How to survive a traffic jam and keep cool

It was the Friday before Memorial Day.
Jim and me had to work on Monday but we spent the weekend at Point Pleasant as he already told you in his blog.
We should have known better.

3 p.m. sharp we left PPTH, I whisteled a tune and was more than happy and contented. The thought of spending a cuddly weekend with my honeybun in our cottage lifted my spirits miles high and we both were in an extremely good mood.
The trunk was already packed with Single Malt, wine, stout, delicacies and our small baggage for the weekend.

As soon as we reached the highway we knew it was a fault to choose this weekend for Point Pleasant.
Whole fucking New Jersey was on their way into a loooooong weekend and we've been stuck in a traffic jam for 3 hours.
3 painful and boring hours surrounded by complete idiots and passing by construction sites with lazy workers sunbathing their bellies.
3 hours with only one Vicodin left in the glass I had in my pocket - the new one was buried somewhere in the trunk.
3 hours unnerving poor Jim, 3 hours trying to bear the pain in my leg and not to yell at the dweeb who blew the horn all the time.

Somewhere down the road I thought my brain would just explode if I'd not distract myself. All over sudden I was as meek as a lamb and was determined to have fun now. People around were odd enough for my purpose and I began to study them.
"Greg?", a worried voice from the drivers seat asked.
I turned my head. "Jim?"
"A...are you okay?"
I blinked. "Yes...Why?"
"You stopped complaining and glaring all over sudden...I thought...well...you might suffer from a migraine now or something."
I smiled at him and leaned back in my seat. "I just decided this is not worth complaining. You know that saying? God grant me the serenity to accept things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference?"
Jim nodded and sighed at the sight of the solid line of cars. "Of course..."
"Well...", I shrugged, "this is a thing I cannot change, right?"
With a side glance he nodded again. "Spooky....", he mumbled. "A calm House in a traffic jam..."

While studying the fellow traffic jammers around us I scribbled down this list.

How to survive a traffic jam
Recommended by all the loonies around

Blow the horn whenever you get the chance to

Yell at everyone around you and flip them the bird

Listen to an old Manowar CD as loud as your car speakers allow

Bite the steering wheel

Curse incessantly

Glare at everyone who looks into your car as if they were responsible for the traffic jam

Search for old candy underneath your seat and toss it at the workers

Hit the steering wheel, kick the door and freak out totally

Scold your passenger

How to keep up that brilliant mood after your favorite traffic jam

In defiance drive the complete rest of your journey in the bottom gear

Listen to a CD with construction site noise

Keep bad-mouthing your passenger

Don't stop glaring and flipping the bird

Deposit candy underneath your seats for the next road works you'll pass by

Well...at least I was quite relaxed when we escaped the solid line of cars.

The remains of the day

The remains of Monday, to be more precise.

So, there I was - sitting in my hotel room, gnawing my lower lip and turning the Vicodin bottle upside down over and over again. The always satisfying click of the pills did not reach my ears and I gazed into space.
I felt like grasping at nothing, my world seemed to crumble into pieces.

Could that be true?
Was it a strange nightmare?
Did I read what I read?

The thoughts were racing and everytime I tried to figure out what could have happened I felt like beating my head against a stone wall.
It had been perfect.
Life had been wonderful and at long last I had been really, truly happy.
Why the heck couldn't that last?
Was he a notorious cheater?
Did he betray me?
If not in deeds at least in words?
Did his love for me just vanish?
What had I done or not done to cause this?

That conversation came to my mind again and I hit my forehead with my fist and squeezed my eyes shut.
No, no, no, noooooo I thought.
It was like sitting on a merry-go-round, just that you don't move but watch the world circling around you. I dryswallowed my far-too-manyeth Vicodin and tried to form coherent thoughts.
That feeling was horrible. Lost. Cold inside. Distraught. Heavy-hearted. Desolate. Lonely.

Sitting here was of no use. I had already tried to find some sleep - completely in vain of course. Popping one pill after the other did not help either and I was far from being comfortably numb. My arms felt like floating and my head was light, that was it.
Maybe some fresh air would help me to settle my thoughts and find out what to do next.

I slipped into my jacket, grabbed iPod and key and limped out of the room. The music I listened to was Schindler's List, not really helpful but mirroring my mood.
My steps led me to the campus where black and empty windows stared at me like hollow ghostly eyes and the wind rustled in the trees. I kicked some stones out of my way and looked up into the sky. Lifting up my arms I cried a voiceless Why? to the stars without even feeling the slightest bit pathetic. The moon stared back at me, a thin crescent waiting to grow to full moon in some days. My vision blurred a bit and became clear again. That was when I confessed to myself that I was high.
I walked on, listened to the music and the beat of my own heart, took deep breaths of the night air and closed my eyes in the desperate attempt to collect my thoughts.
All in vain.
Jim was everything I could think of and when I listened to Stolen memories I could not bear the music any longer, switched off the iPod and let the earphones dangle from my leather jacket.

