House is just about the only one who does. Even the other Cottages are ready to write Elyce's ailment off as clinical depression and move on to bigger and better crossword puzzles. House says that their case has a fever, so it's not depression. Maybe it's a brain thing, House wonders, giving neurologist Foreman a pointed look. Cameron says that they can rule out vasculitis, which probably goes without saying at this point. Chase is in the middle of suggesting parasites or other tropical nastiness, but Cameron interrupts him with a bitchy exasperated glasses-removal and says that Elyce has never been outside of the United States. Chase says that's what Elyce said, but that doesn't make it true. This gets him props from House, although, really, why would someone lie about whether or not they traveled out of the country? Unless, of course, our wife is actually a secret agent who doesn't want to blow her suburban housewife cover. And in that case, we can't rule out that she's being poisoned by the Russians. House says it must be a brain tumor, then, which Foreman seriously doubts, seeing as Elyce has already been checked for that by her last six doctors. House orders new blood work and an MRI anyway.
Things aren't so blue for House in the clinic today, because his latest patient is a hot little preschool teacher complaining of shortness of breath. He turns to get the handy-dandy EKG machine ready, and she takes off her robe. House turns back around. His eyes bug out, he steps back a bit, and then says: "Good LORD! Are those real?" And then we get a close up of the boobs, which are admittedly generous in size, if housed in a rather ugly bra. Also, are we sure House isn't a misogynist? "Do they look real?" Boob Lady asks. "They look...pretty...damn good," House stammers. Like most people, I don't like going to the doctor because I'm uncomfortable being naked in front of strangers. But everyone says it's not a big deal because doctors look at naked people every day so it's not like they're getting off or evaluating you critically or anything like that. And here comes House drooling over a patient's boobs like a pubescent boy to totally destroy my illusions. Boobs says that the implants were a present for her husband's fortieth birthday, and I have to say, if those actually are implants, they look pretty real. They don't have the cantaloupe-halves shape I traditionally associate with fake boobs. House says the implants may, in fact, be the source of Boobs's problems, but that he needs to call in a colleague who has more experience in these matters. Cameron? Ah, no. That would be Wilson. It's good that Wilson gets some benefits for hanging out with that guy, I guess.