The tests are run. Even Wilson gets to actually be an oncologist and do some work on George. But it's Cameron who gets to give George the results. There's good news and there's bad news. The good news is, George was right that his illness was not caused by his obesity. The bad news is he has small-cell lung carcinoma. It caused paraneoplastic syndrome, which, despite being rare, happens fairly frequently on this show. The paraneoplastic syndrome caused the coma and the blindness. George has a few months to live. "I never smoked," George says. Oh, the irony! And yet, I think I would have liked it better if George eventually did have an obesity-related illness, just because we were all expecting him not to because this show likes to surprise us. Although, I guess a case could be made for the fact that if George's fingers weren't fat, thus concealing his clubbed fingers, his cancer might have been seen earlier before it became terminal. "C'est la vie," George sighs. I just can't believe Cameron actually managed to tell someone he was dying of cancer. Good for her. As for George, well, at least he got several lifetime's worth of food into his one relatively short one.
Cameron shows up at House's office after hours to ask House what he's doing about his court case. He says he'll be fighting it and he's sure that after they get copies of all his prescriptions, the charges will be dropped and all he'll have to worry about is that stupid speeding ticket. Cameron says that's great; House will be able keep going like he always has. Well, maybe he'll be struck down with karmic small cell lung cancer. House is dying to know what morbidly obese person she was related to that gave her such a strong reaction to George. Cameron says that she doesn't have to have personal experience with something to care about a patient. House wonders whether Cameron herself wasn't the fat person, but she still won't say. She's a complicated woman. An enigma around a riddle wrapped up in a vest.
Wilson and Shitter have a late-night conversation about House in Wilson's hotel room. I hope Shitter's not billing the city for overtime hours for this, since this really isn't official police business AT ALL. Wilson maintains that House needs the Vicodin for his pain. Shitter says that sometimes people who need pain pills get addicted to them and then everyone's life is ruined. With that, he shows Wilson two prescriptions from his pad written in two very different handwritings. He asks Wilson to explain. Wilson studies them and tries not to look surprised and pissed off in front of Shitter, even though he really is. Wilson says he signs his name differently sometimes. Yeah, right. Shitter doesn't believe it for a second. He asks Wilson to think about his answer, threatening him with police action if he's lying. Wilson says he's absolutely sure that he wrote both of those prescriptions. Oh, great. So now Shitter is going to go after Wilson, who had nothing to do with House leaving a thermometer in his ass? Revenge is like war: everyone loses.