I wondered if that was how all his wives felt when they found out he betrayed them. Clenching my fist I felt another feeling rise.
Anger.
Who did he think I was?
Another Susan?
Another Bonnie?
Another Julie?
His loving but oh so blind little wife???
No way!
He would not get away with that. I would not just close my eyes, come back to him and pretend that nothing ever happened.
"Oh no, Dr. Wilson, you won't emerge unscathed!", I thought and gnashed my teeth.
I could not stand the thought of being kissed by lips that kissed someone else a few hours ago. Touched by hands that touched someone else a few hours ago. Listening to words whispered into my ear he sighed to someone else a few hours ago.
Who knew it was just a conversation?
Maybe the conversation was just part of something else.
"I really thought you'd love me till the end of time", I whispered to myself and kicked a wall.
"OUCH, fuck!", I immediately exclaimed 'cause I hurt my foot really bad - kicked too hard, I suppose. So some owls, moths and bats could see me limping on both sides now making my way across the campus.

Deep in thoughts I came to a decision. I would leave him.
This would kill me, I would slowly die inside and become an even bigger pain in the ass than I already was - for sure. But I did not want to play the dumb husband who closes his eyes in front of being betrayed pretending life was fine. I was not a victim. I would walk out of this proud keeping my head held high.
Nodding slowly to convince myself that this decision was the right one I walked on.
But how could you live without him? Now that you know how life with him can be? Now that you know how being loved by him turns every grey shadow into sparkling sunlight?
I shook my head in order to dissipate these thoughts.
Let's face it, Greg. You love him way too much. You cannot live without him, the nagging little voice in my head told me.
"If I try I can", I gnarled to myself grinding my teeth.
Taking another deep breath I started to slowly hobble along the campus again.

When I reached the Fountain of Freedom I saw a lonely figure sitting and brooding there. This man looked more than familiar and I stopped breathing for a while. "Jim?", I finally whispered.
My heart made a jump and every part of me wanted to rush into his arms, but I held myself back.
The man stumbled to his feed and whispered back to me. "Greg?"
I stepped back but he approached me and just stopped a few steps away from me.
"Hi", he said in a broken voice and looked at me unsure and questioning.
"Hi", I managed to reply and thumped my cane to the ground.
“Where have you been?", Jim asked. "I called nearly every hotel in town and I was worried like hell!”
Oh, he was worried!
“Worried? Huh?”, I answered quite coldly and raised an eyebrow.
Jim swallowed and continued in a lower voice. “Greg … I … GOD! I mean I know that you got that email … but …”
The anger was rising in me again. “BUT? Is there a but?! I don’t think you should dare continuing!", I barked and turned away.

Jim tried to hold me back and grabbed my arm. I felt his grip, swung around and the next thing I noticed was my fist on his chin with a satisfying thud. Jim stumbled backwards and found himself sitting on the ground.
I regretted my rash action the very moment I saw him licking the blood from his bruised lips but my anger and hurt were stronger.
"I am NOT Susan, Bonnie or Julie! You think you can go scot-free? You thought wrong! I will not allow you cheating on me. Do you get that NOW?”, I barked and glared at him.
He looked stunned and just stared at me for a few seconds, then shook his head.
"Gregory....", he began.
"I don’t want to hear any lame excuses now!”,I snapped and turned around again.
“You will not leave me like that”, Jim yelled and got to his feet.
I turned my head and asked him cold and silently “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just do that?”
Jim sighed deeply and combed his fingers through his hair.
"Because you are all that I have!”
Those word touched me deep down inside and I slowly turned around.
I nailed him to the spot here he stood with my eyes.
"Repeat that!", I said and kept his glance.
“You are all that I have, Gregory!” he said … paused and continued, “See, I did not betray you and this is just the truth. Look me in the eyes and try to see the truth in there. You know me by heart! You would just see if I would lie to you!”

