John Henry Giles, un célèbre trompettiste de jazz, est hospitalisé pour une pneumonie. Cette affection peut lui être fatale, le musicien étant affaibli par la maladie de Charcot, une maladie dégénérative. Il demande à ne pas être réanimé en cas de problème. Mais le docteur House, qui est un admirateur de Giles, émet des doutes sur le diagnostic. Lorsque le musicien s'enfonce, House passe outre sa volonté et le réanime. Son intervention lui vaut d'être traîné en justice par les proches de Giles. Pendant le procès, l'état du patient s'améliore inexplicablement.
[A recording studio. A guy is doing sound board tests, another is practicing drum riffs. Another is playing a few notes on the guitar. Brandy is seated at the piano.]
Brandy: This is a really nice room!
Tommy: Yeah, it sounds thick. Too bad he’s not coming.
Brandy: Look, I talked to him myself. He’ll be here.
Tommy: Right.
Brandy: You’re the one who said the song could use a horn part, so I got the best. John Henry!
Tommy: You think I’m stupid?
Brandy: Of course I do, but that’s not the point. [She starts to play the piano.] He’ll be here, okay? [Guitar Guy nods doubtfully.]
[Cut to a car. John Henry and Cora are seated in the back.]
John: [to driver] Take a left up ahead.
Cora: South Street? I cancelled this gig. You said you didn’t want to do any sessions for a while.
John: For a while. I called her; I un-cancelled it.
Cora: But you up to it?
John: Let’s find out.
[Cut to the studio.]
Tommy: [playing on his guitar and singing] You lied to me, John Henry’s never gonna show up!
Brandy: Will you stop?
Tommy: [stops playing] It’s been, like, two hours.
Brandy: And we will keep waiting. I mean, you’ve heard this guy play and you know what he does, so can you just shut up, Tommy? [The door opens. Cora, John Henry and the driver enters. We see that John is in a wheelchair.]
Brandy: Oh, my God!
John: Am I late? [Brandy laughs.]
[Cut to the recording session. The opening where John comes in is played for him.]
Brandy: You need to hear it again?
John: Nope, I get it. Let’s try one. See what we get. Let’s do it. [Brandy starts up the music again. John starts to play the trumpet on his cue. After a few beats he starts to look uncomfortable, and then starts coughing. He drops his trumpet, and Cora rushes to him.]
Cora: John! You okay? You okay? [She loosens his tie.]
John: I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. [coughing]
Cora: Call an ambulance! Now! [Someone in the recording booth does so, as John stops moving.]
[Cut to House entering Cuddy’s office.]
House: I want in.
Cuddy: John Henry Giles, you a fan of his music?
House: He’s a musician? That paralysis thing, guy can’t walk for two years and
nobody knows why, that seems mildly interesting.
Cuddy: Forget his paralysis.
House: Tell that to the rest of his bowling team.
Cuddy: As far as this hospital is concerned, this is a simple case of low-bar pneumonia. Boring.
House: But that “not walking” thing, that could turn into something serious!
Cuddy: Marty Hamilton is his primary physician out in California. He’s dealing with the paralysis.
House: Know all about it. Multiple treatments, multiple surgeries. Making real progress. Fixed everything but the legs.
Cuddy: Dr. Hamilton already called and asked for your team. And by team, I don’t mean you.
House: Like I always say, there’s no “I” in “team”. There is a “me”, though, if you jumble it up. [They leave her office.]
Cuddy: Foreman did his residency with Hamilton.
House: I know. I did accidentally glance at his resume before I hired him.
Cuddy: He wants someone he can trust.
House: He must have spoken to Foreman’s parole officer.
Cuddy: Someone who will stick to the pneumonia. John Henry’s on an experimental protocol for the paralysis.
House: I respect that. I’m not going to get in his way.
Cuddy: It’s Foreman’s case. [She walks away.]
House: It’s pneumonia, he can handle it. Guy’s already paralyzed, how badly can he screw it up?
[Cut to the diagnostic offices. Cameron is looking through some medical books, as is Chase. House is fooling with his cane. Foreman is at the board.]
Foreman: So, what are his stats?
Chase: Staying in the 90s on the nasal canula.
Foreman: Coughing up much sputa?
Cameron: Almost none, he seems to be stabilized.
Foreman: Dr. House, is there anything back from Micro?
House: Not yet. You gonna fire me?
Foreman: You can make up for it by washing my car.
House: Oh, this is fun. [Chase smiles.]
Foreman: Let’s keep him on the broad-spectrum antibiotics, and since he’s displaying septic physiology, draw blood for adrenal and thyroid function.
[Cameron and Chase stand up, but House’s feet resting on the table block their path.]
House: How about the paralysis?
Foreman: We’re sticking to the pneumonia.
House: Well, you certainly are, boss. Like a wet tongue sticks to dry ice. [Chase and Cameron sit.]
Foreman: The paralysis has already been diagnosed by Dr. Hamilton. It’s ALS.
House: Lou Gehrig’s disease. It’s a lovely diagnosis. They make movies about it. No tests, no treatment. It’s a disease of exclusion –
Foreman: -- because Hamilton has excluded everything else.
House: I haven’t. [He gets up and takes the board marker from Foreman.] What else could it be?
Chase: Guillain-Barre, which would be reversible.
House: Excellent. [He starts to write, but Foreman takes the marker away from him.]
Foreman: No, the progression of the paralysis would be symmetric. This wasn’t.
Cameron: Transverse myelitis.
Foreman: Hamilton tested for it. Negative. And he was negative for masses, and AVM, and –
Chase: Antibodies could be attacking the nerve. Multifocal motoneuropathy.
House: Uncommon, but it fits. It’s also treatable. Did Hamilton try putting the guy on IVIG?
Foreman: No, because the MRI showed –
House: Well, let’s do an MRI of our own. [Chase and Cameron get up.]
Foreman: Guys? It’s my case. [They sit down again.] ALS fits. It even predicts the pneumonia. The paralysis is progressive.
House: It’s a death sentence.
Foreman: That doesn’t make it wrong.
[Cut to John’s hospital room, where a Bose stereo system is playing jazz. Foreman is taking blood samples. John turns the music off with a remote.]
John: So, you think the breathing stuff is connected to my ALS?
Foreman: It makes sense.
John: So, it’s just gonna get worse, huh?
Foreman: Well, Dr. Hamilton –
John: Great guy. Really smart doctor, but his treatment obviously isn’t working. Do you think I’m gonna die here, or you think I’m gonna get to go back home first?
Foreman: An MRI would give us a better idea –
John: An MRI? Come on. For pneumonia?
Foreman: Well, Dr. House thinks we should test for –
John: House? Yeah, I heard about him. Obsessive son-of-a-bitch?
Foreman: [chuckling] That’s him.
John: So, who do you think is right? Hamilton or House?
Foreman: They’re both excellent physicians.
John: Come on. One of ‘em says ALS, the other one says not ALS… you gotta pick one, son.
Foreman: [sighs] Everything points to ALS.
John: Then no MRI. And I want one of them papers that say I, I don’t want nothin’ done if something go bad.
Foreman: A DNR? Mr. Giles, you don’t want to rush things –
John: It’s been two years, I ain’t rushing. I wanna sign one. Now, while my arm still works.
[Cut to a shot of a record player playing one of John’s albums. As the shot backs up, we see that House is listening to it with headphones, conducting with his arm, while lying on the floor of his office, his feet propped up on a chair. Foreman walks in.]
Foreman: He signed a DNR.
House: [takes headphones off] He rhymes with dinner?%3
