All language subtitles for House M.D. - 8x19 - The C-Word.HDTV.2HD.en

Three, two, one.

Yeah!

Whoo!

What do you want
to do next?

Uh, swings?

Okay.
Um, crawl tube?

Nah.

Nah?

Well, I think we're running out
of options, honey.

I want to go
on the merry-go-round.

The m--
again?

But this time
all by myself.

Oh.

I don't know,
jellybean.

Daddy, I'm six.

I'm not a baby anymore.

Please?

Thank you.

You ready?
Uh-huh.

All right.

Come here.

I'll take beary.

Mm. Now you promise you're
not gonna tell mommy, right?

She'll kick my butt
if she finds out.

Pinky swear.

All right.
Go get 'em.

Remember to hold on tight.
I will.

♪ ♪

Stop the ride!

Emily!

Emily, where are you?

Em?

Emily?

Emily?

Emily, where are you,
honey?

Oh, Em.

Emily.

Honey?

Help me!

Is that our precious little
bundle of tumor?

They grow up so fast,
don't they?

How did you know
I was here?

How do you think?

Foreman.

Actually,
that would have been easier.

No, I followed you.

It didn't occur to you
that that might mean

I don't want you involved
in my cancer treatment?

I'm not here
as a doctor.

I'm here as a towering pillar
of strength.

Be a pillar
in the parking lot.

No.

How many times
have I told you

I wanted to be alone and you've
made yourself a pain in the ass?

I owe you.

My word,
not a word.

Realizing I'm most likely going
to regret this,

all right.

What--what are you doing?

My best friend
has cancer.

Cut me some slack.

Also, spring break.

I'm on vacation.

Although looking at you now, I
can tell the wet T-shirt contest

is probably gonna suck.

House taking time off

is a bad sign.

"A bad sign."

You think the apocalypse
is coming

because House wants
to be there for Wilson?

Yes.

You're new.

We got a case.

Six-year-old
with a nosebleed

and breathing problems.

She was born
with a rare mutation of A-T.

Emily has a unique variant
on both of her ATM genes.

Her disorder mimics A-T,
but not all of the symptoms.

This is Dr. Elizabeth Lawson.

She's a developmental geneticist

attached to JHU and an expert
on the girl's condition.

Elizabeth Lawson.

Emily Lawson.

I'm here as a doctor,
not a mother.

Nosebleeds and breathing
problems are common symptoms

of ataxia telangiectasia.

We could just be seeing

the natural progression--
- It's not.

A-T patients have
a life expectancy of 20 years.

Emily is only six.
It's something else.

I examined her lungs
two days ago.

They're functioning normally.

It says she fell off
a carousel.

Head trauma--

If the diagnosis was easy,

I wouldn't need you people.

I'm here because,
according to Eric,

you're the best.

We are.

Have you considered
Wegener's granulomatosis?

It's a good fit.

But she can't have X-rays.

A-T makes her hypersensitive
to ionizing radiation.

I'll get her prepped
for an MRI.

She knows more about
her daughter's genetic condition

than any of you.

She'll be an asset.

Or she won't,

Eric.

This isn't a request.

Use her.

The tumor's spread
to the surrounding tissue.

We're gonna have
to shrink it

before we remove it
surgically.

I'm more interested

in exactly how you plan
to do that, Mike.

We start conservative.

Daily radiation treatments
for three weeks.

And, if it doesn't shrink enough
after that,

we'll add the chemo--

And, if it hasn't shrunk enough
after that, I'm dead.

Look, you have
over a 75% chance

that the radiation alone
is enough.

Relax.

Caught this in time.

Catching it in time
would have been

before it invaded the tissue
around my thymus.

I want the radiation
and the chemo concurrently.

Why stress your immune system
unnecessarily?

Let's just go
with my plan, okay?

The radiation first--
I'm gonna get a second opinion.

Are you serious?

Look, I've seen you recommend
this exact treatment

dozens of times.
We're done here.

I'll look for a doctor
with some actual balls.

Hey, you need
to talk to your friend.

He's embarrassing himself.

A doctor should be able
to handle his own illness

with a little bit
more dignity.

I agree with Wilson.

My recommended treatment
is sound.

No, I meant
about the ball-less part.

Explains the office.

It was a merry-go-round.

