FIC- Fading Addiction Part Fifteen
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Fading Addiction Part Fourteen is here.
Fading Addiction Part Fifteen
Waking up the next morning, it took a while before I remembered the events of the previous night. In fact, when I first opened my eyes my immediate thought was, “I’m going to be sick.” Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I intended on making it to the toilet as fast as possible. Unfortunately, my legs weren’t too keen on cooperating, and before I could take my first step they buckled under me, promptly causing my knees to slam against the floor. Unable to hold it in any longer, I vomited there and then. Considering the lack of food in my stomach, all that came up was the vodka I’d drank, mixed with stomach bile. All in all, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
What a good start to the day.
Once I’d stopped throwing up and felt slightly better, I set about cleaning up the mess I’d made, stopping only to thank God that Cuddy wasn’t here to see me now. She had asked if I wanted her to stay the night, but to be honest, no matter how much I wanted to say yes, I knew that it was a bad idea. It was too much, too fast, and I wasn’t going to fuck things up when I could easily spend the night alone. Well, not easily, but you know what I mean. For a few moments I sat quietly on my couch, hoping that my head would stop spinning, even if it was only a little. I also knew that no matter how much I wanted to exercise, it wasn’t a good idea. Having just vomited, my heart would be working overtime trying to restore the chemicals in my body to the correct levels, and exercising would screw all of that up. As much as it pained me to shower and dress without jogging; it was for the best.
On my way into work, my nerves were shot to pieces at the thought of facing Cuddy again. After our conversation the previous evening she’d sat with me; not saying anything, but just being there. Then, a little later on she’d led me to bed, remaining with me until I’d fallen asleep. I appreciated the fact that she hadn’t forced me to talk, hadn’t forced me to open up, but most of all; hadn’t forced me to eat. All she’d done was be there, and somehow, that was the greatest gift in the entire world that she could have given me. I wasn’t stupid; I knew that sooner rather than later she was going to ask me to talk about things, come to a decision as to what to do. However, having time to prepare myself for this, to decide how much I wanted to reveal, meant everything to me. I called the shots, and somehow, that made it a lot easier.
Once in the diagnosis room, I promptly curled up on the couch, seeing that House was already in the room. Suffering from a hangover, the last thing I wanted to do was be in work, but I was a professional and intended to stay that way. No matter how awful I felt. Trying to sound perky and awake, I smiled and uttered, “Morning, House.”
He glanced up from his gameboy briefly, and mumbled incoherent words in reply. It was only when Chase and Foreman entered the room that he looked up, giving us his full attention.
A rare privilege.
“Any change in Hannah’s condition?” Foreman asked, directing the question at House.
“Foreman… her name is Cameron! You’ve worked with her for years; you should know that by now!” At the confused look on Foreman’s face, House gave a fake exasperated sigh. “And no, she’s still just as skinny as she was yesterday.”
Comprehension dawned upon Foreman, and he exchanged an awkward look with Chase. Evidently they didn’t wish to get involved in this discussion; something I couldn’t blame them for. Ignoring House’s comments, I repeated Foreman’s question. “So have there been any changes in Hannah’s condition?”
House frowned. “Hannah? Who’s Hannah?”
I rolled my eyes. “Our patient, House.”
House looked puzzled for a moment and then all but shrieked, “Ohhh, the spawn! The search turned up nothing.”
“How is she?” I persisted.
“Right, yeah, still the same, only a marginal improvement. No worse, aside from bloating of the stomach but hospital milk is kinda ew. Aside from that though we have nothing more to work with and are still lumbered with it unless her parent’s decide they don’t mind carrying her around with an oxygen tank attached to her for the rest of her life.”
“Right. So… what now?” Chase piped up.
“We can just sit here and wait,” House stated. “Or we can throw around some more diagnoses; try out a treatment or two.”
“But we’ve already treated her for about five different things; we’re running out of options!” Foreman argued.
“There’s always something we’ve missed.” I counter argued. “Isn’t that the whole point of this department?”
“Well said Cameron.” House gave me an approving nod, before lifting himself up from his chair and walking over to the whiteboard. “So… ideas people?”
Trying to ignore the fact that my vision has suddenly turned blurry, I tried to think of a possible cause. There were so many possibilities, each as unlikely as the next. Furthermore, I was finding it hard to run through the criteria for each illness, focus on the board in front of me, listen to House and manage to look alert all at the same time. What’s more, I couldn’t stop thinking about food; as per usual. Nothing had changed except that now, I wasn’t alone in this situation. I had to remember that. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t…
“Cameron!”
I jumped, hearing my name called. My head shot towards the noise, looking over to the left of me where House was standing. “Sorry, did you say something?” I tried to look composed.
“Away with the fairy’s today aren’t we?” He gave an audible sigh of complaint. “Possible diagnosis?”
Saying the first thing that came into my head I blurted out, “Uhhh lactose intolerance.” When all I received were blank stares, I elaborated, “The intolerance to the lactose could cause swelling within her throat once she’s been fed…”
“Except she’s not been fed by bottle since she’s been in here,” House attempted to shoot my idea down.
“The swelling may not have subsided yet,” I said stubbornly.
“Lactose intolerance causes bloating, but not swelling in the throat,” Chase disagreed.
“Generally speaking, yes, but who’s to say Hannah isn’t an individual example? Besides which if her intolerance is that severe and it’s still working it’s way out of her system, it could explain why she isn’t totally better yet. Anyway, she’d need a specific test to confirm it; it wouldn’t show on the blood tests we’ve given her. She’s tiny too so her body wouldn’t be able to cope with the intolerance like a normal person.”
He pondered this for a moment. “That’s an obscure idea. I like it. Chase, go do a stool acidity test to confirm.” He sounded upbeat, evidently in a good mood as he considered my answer a worthy one. “You should reward yourself with some toast.”
Cringing at his words, I tried to stop my face from reddening. I would kill for toast right now. Wait; what was I saying? I didn’t eat toast! What was wrong with me, why did I suddenly want it? This wasn’t good; not good at all. “I’ll see you guys later.” I said abruptly, once again not troubling to reply to House’s sarcasm and hastily standing up. Woops bad idea… flashing lights. Willing myself to stay strong, I left the room without waiting for a sarcastic reply from House or curious questions from Chase or Foreman as to where I was going, which was to see Cuddy. I didn’t want to be followed, watched, or for House to discover that Cuddy and I were more than just friends.