Occam's Razor - House M.D.

Part 35- Into the Trenches

That weekend, late on a Saturday night, the team was hustling to figure out what was wrong with their six-month old patient. He had been attached to wires and monitors for the past few days, but the team wasn't any closer to a diagnosis. Instead, they were still ruling out several possibilities in a differential diagnosis. 

Something about Princeton-Plainsboro felt especially lonesome and dreary at night; the lights felt more fluorescent, the air stiffer, and the hope for health further out of grasp. The five team members sat around their infamous thinking table, their pens and minds scrambling to land on an answer: 

"How long do we have now?" Chase asked frantically. 

"Maybe five hours." Foreman responded. 

Chase let out a deep breath; he had handled a case before where a baby died from severe injuries and he shuddered at the possibility of it happening again. 

Foreman sort of rubbed his hands together, and told the group to remain calm. He was undeniably more empathetic than House, but Foreman really wished his boss was there to provide his expertise. 

"Maybe we should call House?" Taub suggested, finishing his third cup of coffee that evening. 

"No, we can do this ourselves. Who even knows where he is at this hour." Chase commented, frustrated. 

"Chase is right," Foreman agreed, "we can do this...but it might be worth calling House. He's full of surprises." 

"Okay..." Taub dialed House's number on the office phone. 

"I think I'm going to go check on the parents. Let me know if you guys find anything out." Madelyn told her colleagues. Foreman nodded, not stopping her. 

"House." his voice sounded mumbly through the phone speaker. 

"Hey, it's us. We need your input." Taub told him. 

House was silent for a moment, but there was some noise in the background as if he were driving, "What are the current symptoms?"

"Rapid weight loss, endocrinological deficiency, GI backup, purpura around the abdomen, and respiratory distress. We think it's hypothermia or trench foot based on the information the parents have given us and all the tests." Thirteen informed him. 

"Ok." House responded, "and the patient is a baby, correct?" 

"You've forgotten already?" Foreman asked

"Been busy." House replied nonchalantly. "I'll be there in 20 minutes. The baby is six-months old right? GI should be the one thing reliably functioning."

About an hour later, House walked into his office to find his team anxiously waiting. 

"What the hell? You were supposed to be here like 45 minutes ago." Thirteen denounced. 

"Is the baby dead?" House exaggerated. 

"No, of course not." Chase mumbled. 

"Then get the sticks out of your asses and get up to the NICU." House demanded, hanging his motorcycle jacket on the coat rack near the door. 

"We need to finalize the diagnosis first. The parents are in too much distress, I don't think they'll be able to handle any more questions without answers from us." Foreman explained to House. 

"How many tests have you run on the kid?" House asked. 

"Nearly 5." Foreman answered. 

"And how many on the parents?"

"None?" 

"Then the only one in real distress, is the patient." House argued. Only a second later, a light bulb went off and something had come to his mind. "Test the mom's bone marrow." House instructed the team.