I turned around completely and approached him.
"Go ahead! And be sure, I'll see if you lie!", I said and looked straight into his eyes.
James nodded and glanced back at me.
"It might sound a bit weird, but my computer account was broken into and some hacker just misused all the information on it, including my messenger and my e-mail accounts."
I snorted and furrowed my brow, but James hurried to continue before I was able to interrupt him.
"When that computer guy told me that this faked conversation was sent to you ... I raced home as fast as I could, but you were already gone", he then finished his report.
I sighed and looked at him. "For sure I was gone, I just packed a few things, took my bike and got me a hotel room."
James swallowed and seemed to take my arm but hesitated. "Will...will you come home again?", he then asked.
Could I believe him? I had watched him carefully and could not detect any sign of a lie in his eyes.
"Jim...I...", I began but was interrupted.
"You still don't believe me, right?", he whispered and sunk down to the stairs again.
He stared at the pavement and did not seem to notice that I approached him.
I slightly touched his shoulder with my fingertips.
He looked up and after a while of just exchanging glances I murmured "Stand up..."
Jim arose and looked very lost and unsure.
I could not help but smile at him - I do love him so much.
"I believe you, Jim", I sighed and caressed his cheek. "I should have asked you immediately, but I was so hurt and ..."

Again he interrupted me - this time with a soft and tender kiss.
We clung to each other, deepened the kiss and both were breathing heavily after a short while. I was longing for him with every fibre of my body, all my heart and soul. Jim's hands wandered over my body and left traces of liquid fire everywhere they touched me.
"Hotel is close...", I managed to moan inbetween kisses and slipped my hand into Jim's pants without thinking. His loud moan was reply enough, but he panted a hoarse "Let's go then" nevertheless.

We made our way to the hotel as quickly as possible and I locked the door of my room behind us. A silent clonk made me look at the floor where a small whisky bottle was rolling to and fro. It obviously fell out of his jacket when he placed it on the chair.
I already wondered if you took a bath in some malt barrel. How much glasses did you have?" I asked him and looked at him questioningly.
"Enough!", Jim replied with a wink.
"I see that in your eyes. Heck, man you are drunk!"
"Tipsy!" he replied and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.
I felt my stomach twitch and approached him.
"Your pupils are dilated as well, Greg ..." Jim said when I came closer to brush the shirt over his shoulders.
"No wonder" I murmured into his ear while kissing along his neck.
"How much?" he moaned when I unbuckled his belt and got rid of his trousers."Too much for your taste ...", I answered and began to lightly touch his back. Then I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.
"But not enough to be unable to do what I will do now", I moaned then and delved my teeth into his neck.

We sank to the bed with a moan and soon were undressed without even really noticing it. Entangled in each other we kissed as if we could never kiss again and touched feverishly. Panting, moaning, rustling sheets, skin on skin and kisses were the only sounds that could be heard for the next hours - apart from the things we whispered to each other.

Time flies sometimes and it was in the early morning hours when I lazily stretched and turned on my belly looking into Jim's eyes.
I smiled at him and tenderly caressed his chest. "So ... I am all that you have?"
"Mhmmmmm", Jim replied and kept my glance.
"You are all that I have ... and all that I want!", he then said clearly.
I felt my heart slopping over with joy and love and felt a broad smile lighting up my face.
I bent over him, softly pushed him into the linen and whispered "And you are all that I want now" into his ear before I started to kiss him anew.

Along the line of fate

Just a poem...
Written quite a while ago.
Long, long ago.

Your name is written in my hand
And along the line of fate
You walk on
With steady steps
Making your way home
Right into my heart
And reaching my soul.

© G. House

Dumbfounded

I am lost for words.
I really don't know what to think or feel now.
I'm numb, I suppose.
Too numb to be sad or even angry.

It was around 4 in the afternoon when a strange e-mail was misled to me. I did not notice that it was addressed to James and read it.
Well....it contained a very interesting conversation between James and some other guy via some sort of messenger.
All over sudden my heart was in my mouth and I stared at the screen.
This could not be true.
This can't be true!
But there it was. I read it again and felt more than sick.

I told Cuddy I was ill - she did not doubt me for a second. I think I looked really crappy. Then I took a cab home, packed a few things and now I'm in some hotel room.

I won't stand for that!
No way - I'm no Susan, Bonnie or Julie.
That's all I know for now.
And that I feel sick and ... hmmm ... I don't know how to describe it.
Lost?
Yes, maybe lost.
I think I'll have a single malt now and then try to find some sleep.

Money, money, money...

Well...
Silly, huh?
Click for full view (I suppose).

Pissy!

Mood: contented
Drinking: coffee
Listening to: Jeepers Creepers - Frank Sinatra

Oh, I was pissed off by those photos James showed on his blog.
Really pissed off.
But I already told you that.

James for one did not intend to be mean. Well, not really mean. He was a bit surprised by the way I reacted and now it started to be fun.
The first hour or so I was really still pissed off.
But when he came to my office to apologize and I found all his comments I began to smirk.
"Let's see how far he will go", I thought and already anticipated a wonderful dinner, roses, music, single malt and other fine things.