She's a kid, Liz.
We were having fun.

You should try it sometime.

Fun?
She's six, not you.

You know
she has balance issues.

I know that she's--

This is Emily's father,
Simon.

He was with her
when the symptoms occurred.

I had her all week.
She was fine.

We could come back.

No need.
Patient's ready for transport.

Wake up,
sleepy head.

I saw it
in the gift shop.

I know
how much you like them.

Thanks.

They're gonna take you
for an MRI now.

It means
"magic really cool images."

I thought it stood for
"magnetic resonance imaging."

We've spent a lot
of time in hospitals.

B-9.

- Hit.
And I hate you.

Ugh.
I'm done.

I sunk your battleship?

No.
But I think I'm gonna puke.

Good. Now that you're
sufficiently buzzed,

what was the reason behind you
freaking out on Kondo?

Are you scared?

Are you in denial?

I know you get confused

any time someone thinks
that you're wrong,

but it's not considered
freaking out

for a patient to ask
for a second opinion.

Okay, well,
here it is.

Kondo is right.

You should be
in radiology right now.

Well done.

You've kept your word
for almost two hours.

Every day you wait,

our pal toomie
is growing larger in your chest.

If you want to live,

stop screwing around
and do something about it.

Good idea.

I think

I'll start
with spending spring break

on my own.

How you feeling
in there, Emily?

Good, I guess.

Is something wrong?

I was only pretending
to be asleep.

You think
that's dishonest?

Uh, that's--

My daughters do that too.

But they know that sometimes,
when it seems

like mommy and daddy
are fighting, it's really

only because they're worried
about you.

And does your wife
ever want a divorce?

No.
Everything's fine at home.

Hold still now.
No more talking.

What do you think
of her mother?

She called her daughter
"the patient".

If my kids were born
with an expiration date,

- I don't--
- Ow!

Ow!

Ow-ee!

Where does it hurt?

I want my daddy.
Where's my daddy?

Ow!

Ow!

We were able to restore
circulation to her hands

and feet before
any permanent damage set in.

Primary Raynaud's?

The cold inside the MRI room
could have set it off.

Stress can also precipitate
the condition.

She's shown no evidence
of cold sensitivity,

and she has no problems
with MRI machines.

There are other kinds
of stress.

She heard you and your husband
fighting.

Unfortunately, she's heard
a lot worse than that before.

It's not stress.

Could be
secondary Raynaud's.

Lupus is consistent
with Emily's symptoms.

Her lymph nodes
aren't enlarged,

and she has shown
no signs

of immune activation.

It could be
heavy metal poisoning.

From what?
The carousel?

She was only on it
for a minute.

Simon moved
into an old apartment building

three weeks ago.

I'm sure he has no idea

what the insulation's made of,

what kind of paint.

He's a good father,

but when it comes
to Emily's health--

I'm gonna get his keys

and check
for environmentals.

Lupus is a better fit.

I don't mean
to pull rank here,

but I am her mother.

I thought you said
you were here as a doctor.

And as a doctor,
I need parental consent.

See above.

While I'm gone,

please start her
on Chelation Therapy.

She's the mother.

So let's treat her
like any other mother.

I think we just hit
the environmental mother lode.

Funny she never mentioned
an entire basement

full of dangerous chemicals
and drugs.

You think she'd even let Emily
down here?

Yeah.

Apparently a lot.

You ever heard of Lex-2?

Read about it.

It's an experimental
aminoglycoside antibiotic.

Supposedly it can override
DNA errors in the ATM gene.

Doesn't mean she's giving it
to her daughter.

Anyone studying A-T
would be researching it.

How?

You see any lab rats
down here?

The only cage I see
is right there.

Go away.

I have a headache.

We don't have
to have sex.

Sometimes it's nice
just to cuddle and talk.

Me first.

You don't want
a second opinion.

You're already
on your fifth.

You got Evans at Mercy,
Shaw at County,

Foster at Johns Hopkins.

And every one of them
has given you the same advice.

You're nuts.

You don't just want chemo.

You want a dose so high,

there's a one-in-three chance
it'll kill you outright.

Question is,

why didn't you tell me?

Because you knew
I'd stop you.

Which means
you've already found someone

insane enough

or desperate enough

to give you what amounts
to a death dose of chemicals.

