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Mutiny (#17 Group Think)
Title: Mutiny
Rating: PG
Word Count: 557
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30 #17 Group Think
Author's Note: Table with links to other completed prompts can be found here.
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"It's diabetes," Chase said, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
"It's not diabetes. The insulin wasn't helping, and that's too boring." House stood before the whiteboard, slowly twirling his cane as he looked over the symptoms.
"Maybe it's just a simple case." That one was Foreman.
"All this time together and you still don't know me," House leveled his gaze at Foreman, who looked back expectantly. "A med student could diagnose diabetes. It's something else."
"IGT?" Cameron suggested.
"That's just the weak and pathetic form of diabetes."
"Paresthesias could be a symptom of lupus," Cameron tried again, and House could tell that she was grasping.
"What's with you and lupus? Are you taking pointers from Chase and just repeating the same diseases over and over?"
Chase made an expression like he was smelling bad cheese. "You're the one being stubborn and not admitting it's diabetes. Her glucose levels aren't changing with insulin, so maybe it's Type 2."
House hung his cane over the whiteboard, grabbing a marker, and making checkmarks next to individual symptoms as he went down the board. Headaches. Nausea with vomiting. Hyperglycemia. Paresthesias. Sure diabetes was a perfect fit, but it was also an easy fit - the boring fit. The dozens of doctors and specialists the patient had seen before arriving at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital would have been able to diagnose diabetes. If it really were diabetes, House wouldn't have ended up with the case.
"Pheochromocytoma," House said triumphantly, turning to his fellows with a smug expression.
"A tumor in the adrenal glands?" Foreman asked, eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "We would've seen that in the blood work."
"Not if we weren't looking for catecholamines," Cameron countered, and House beamed with pride. They were learning so well it almost made his heart swell. "We can rerun the blood test, do a urine test in case the blood work comes back negative, and then seen if we can find it with the MRI."
"Page Wilson - we have a tumor for him to play with."
"Shouldn't we run the tests first before scaring the woman? It could still be diabetes."
House turned, giving Chase a withering glare. "Cameron believes me; why can't you jump on the wagon, too?"
"I never said I believed you. I think it is a viable possibility, though." Cameron closed the case folder, turning towards the glass doors of the office. "I'll start the blood work. I think you should listen to Chase and wait before calling Doctor Wilson."
House looked at Foreman, but he could see that the neurologist was in agreement with Chase and Cameron. House let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll wait, but you three are going to be sharing my clinic hours for a month when you find out I'm right. I can't wait to see those samples lit up with catecholamines."
"Can't wait for the day you're wrong, House," Foreman said, leaving after the other two with a shake of his head.
House could, though. The day he was wrong would be the day he retired the lab coat he never wore. He fingered open the bottle of Vicodin in his pocket, tossing two in his mouth. His fellows were gaining confidence with their medical knowledge, but that didn't change the basic fact that Doctor Gregory House was never wrong.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 557
Prompt:
psych_30 #17 Group ThinkAuthor's Note: Table with links to other completed prompts can be found here.
+++
"It's diabetes," Chase said, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
"It's not diabetes. The insulin wasn't helping, and that's too boring." House stood before the whiteboard, slowly twirling his cane as he looked over the symptoms.
"Maybe it's just a simple case." That one was Foreman.
"All this time together and you still don't know me," House leveled his gaze at Foreman, who looked back expectantly. "A med student could diagnose diabetes. It's something else."
"IGT?" Cameron suggested.
"That's just the weak and pathetic form of diabetes."
"Paresthesias could be a symptom of lupus," Cameron tried again, and House could tell that she was grasping.
"What's with you and lupus? Are you taking pointers from Chase and just repeating the same diseases over and over?"
Chase made an expression like he was smelling bad cheese. "You're the one being stubborn and not admitting it's diabetes. Her glucose levels aren't changing with insulin, so maybe it's Type 2."
House hung his cane over the whiteboard, grabbing a marker, and making checkmarks next to individual symptoms as he went down the board. Headaches. Nausea with vomiting. Hyperglycemia. Paresthesias. Sure diabetes was a perfect fit, but it was also an easy fit - the boring fit. The dozens of doctors and specialists the patient had seen before arriving at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital would have been able to diagnose diabetes. If it really were diabetes, House wouldn't have ended up with the case.
"Pheochromocytoma," House said triumphantly, turning to his fellows with a smug expression.
"A tumor in the adrenal glands?" Foreman asked, eyebrows climbing up his forehead. "We would've seen that in the blood work."
"Not if we weren't looking for catecholamines," Cameron countered, and House beamed with pride. They were learning so well it almost made his heart swell. "We can rerun the blood test, do a urine test in case the blood work comes back negative, and then seen if we can find it with the MRI."
"Page Wilson - we have a tumor for him to play with."
"Shouldn't we run the tests first before scaring the woman? It could still be diabetes."
House turned, giving Chase a withering glare. "Cameron believes me; why can't you jump on the wagon, too?"
"I never said I believed you. I think it is a viable possibility, though." Cameron closed the case folder, turning towards the glass doors of the office. "I'll start the blood work. I think you should listen to Chase and wait before calling Doctor Wilson."
House looked at Foreman, but he could see that the neurologist was in agreement with Chase and Cameron. House let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll wait, but you three are going to be sharing my clinic hours for a month when you find out I'm right. I can't wait to see those samples lit up with catecholamines."
"Can't wait for the day you're wrong, House," Foreman said, leaving after the other two with a shake of his head.
House could, though. The day he was wrong would be the day he retired the lab coat he never wore. He fingered open the bottle of Vicodin in his pocket, tossing two in his mouth. His fellows were gaining confidence with their medical knowledge, but that didn't change the basic fact that Doctor Gregory House was never wrong.
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And thank you oh so much for doing research before you started spouting off medical terms. Nothing makes my head hurt more in this fandom then people pretending to know what they're talking about.
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