"Greg...I'm sorry. I did not know that you would mope...."
I glared at him and did not answer.
He stood there and looked like a drowned rat. "Greg..."
I turned to the file on my desk again and flipped through it.
"Greg...please..."
With an annoyed sigh I scribbled some notes down.
The next thing I heard was my door silently closing.
Now I leaned back in my chair and grinned broadly. One part of me felt bad though 'cause Jim was obviously worried and sorry. But the greater part liked to tease him.

I snuck out early and took a cab home. Once arrived at our appartment I immediately percolated some coffee, turned on the TV, flung myself to the couch and thought about the evening. He would try to make amends, for sure. But what would he do?
Several pleasant pictures crossed my inner eye - I sipped my coffee and then decided to have a short nap.
To my surprise now Jim was late. He came home around 8 pm and I was already starving. It was my own fault, I know. I expected him to cook something really nice and thus was waiting for him.
I heard him rummaging in the hallway and tried to look totally oblivious of his arrival. He entered the sitting room with a bunch of red roses - my heart made a small jump, but I fixed my glance at the TV screen and did not say anything at all.
"Hey, darling...", he began and approached me.
I shot him a quick and annoyed glance just to turn away again.
"Hun, I..."
Silence.
A sigh later he went into the kitchen and watered the roses.
In the meantime I arose and limped into the bedroom. "There's no dinner for you", I gnarled and looked at him over my shoulder.
He looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I...I....I already had dinner."
Heck, no! I was really starving!
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really..."
He blushed slightly. "Yes...um...you were gone and...and...a patient invited me to that restaurant..."
"A patient!" Now I was annoyed again. And there was that famliar sting in my stomach I hated so much. Yes. I am jealous as hell.
"Yes...um...she wanted to thank me..."
"Nice", I nodded and slammed the door.
It immediately opened again and James peeked in. "Greg, there was nothing..."
"Out of here", I said very silently and grabbed my book.
"But I..."
"OUT!"
James stared at me, gulped and withdrew his head to close the door.

I sighed and my thoughts went astray. The sting in my stomach was most unenjoyable and I gnawed my lower lip.
"Come on...he was just invited for dinner. Nothing more...don't be silly", I told myself.
Meanwhile I heard Jim rummaging in the sitting room. He obviously took a bottle of whisky out of the drawer and poured himself a glass.
That pouring sound could be heard again and again.
"Someone will suffer from a terrible hangover tomorrow", I thought and tried to concentrate on my book.
"Greg? Babes?", I heard him ask at the door a few minutes later.
"Leave me alone", I grunted.
The door opened a bit again.
"Greg...bunnybum...I'm sorry....I did not mean to piss you off..."
I decided not to answer and pretended to be absorbed in the pages of my book - Sarum by Edward Rutherford.
He dared to enter the room with three little steps.
"Hunny? I...I...just thought those pictures were funny...and...and...you really look cute on them..."
With a snort I nodded to the door.
Jim sighed and left our bedroom silently closing the door again.

Some seconds later I heard him yell from the living room.
"JERK!"
"Oh...nice", I thought and yelled back. "ASSHOLE!"
Silence.
"Dammit! I did not mean you, Greg!"
"Yeah, for suuuuuure!"
This was so kindergarten, I know. And when I thought of him laying on the couch by candlelight it was really hard for me to resist. On the one hand I just wanted to join him, cuddle, kiss and have a good time. On the other hand I had fun causing him a sore conscience.
I know that was mean.
Sometimes I can't help it.
And I was still expecting something very pleasant as an excuse.
Jim fell silent again and I decided to place the book on my nightstand, curl up in bed and have a nap.

Half an hour later Jim tiptoed into the bedroom.
I sat up. "What are you doing here?"
"Um..." I saw him blush even in the darkness. "Going to bed?"
"No way", I gnarled and shook my head. I threw his yammies at him and told him to sleep on the couch.
"But...but...Greg..."
"Out!"
"Gregory!" He was dumbfounded.
I just flashed at him and he slowly stepped backwards out of the room.
"I overdid", I thought and immediately regretted it. But I could not give in now.
"Let's see how far he will go", I thought again. "Maybe some takeout food, a day off, a massage..."

Well, he didn't do anything at all. And I felt all guilty because I could sense he was feeling horrible. So I turned in bed and could not sleep. But join him in the living room and tell him it was a bad joke? No way. He'd be hopping mad.
I sighed and turned and sighed and turned.