But who would be that stupid?

I'm thinking that the who
is you.

Where exactly
were you planning

on killing yourself?

'Cause I don't think Foreman
is gonna let you do it here.

My place.

I've been stockpiling equipment.
No.

No!
Stop.

I'm still healthy.

Why not go the extreme route now
when there's a better chance

of surviving it?

Statistically,

this treatment
has about the same chance

of killing you
as the thymoma does.

But a hell of a lot faster.

Nancy Wells,
cervical cancer,

70% survival rate.

Died November 6, 1998,

64 years old.

Bernie Jones, melanoma,

89% survival rate.

October 10, 1999.

He was 52.

John Taylor.

Thyroid.

96% survival rate.

I promised him
he'd be fine.

Eight years old.

I am not going
to die slowly

in a hospital bed
under fluorescent lighting

with people stopping by
to gawk

and lie
about how I look.

Even a small chance
of that happening

is too big a chance
for me.

You're an idiot.

And the odds say
you're gonna die.

We'll do it at my place.

The only environmental factors
we think

caused your daughter's illness
are the ones

you shot her full of.

I tested the drug.
This is what I did

for a living
for ten years.

She's your child,
not a Guinea pig.

I tested it first.

On myself.

And in six months,
I didn't document

any adverse effects.

A trial of one
is basically irrelevant.

Respiratory infections
are common with A-T.

With Emily's mutation,
they are deadly,

and they get worse
every year.

Lex-2 won't be approved for
at least the next five years.

Emily, on the other hand,

wouldn't have survived
the winter.

What was I supposed to do?

There's a reason
for FDA requirements.

A study
at Jackson Memorial--

I know
about Gaines' research.

He's publishing next month.

Was.
I just spoke to him.

His team just linked
the use of Lex-2

to renal failure
in mice and rats.

She needs an
ultrasound guided renal biopsy

to check the damage.

Hopefully
it's reversible.

♪ ♪

To stupidity.

Mm, not quite done.

To muscle aches,
spasms.

To your joints feeling
like they're being ripped out

and replaced with shards
of broken glass.

Should I be writing
any of this down?

Your stomach
fills with bile.

When you vomit,
it feels like someone's forcing

a white hot hammer
down your esophagus,

tearing your flesh.

Blood's dripping
down the back of your throat,

choking and gagging you

with the slick, coppery taste
of burnt pennies.

I am an Oncologist.
I know--

If you did,
we wouldn't be sitting here.

Day two: Your white blood cells
are gone,

opening up your system
to attack.

Your temperature skyrockets.

One second, your skin feels
like it's on fire.

The next second,
it's entombed in ice.

Every pain sensor in your body
is firing at the same time

until agony isn't even a word
or a concept--

it's your only reality.

You hallucinate.

You dream of death.

And then the race begins.

Can your body claw
its way back in time

before the hostile organisms
and parasites

claim you permanently?

Win, you live.
Lose, you die.

Now what are we doing here,
Wilson?

Kidney number one looks good.

Which means we'll probably take
the biopsy from two.

Hey,
you're doing great.

Brave as always.

Pretty cool, eh?

You want to try?

What's wrong?

My chest hurts.

It's definitely
not her kidneys.

It's okay.

Promise this'll taste
just as good coming up

as it did going down.

If things go wrong,

I just want you
to know--

If you're gonna say that you've
always been secretly gay for me,

everyone always
just kind of assumed it.

I just want you to know...

That I appreciate the risk
you're taking...

Pumping a human being
full of lethal chemicals

in your living room.

If I die,
it probably won't go over well

with your probation officer.

That's not gonna
be an issue.

I'm glad at least one of us
is confident.

Not me.

I've already identified

a couple of spots
to dump your body

if this goes south.

I've always enjoyed
Trinity Park.

It does have a nice access
to the lake.

Muscle spasms already?

No.
It's nothing really.

Good news.

Takes most people two bags

to get to that stage.

You're way ahead of schedule.

You'll think it's stupid.

That hasn't stopped you before.

I just always thought,

when I got old or sick,

I'd have a wife or kids
to look after me.

And in this scenario,

are your loving wife and kids

holding the life support cord,

or are they thumbing
through your will?

I'm in it, right?

Mm.

You have everything you need
right here.

