An impossibly brave little girl with terminal cancer sings along to Christina Aguilera and starts hallucinating. That's probably not a coincidence. Wilson brings the case to Hay Fever House, who immediately and hilariously takes Cameron off of it, although she does get to work on it later and even does a good job and if the writers keep her like this, I might like her one day. In the end, Cancer Girl has, like, seven different kinds of cancer, but the biggest problem is a blood clot in her brain. The only way to find out where it is to see if it even can be removed is to "reboot" the girl: they technically kill her for a minute, do some weird circulation stuff with her blood, and then bring her back. This also involves BOLTING HER HEAD TO THE TABLE WITH A POWER DRILL. Holy crap. Foreman finds the clot, and House takes his word for it, and then there are a few scary moments when it looks like Foreman was wrong, but the surgeons find the clot and Cancer Girl gets to live for another year. House makes a bunch of sarcastic comments about her bravery in the face of death, but in the end, when he's done doing lines of Benadryl, he lets her hug him and then goes off to try to live a little. Also, Chase kisses the Cancer Girl at her request and it's really weird, and I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it yet.
The "play" button is pressed on a pink CD player, and Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful" comes on. A bald girl sings along to it as she puts on her wig; this scene would have been really annoying and over-the-top schmaltzy if the girl doing the singing along hadn't done it so perfectly imperfect. She sounds just like I do when I sing along to stuff in my car. Except that I'm not singing along to Christina Aguilera. Ever. Except for the occasional "Dirrty" when I'm on my way to a party or something. And maybe "Genie in a Bottle" if it comes on at the right time in the right place. In case you didn't figure out that the girl is bald from cancer, she then goes to the medicine cabinet of what appears to be her own private bathroom (lucky! Oh, well, I guess not really) and takes out a bunch of pills. Mom pops her head in to nag the girl to take all her meds, even though the girl is doing it as she speaks, so chill out, Mom. Girl injects her knee with a syringe filled with what I'm guessing is cancer medicine. And then stuff starts going wrong. The walls cave in, pills fall all over the place, tiles fly off the wall and shatter on the floor, Christina Aguilera becomes the poster girl for clean, moral living, pipes burst, and the mirror shatters at the girl's touch. Of course, this is all actually happening in her mind, as we cut to the normal bathroom, where everything is fine, except the mirror and the girl's hand, which are still cracked and bleeding, respectively. Christina Aguilera strikes again!
We hear House sneeze before we see him get off the elevator. He's on his way home sick, but Wilson needs his help. Just thirty minutes of his time. Although we all know it's going to be an hour, which is actually forty-two minutes with commercials. But anyway, House makes the most unattractive about-to-sneeze face I've ever seen, and that includes the unfortunate girl in my eleventh-grade class whose school picture was taken just before she sneezed, and the height of her about-to-sneeze face was committed to film and immortalized in hundreds of yearbooks. The urge to sneeze passes, and Wilson recommends Benadryl. House says that he's already taken a thousand milligrams of it, which is probably ten times to recommended dose, knowing House. Wilson's next suggestion is a steam room, and it's nice of them to get the homoerotic scene of the episode out of the way quickly so that we can focus on other things. Wilson says he's got a nine-year-old with alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, and that it's terminal, which Wilson thinks should "trump" House's stuffy nose. House disagrees. Wilson adds that the girl is hallucinating, but that no cancer has been detected in her brain. If House can help her, he'll give her another year to live, which is a lot for a nine-year-old girl, even if it is just a drop in the bucket to a cranky middle-aged guy on a cane. House is on the case, but not because he cares about the girl.