda for your son if he keeps this up.”