We both do.

Painkiller.

Industrial strength.

Level: Awesome.

We're on vacation.

That is nice.

Her kidneys are fine.

I don't think
we're looking at side effects

from the Lex-2.

She's prone
to respiratory infection.

- Pneumonia?
- No persistent cough,

chills, or excess sweating.

What about a pulmonary embolism?

Fits coughing up blood,
but a clot?

From what?

Bruising from when she fell
off the carousel.

Contusion damages a deep vein,

causes a clot.

A piece breaks off,
travels to her lungs.

We need to get her
on heparin now.

Another embolism could cause
a heart attack

or a stroke.

What's wrong?
Is it Emily?

Sort of.

You can't do this.

I'm taking her to Mercy.

Everything you people have done
has just made her worse.

You don't have the right.
We have joint custody.

Where was my right
when you were treating

our daughter
like a lab rat?

She'd be dead
if I hadn't.

Stop it.

Your daughter deserves
better than this.

It's okay, sweetie.

Mommy and I
are just gonna talk.

Okay?

You want to get
some candy?

We believe Emily has a clot
in her lungs.

If you leave now,
she could die

before her new doctors
are even up to speed.

From her A-T?

From the fall
off the carousel.

Now can we just stop blaming
each other

and do the right thing here?

You're really gonna equate
the two?

No, you were giving her
two minutes of fun.

I was trying
to save her life.

What's her best friend's name?

What's the name
of her favorite teacher?

Why does she hate that
stuffed animal you gave her?

She's been having nightmares
about penguins all month.

What's her blood type?

Rh factor?
Her serum immunoglobulin levels?

I don't care.
Those are letters and numbers.

- That's not her.
- What about the variant

in her e14 ATM intergenic
promoter region?

Because that's what's killing
your daughter.

Unless I can find a way
to reactivate it.

Just make her better.

You don't look too good,
mister.

How did you get in here?

The door.

Are you, like, sick
or something?

Where's House?

Where are your parents?

Oh, I know you.
You live in the building, right?

What's your name?

You don't remember?

House.

You promised me
I'd go home again, Dr. Wilson.

You said it wasn't my fault.

It wasn't, John.

If I didn't do nothing wrong,

why did I die?

I don't know.

Look...

I shouldn't have done this.

Am I dead?

Not yet.

It just feels that way.

Are you okay?

I mean, apart from the pain,
vomiting, diarrhea, and cramps?

I worked six months
in a research lab

after med school.

You get so focused.

Once I didn't eat
for two days.

It's easy to forget
what actually matters.

I didn't.

Yeah, it sucks
I got her the wrong doll, but...

Good news.

Emily's lungs
are clear.

No clot.
And bad news.

We still don't know
what's happening to her.

Whatever it is,
there's liver involvement.

Her eyes are jaundiced.

Her liver's failing.

We found a blockage
in her hepatic vein,

which is restricting blood flow
to her liver.

Polycythemia vera?

Red blood counts are normal.

Could be some sort
of connective tissue disorder.

What if--

what if we're just seeing
the end result

of her condition?

She's unique.

One screwed-up gene
from each of us.

Let's stick with our process.

I shouldn't be here.

What are we missing?

Advanced Lyme disease.

Would have seen it
in the blood.

He said advanced.

We wouldn't pick it up
in her blood

if it's in her organs

and nervous system now.

It fits everything
but the nosebleed.

But why is it attacking now,
all at once?

What's changed?

Elizabeth has.

She stopped giving Emily
the Lex-2.

It's
an aminoglycoside antibiotic.

It's what was keeping
the Lyme in check.

We need to start her
on amoxicillin.

Mm.

You lied.

Doesn't taste better
coming back up.

Here's another one.
You look good.

What's
the white blood cell count?

It's down to 1,000,
still dropping.

I need
more morphine.

We're out.

You've been using
my personal supply

of painkillers
for the last eight hours.

You have--
you have enough for both of us?

I've got enough stashed
around here for a minyan.

Mm.

Just remember
they're a gift.

So it's rude
to keep throwing them up.

Found that out with
those candlesticks you got me.

We think it's Lyme.

I would have seen
signs of that.

Not if the Lex-2 was keeping it
in check.

We live in the city.

We don't have pets.

She's never even been
in the woods.