It was around 3 in the morning when I heard the door open again.
I secretly opened one eye and saw James, one hand holding a candle, the other a rose. He placed the candle on his nightstand and then knelt at my side of the bed.
"Greg...", he whispered.
I pretended to awake. "Mmmmh?"
He put the rose on my pillow and softly kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry", he whispered again and I felt awfully weak all over sudden. So I just looked into his eyes and was quite unable to move.
His lips kissed down my cheek and found mine. "Greg...", he moaned silently and I could do nothing else than return his kiss and wrap my arms around him.
It appeared to me as if we had been seperated for years and I realized just how much I missed him those few hours. So I clung to him like drowning and listened to all the sweet names he gave me, enjoyed his touches and returned them gladly.
We got undressed almost by magic 'cause I could not remember unbuttoning his shirt or anything.
"You're so beautiful...", he said in a hoarse voice and looked into my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Greg..."
I gulped. "I'm good...I'm not angry..."
Those eyes drew me closer and I had a feeling like melting into his arms. Now this was surely a pleasant excuse...
He covered my face with kisses, kissed along my jaw, my neck and suddenly the two of us were one. I gasped, clung to his sides and the night had just begun.

Well...and I ask you: Who could resist him?

Pissed off!

I am really pissed!
Jim showed some horrible photos of me on his blog although I asked him please not to do that.
I'm not vain - believe me.
But those photographs are more than embarassing.

Well...I have some to show you, too.
Nothing horrible (I hope), just me in one of my favorite leather jackets:



This is the newest one - taken yesterday:



Well...and Jim and me:

Relaxing and strange disease

Oh Lord!
Did you already read it?
Jim wrote about it.
Tenacious M now knows I am married to Jim.
He was really pale when he left the lobby and slightly shuffling then.

To my surprise I still get my early morning Starbucks coffee - without heartshaped chocolates though. To my utmost satisfaction he kept away from me since and I only see him from far when he still haunts the hallways I usually use.
That was a ray of sunlight again today when I came back from clinic duty highly annoyed.

Can you believe that patients really gather their feces from their toilets to bring them here and show them to me? And that was just one incident of today's highlights. I really had to distract myself a bit when I came back - otherwise I feared I'd run amok.
Then there was that child who jarred at my nerves and kicked my cane away when I was about to leave the exam room. These are the days I hate clinic duty even more than usual and have to make everyone else's day rotten to feel better.
I sometimes have some really strange relaxing techniques and so it was no wonder that Jim found me sitting in my chair reading a magazine while a Tourette patient was sitting in my visitors chair cussing, yelling and uttering strange noises.
"Um...", Jim raised an eyebrow and pointed surreptitiously at the man.
I looked up at him. "Hum?"
"Is...is that your patient?"
"No, I borrowed him from 6th floor", I answered lazily and turned a page.
Jim looked blank. "You..." He raised his shoulders. "Why?"
I sucked my lollipop and looked at the article. "It's quite soothing."
"Soothing", Jim repeated with a dull voice.
"Heck fuck you asswipe!", the patient yelled and I sighed and leaned back with an uttermost peaceful expression upon my face closing my eyes.
James cleared his throat and I heard him approach the patient. "You can now go back to your floor, Mr..."
"Turlington", I finished his sentence.
"Mr....Turlington..."
Scuffing sounds, the door opened and closed again and then the warmth near me showed that Jim sat down on my desk right in front of me.
"Greg...sometimes I really can't believe what must be going on in your mind..."
I opened one eye and looked at him. "I just wanted to relax a bit. Clinic duty was more than rotten."
"Relaxing by misusing a Tourette patient? That's highly unethical."
With a sigh I opened my other eye, too and frowned. "Jim, he just sat here."
"...to amuse you."
"No...just to be there and distract me."
"You can't borrow patients to distract you, Gregory!"
I sighed. "Oh, it's Gregory now, hm? I apologize for my rudeness, James Evan."
Jim crossed his arms and looked down at me. "Greg...just think a bit. His family could sue you."
"I did not do him any harm..."
"Oh, c'mon...you know I'm right, you're just too stubborn to give in."
I raised my hands. "Okay. I am sorry. really. I'll never borrow Mr. Turlington again."
"Greg, you won't 'borrow' any patient!"
"I promise."
He could not conceal his smile though, shook his head, arose and locked my door silently.
"Will you tell me what you are up to?", I asked him with a quirk of my eyebrow.
He closed the blinds, turned to me again and approached me with a smile.
"I won't tell you, hun. I'll show you", he whispered and sat down on my lap.
Before I even noticed he unbuttoned my shirt we both were undressed and molten together. I uttered a squeaky moan and looked into Jim's smiling eyes.
"There are so much better ways to relax, don't you think?", he panted and our journey to heaven began.

So I was really relaxed and contented in the afternoon when we Cuddy handed me a strange but fairly easy case. The poor guy did not want to talk to Cuddy though and asked for a male doctor. So it was my turn to show up in exam room 9.
There he sat, blushing crimson and kneading his fingers.
I just sat down opposite to him and leaned my chin on my cane.
Finally he began to speak.
"It points to the side...."
I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly?"
He was obviously wishing to be somewhere else. "My...my...."
"You know what", he then whispered and pointed at his crotch.
"Oh! Your penis!"
"...."
I leaned forward. "Always?"
"No...just...just..."
"Just when erect?"
"God, yes!"

