Wilson goes tattling to House, who looks kind of cleaned up today, with his almost-groomed stubble and smart new turtleneck. I don't like it on him, but I don't like how turtlenecks look on anyone. House doesn't think an oncologist should doubt the advice of a neurologist when it comes to neurological disorders, but Wilson gets all whiny and says he really wants the woman to get medical attention. House suspects that there's something personal at stake here for Wilson, and takes the file.
The differential diagnosis is already in progress (Cameron: arm twitch = mini-seizure, Chase: arm twitch = brain tumor) when Foreman strolls in. House is still on his first-name kick from the last episode when he tells "Eric" that he is glad Foreman could find the time to do his job. Foreman's differential diagnosis: arm twitch = discharge. Wilson snaps that Jane Doe is HIS patient, and HE wants a second opinion. Foreman recommends doing an MRI and then kicking her out once it inevitably turns out normal results. And how many times has this show told us that normal MRIs are hiding various serious diseases? Seems to me like MRIs aren't indicators of anything. Foreman flips through a magazine and says he knows homeless people better than Wilson does, so he knows that all of them go to the ER for the free meals. They'd have more fun and get better food in jail, I'd say.
House grabs Jane Doe's bag and throws it on the table. He thinks its contents will help them figure out who she is. Foreman asks if the only reason why House is taking this case is because Wilson asked him to, and Chase and Cameron exchange "oh, no he DI-IN'T!" glances, not able to believe that Foreman called out the relationship they've all been joking about behind closed lab doors. House and Wilson exchange a look, and then House dumps the lady's crap all over the table instead of answering. He thinks the bag will contain a clue as to what Jane Doe's real identity is, and therefore, her medical history. Everyone else wrinkles their noses at the incredible reek of Jane's bag. Whatever Jane has in that bag, it's got to be pretty bad to elicit such reactions from people who have taken gross anatomy and been exposed to god knows what other wonderful things the human body is capable of secreting. Foreman picks out a syringe and holds it up with his bare hands because apparently he wants hepatitis, and says it looks like an insulin syringe. Wilson owes Foreman twenty bucks. House finds a rag soaked with fresh vomit, which I guess explains the smell. He waves it in front of Chase's face. Chase is not pleased. "Trying to make me hurl?" he says. And I thought Wayne's World lingo went out even before raves did, but apparently that, too, is still alive and well in New Jersey. House then tastes a little of the vomit, at which point Cameron appears to throw up in her mouth a little, literally. "Salty!" House says. "Chemical imbalance." Whatever it is, House had better hope it's not contagious through saliva! House orders some IV electrolytes to replenish Jane's chemicals, and Wilson -- who didn't even blink when his friend ate vomit, so well does he know him -- is most appreciative. Foreman glares. Chase and Cameron leave to hurl.