Foreman tells House it's Reye's syndrome. The aspirin that caused it wasn't in the medicine cabinet. Mrs. Andres ground it up for the soil. House agrees with the diagnosis. Clearly, Andres had a sore throat, took an aspirin, and repeated... a lot. And Foreman has already had Chase start him on steroids. "So why tell me?" "Because I wanted you to hear it from me." Foreman walks away, somewhat smugly.
Andres wakes, smiles at his wife, and says, "There she is." And he asks what happened to her eye. "Nothing I can't handle," she says, choosing not to tell him that he punched her in the face.
House plays with a lighter. Wilson comes in to say that the guy was diagnosed with macroprolactinoma. He's doing the treatment. "And the wife?" Wilson hands House a hundred-dollar bill. House soothes Wilson with the thought of saving a life. He does, in fact, set the bill on fire and light a cigar. Wilson lights his own cigar, because why not? Wilson does feebly object that they can't smoke in there, but he doesn't seem that insistent on it. A guy enters. "Is one of you Dr. House?" It's an order to deactivate and remove his ankle monitor.
Chase, to strummy guitar music, calls his sister. It's been years. "I thought of you on mom's birthday." He awkwardly makes small talk. I don't care about Chase's long journey to this phone call.
House enters Foreman's office. Foreman signs on to that training wheel metaphor. House knocks over his pencil cup in as petty a manner as possible, which made me laugh. Out loud, as the kids say.
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