Peyronie's disease ...the poor guy is treated now.

I'm not Tinkerbell!!!

James was mean!
We saw a young woman with a chihuahua the other day and he laughed and showed me the little rat.
"Look! It has the shadow of a beard! Guess of whom it reminds me!"
I just grunted and chose not to answer.
And now this.
After the use of Paint Shop Pro:

That dog definitely needs a neck.
And no, I do not think this is funny!

Hello to Newark!

Hey, dear reader from New Jersey!
Here's a cup of coffee for you.
Enjoy.

Relax. It's just coffee!
No Vicodin added.
I keep them to myself.

Some days without Jim, a surprise and memories rushing back to me

Mood: puzzled but happy and all fluffy
Weather: sunny and pleasant
Drinking: coffee
Listening to: Direct to helmet - The Spinto Band

I am awfully happy!
I am so happy I am already scaring my fellow humans again who are not used to the sight of a grinning, smiling and humming House.
'Why the dickens?' you might ask now.
Of course because Jim is back!
He was attending an oncologists congress at Chigago and was away for 3 whole days!
Well....3 days I had to work, but the evenings without him were rather long.

Dr. F. by the way is still waylaying me at my usual hauntings which is utterly annoying. He always pretends we meet by accident though. What does he think? That I'm a bit dim? I am positively not!

Thursday afternoon I snuck out for a nap at maternity lounge. Cuddy's radar failed and I stretched out on the couch with a contented sigh when Dr. F. came in.
"Ciao, Dr. House!", he smiled down at me.
Heck, no!, I thought and gave him a bored look. "What the hell are you doing here?", I asked him and did not even try to hide my annoyance.
He shifted uncomfortably and thought of something to say now.
"Um...I..."
I sighed impatiently and waved him off. "You should go and visit Foreman. Maybe he knows what to do about your sudden aphasia."
Dr. F. chuckled and shrugged. "No, I'm fine. I just saw you here and thought...why not ask you...if...if..."
I snorted. "You waste my time!"
Miserable Marco took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. "I'm sorry. I am spoiling your break."
"There's a light at the end of the tunnel", I smirked and folded my hands beneath my head.
Well, I thought he'd be leaving now, but wide off the mark.
He was kneading his fingers and still looked down at me whilst I was beginning to feel uncomfortable on that couch being stared at.
Another deep breath and two sighs later he finally asked me what he wanted to get off his chest. "I...wondered if you would like to...have a few drinks tonight...Um....with me. At the new bar downtown...um...they say it's quite good..."
"Busy tonight", I snapped what of course was a lie. The only thing I'd be busy with was missing Jim for sure and popping some pills.
His disappointment was almost palpable. "Oh...what a pity..."
I closed my eyes and thought the fairly onesided conversation came to an end now. Alas, but no.
Suddenly I felt his hand on my shoulder and he was leaning over me. My first thought was slamming my fist into his face, but he just wanted to ask another question.
"So...what about tomorrow?"
"Busy as well..."
"And Saturday?"
Get lost!!!!!
"Out with Dr. Wilson."
"Oh..." A sigh could be heard. "Dr.Wilson...I see..."
Tick-Tick-Tick went the clock on the wall.
"Sunday?"
Oh bugger! Stop pestering me!
"Probably the same."
He looked at me a bit surprised but found his speech again soon. "Well...lunch then. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up at your office at noon."
With these words he spun around and left maternity lounge.
"Fuck!", I cursed under my breath and every thought of having a nap was gone. Tenacious Marco obviously was fairly unaware of the fact he was hitting on a married man. In a crappy mood I ransacked maternity lounge's fridge and cussed to myself.

Thursday evening when I came home I found a small envelope at the coffee table. It was yellow and Jim scribbled a smiling sun onto it.
'Huh?', I thought and picked it up from the table for closer examination. Underneath the sun I read the line For my ray of sunshine and all over sudden felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
With a broad and - I suppose - slightly dorky smile I opened the envelope. It contained a booking confirmation for a fishing hut at Lake Michigan - for the next weekend.
I scratched my chin and sat down on the couch staring at the confirmation. That hut rang a bell somewhere in the back of my head. Yes. We've been there before. Somewhen in the 90ies, as far as I remember.
We spent a long and lazy weekened there fishing, talking, drinking and enjoying the comfort that 'hut' offered which included a sauna.
And yes, I remember James stammering around quite often and behaving a bit odd. Well...now I know why, hm?
The memories of the evenings are quite blurred due to the heavy consumption of alcoholic beverages ...but...maybe...well...considering it now...something might have happened there.

