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No Pain, No Gain

Overhead shot of the hospital. Inside, Foreman takes a gander and sees a retinal clot in Larry's left eye. Cameron suggests heparin, which Chase shoots down by expositioning that they can't treat Larry with a blood thinner when he's got internal bleeding: "Fix the eye, kill everything else." Foreman adds that "surgery's out for the same reason," and Chase ups the stakes by observing that, if they don't best Mystery Eye Blob in two hours, he'll lose the eye. Larry will, not Chase. House's cane looms into the left-hand side of the shot as House pronounces sermon-on-the-mount-ily, "Forget the eye," adding meanly that Larry can "use the other one to look on the bright side." House crutches into the room and says, sounding exhausted and congested, that "the clot tells us something." Circling the table, rubbing his forehead, he goes on that it can help them figure out what Larry has, and as he says that, then, Larry "gets to live," Foreman regards him curiously and shoots a look at Cameron, who shrugs back all "I dunno." House asks again for a differential diagnosis -- how does uncontrollable internal bleeding turn into clotting? Chase pipes up for the benefit of the radio audience that they're "opposing processes," and Cameron takes another run at her diagnosis, saying it happens sometimes with lupus. Wilson, randomly in the room all of a sudden, gets coffee and shoots Cameron down; House agrees with Wilson, but also with me, wondering what Wilson is doing there, anyway, since they've ruled out cancer. "I was lonely," Wilson says, adorably. House grouchily suggests he go see Cuddy, then, since she could use a friend, and Wilson says pointedly that Cuddy said the same thing about House. House catches on, accusing Cuddy of sending Wilson to "keep an eye on" him and make sure he doesn't "cheat," at which Cameron looks up sharply and Foreman makes a "the hell?" face. Wilson cracks a weak "shots from the clock tower" joke. House repeats, wearily, that he's fine, and he's about to make his escape when Cameron whinily demands to know what's going on.

Wilson is only too happy to announce that House hasn't had any Vicodin in over a day. Cameron looks flummoxed; Foreman is more "oh, gotcha" and asks if it's House's leg. Duh, Foreman. Foreman lectures House about the side effects of detox while Cameron looks panicky, but House isn't trying to hear that and asks in a yell if he's the only one "who cares about a dying kid?" Chastened, the Housemartins return to the subject of the diagnosis; Chase volunteers that the most likely culprits for throwing a clot are infection or cancer. Wilson reminds them it ain't cancer. Foreman says his tests did not reveal an infection; House points out that certain things can hide from the tests Foreman performed, and is about to elaborate on that thought when he gets distracted by a hottie doing stretches in a neighboring office. The Housiputians talk amongst themselves. Coming back to himself, House asks what happened. Foreman, testily: "It's an infection? In his heart?" "Great!" House chirps, orders an echo and antibiotics, and goes back to bird-dogging while the Housizens pull "oh, Alice" faces and gather up their things in the background. Wilson joins House in observing the hottie. House: "Is it my birthday?"

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