I remember sitting in the sauna, we both had towels wrapped around our hips and talked about this and that. I can't remember if he was married to Susan or Bonnie at that time but he already told me that his marriage sucked.
That was no surprise.
All of his marriages sucked sooner or later...Most of them sooner than later though. And all of his wives seemed to harbour a great dislike for me.
Which was no big surprise for me either though.
Well...we kept talking, enjoyed the warmth and somewhere down the road Jim fell silent and just looked at me.
I stopped in the middle of my sentence and looked back at him. "Fwhat?"
He gulped and folded his hands in his lap. "N...nothing..."
I raised an eyebrow. "Did you see a ghost?"
Jim just shook his head and kept glancing at me.
My stomach twitched and I began to feel a bit uneasy and unsure. The feeling that glance aroused in me was something I wanted to keep deep down inside of me.
"So?", I asked.
"I...", he began.
Some minutes passed and I took a sip of my now luke warm Guinness. (Yes, I know you shouldn't do that!) "You?"
My head began to spin a bit and the last thing I remember was Jim leaning over me.
I can only imagine what happened there - maybe James will be able to tell us more.
It must have been rather pleasant, I suppose. There must be a reason he booked that hut again.

He refused to tell me anything about it on the phone though and told me to wait and be patient. I tried to. And I tried to get some sleep in that now much too big and lonely bed.

Friday morning I was in a lousy mood. Partially because I had clinic duty, partially because I knew Friday meant lunch with Dr. F.
So I limped into the lobby and everyone who was out of my way soon enough not to get acquainted with my cane was lucky.
The highlight of the day was a little boy with a sugar cane in his nose. I got it out and it was smeared with snot when I handed it back to him.
The boy beamed at me and began to suck it right away.
Disgusting.
But consequent.

Later I had the splendid idea just to be out of office at noon. But - alas - Dr. F. found me studying some X-rays.
"Here we go, Dr. House!", he beamed and patted my back.
I shot him a did-I-allow-you-to-touch-me?-glance, but he dragged me out of the room and whistled on our way out of PPTH. When we met Foreman, he just grinned and winked at me. Nice.
Well, he took me to that Italian restaurant around the corner and unpleasant memories of lunch with Allenby came back to my mind and made me even grumpier than usual. Which, of course, did no harm to Dr. F.'s horribly good mood. I could almost read his thoughts.
'Aaaaw...he's shy!'
Far from it! I was as impolite as possible which fueled his charms even more. So I was stumped and decided just to enjoy my - expensive! - meal.
When we came back to my office he even said goodbye with a hug (!) which left me fairly upset and disgusted.
"Stop it immediately!", I gnarled.
That only earned me a radiating smile.
"Grazie for the wonderful lunch break, Dr. House."
"Wonderful? Are you a masochist?", I shot back.
His smile broadened. "I really enjoy your company."
"Dork!", I grunted and closed the door behind me.

Did you know...?

Well, that's an interesting, but completely useless medical fact:

Undertakers report that human bodies do not deteriorate as quickly as they used to. The reason, they believe, is that the modern diet contains so many preservatives that these chemicals tend to prevent the body from decomposition too rapidly after death.

In the middle ages we all would have been saints! Uncorruptibility, here we come!

Here's another one for you:

Several well documented instances have been reported of extremely obese people flushing aircraft toilets whilst still sitting on them. The vacuum action of these toilets sucked the rectum inside out.

Answering your question

Yes, I will still write about Sunday with the family.
And the parts of Saturday I do remember.
But let me answer your question first.

One of the most common keyword phrases leading people here is Why does Dr. House limp?.
Well...I wonder why you do not just ask me, colleagues and fellow doctors!
Do you really think google could answer that?
Nosy dorks.

I will tell you the reason.
I had an infarction in my right leg, which caused my quadriceps muscles to become necrotic.
Well, I had the dead muscle bypassed in order to restore circulation to the remainder of my leg, accepting the possibility that the release of the chemicals that resulted from the blockage would cause organ failure or cardiac arrest.
Of course I was willing to endure excruciating chronic pain as a trade-off for retaining the use of my leg.
Unfortunately my former girlfriend was my medical proxy...so when I was put into a chemically-induced coma to sleep through the worst of my pain, she decided to exercise her right and chose a safer surgical middle-ground between amputation and a bypass involving removing just the dead muscle.
This resulted in a partial loss of the use of my leg and left me with a lesser, but still serious, level of pain.
For the rest of my life, fellow doctors, so this might answer the other question of yours. That's why I take Vicodin frequently.
Surprise, surprise...

Saturday with butthead and company

I am so glad this is over.
I never look forward to Mondays, but this time Monday meant family-is-leaving-day.
Don't get me wrong - I do not hate them or something, of course not. (Well...but always had some problems with my father.)
But it's quite exhausting having your parents, mother- and stepfather-in-law, brother- and sister-in-law and your nephew around for a whole weekend.
Some of you might say 'Welcome to my world' now, but I am just not used to it.

A white lie spared us the Friday evening with our family. We told them we had to work late and spent a wonderful and cuddly evening at home watching scary movies and ordering pizza.
Saturday started early though. As Jim told you he spoilt part of our Friday by telling me we would go shopping with his mother. I refused to talk to him for about an hour and afterwards complained quite a while until he made up for it.

9 in the morning it was and the hellos were quite wearing. I managed to stay at the house with my father, Nathan, butthead and Sean as you could already read at Jim's blog.
I bet he had 'fun' going to the mall with a bunch of women. He did not want to talk about it... The most embarassing incident for him maybe was that his mother bought him a tie there. It looks like a very belated Bar Mitzvah present and is just hideous! Purple with a more than ugly pattern - a strange kid of paisley.
He only showed me in the evening with an embarassed little grin on his lips.
"Nice", I said when I laid eyes on that unspeakable thing.
"Yeah...I perfectly know what you are thinking. And you're right."
"I suppose it was a surprise then. Like driving home and hearing your mother say 'Jimmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy....look what I bought for you!' and have her rubbing that thing into your face."
He just nodded and stared at the tie in his hand. "Pretty much so."
"Why didn't you show me when you came back?"
"Greg", he sighed, "I was taking care of you."
"Oh...um..yeah, I remember."

Yes. He was taking care of me. How could I forget about that considering the severe headache I still had?
I already told you I stayed at the house with the other men. After playing Mafia with Sean I could no longer avoid talking and reluctantly settled on the couch to have morning coffee with my father, Nathan and butthead.
That conversation did not last very long for me though.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and found me staring into a tiny puddle of coffee on the ground of my mug.
Nathan pointed at the coffee machine. "There's some more, Greg."
I nodded, arose and wondered what butthead was heading for. He tried to stuff some luggage away in a wardrobe and needed a ladder to reach the top.
In the meantime, I made my way into the kitchen.
Butthead took the ladder from behind the kitchen door, swung around and I could only yell HO! before he accidentally hit my head really hard with it.
I immediately passed out and the next thing I remember was lying on a bed, Jim holding my hand and placing ice on my head.

Noon and afternoon passed in a hazy blur and with a damn headache on that bed.
When I arose it was early evening and the family decided to watch Eragon.
"Buah, no!", I thought but there was no way to get out of it. Everyone was ever so happy I was on my feet again and Jim insisted I had to stay with them.
Fine. So we watched Eragon. And had several pints of Guinness which earned us one of the spare rooms in the house.
When we went to bed I remembered a quote, stood in front of Jim, leaned on the wall and raised my eyebrows with a leer.

"I am Greg. And you are my rider."
"I suppose you feel better, darling."

Visitors of the day

Yes.
No award, though.
I just like to mention them here.
It is fairly odd when you see by which means people find my blog and what they actually were looking for.
Here's the ranking for today:

1. place: "You kissed my ear you asswipe"
2. place: "can drinking beer and taking a vicodin hurt me"
3. place: "Why is Dr. House so mean?"

I would love to know who tried to ask google why I'm mean...

London, 1965

You can always trust mums when it comes to digging out embarassing photographs and such things...
The dog's name was Weetabix.
And I always refused to look at the camera.

Strange certificate, Butthead's birthday and other things

Family is a wonderful thing, right?
Especially if they live far, far away.
Canada, Baltimore, Tadshikistan...whatever.
Especially if your brother-in-law is a true butthead.

This weekend it's butthead's birthday.
And guess what?
My phone at PPTH rang and after I barked "House!" I heard a familar voice saying "Greg, it's your father."
Some ohnoes later I was told that he, my mother, Ruth, Nathan, Rachel, Sean and Butthead will spend the weekend in...rataplan...Plainsboro!
Yes! Plainsboro!
They thought it would be nice to celebrate Butthead's birthday here with us, rented a house and arrived here yesterday afternoon.

Considering the fact that Jim's family loves to celebrate with all the relatives they can get hands on I am lucky that Captain Ahab (that's what I call Jim's peglegged uncle, if you remember) won't be here.
They will visit us in a quarter of an hour.
Oh, nice!
I am so looking forward to listen to Rachel's and Butthead's marital problems...

Well...and I got a strange e-mail. The originator was a certain ItalianStallion@gmail.com or something. I deleted it right away but I really should show what this person sent to me.
I'm not sure whether to laugh or not.