Yes, I have.

With daddy.

I should have told you,

but I know
how you feel about it.

I grew up hunting
with my dad.

I wanted to share it
with my daughter

at least once.

We only took pictures.

You don't need
to be mad.

Maybe we should step outside.

No.

We can't protect her
from everything.

I assume you'll need
a lumbar puncture to confirm.

You lost a contact?

Going to
the little boy's room.

They're called adult diapers
for a reason.

Use it.

I did,
and if you think

I'm gonna let you change me--

It's okay.
I'm a doctor.

Hey!

Just leave me alone.

It's pathetic.

I'm pathetic.

An oncologist
with cancer.

Of all the things
that could be killing me...

It's like the universe
is giving me

the big middle finger.

The universe doesn't care--

Why me?

I'm always telling my patients

not to torture themselves,
because there's no answer.

Sound advice.

It's cruel advice.

They were just trying
to make sense

of what was happening
to them,

and I'm there telling them
not to bother?

I should have spent my life
being more like you.

Should have been a manipulative,
self-centered,

narcissistic ass

who brought misery
to everything and everyone

in his life.

You'd still have cancer.

Yeah!

But at least I'd feel
like I deserved it.

Do you think my parents
will get back together?

I don't know.

I'm sure
they love each other, but--

They only fight
about me.

That's because they care
so much.

So maybe when I die,

they'll get back together.

Emily, what's wrong?

I can't move my arm.

Just keep your arms up for me.

What's happening to her?

She's having a stroke.

Okay, your heart rate's up,
BP's tanking.

White blood count's
at 500.

We have to go
to the hospital now.

No.
I don't have the equipment

or the meds
to handle this.

No.
Win or lose.

Win or lose.
That was the deal.

That was the deal
when there was an "or".

You can't win this.

No.

No.
I'd rather die here.

Not in an ambulance.

Not in a hospital.

Please,

you can't do that
to me.

I can't--

House...

Please.

Promise me
that you won't do that to me.

Promise me.

Okay,
I promise.

Stroke.

Blockage
in her hepatic vein,

coughing blood,

trouble breathing,

and Raynaud's.

If we hadn't
already ruled it out,

it sounds like textbook
pulmonary embolism.

What mimics a clot
but isn't a clot?

Fungal infection.

Her CSF was clean.

No bacterial
or fungal markers.

Anyone tried calling House?

Not picking up.

Or returning messages or texts.

We're on our own here,

so just give me
some theories we can use.

Hematologic malignancies.

A-T patients are more prone
to that form of cancer.

You think cancer would present

and kill her
in three days?

Not cancer.

But a tumor could act
like a clot.

An atrial myxoma.

A primary heart tumor.

The swinging motion
of the myxoma

intermittently blocked
the flow of blood

through the right atrium.

Inflow blockage stagnated
the hepatic vein,

which clotted
and caused liver failure.

Outflow blockage caused the
Raynaud's phenomenon and stroke.

Pieces of the tumor broke off

and lodged
in the lungs,

causing Emily's
breathing problems

and the coughing blood.

We'll remove the tumor
surgically,

and hopefully the biopsy reveals
it's benign.

Wow.
You--

you really look
like crap.

Been fighting a cold
lately.

Seven to ten days
for the swelling to go down.

Then we rescan
and schedule the surgery.

I seem to recall

I said some things
to you--

You talked a lot.

I stopped listening

after you confessed
your fear of dolphins.

Can we just tone down
the bromance a few notches?

My leg is killing me.

One last favor.

I'd like to actually make it
to the bathroom this time.

I thought you said
you had plenty of Vicodin.

Everybody lies.

So the way I felt,
you feel that, what,

most of the time?

It really does suck
being you, doesn't it?

At least
I don't have cancer.

The tumor was benign.

And we were able
to remove all of it.

Does this mean
I'm not sick anymore?

No, honey.

The tumor didn't cause

your genetic condition.

You're still sick.

But we never let that
stop us before, right?

So what do you want to do
when we get out of here?

Have you been
to the aquarium?

It's pretty cool.
Can we go, daddy?

You bet.

Me too?

Can she come
with us?

You know mommy never has
to ask.

I'll see you at lunch.

♪ Any way you want it ♪

♪ that's the way you need it ♪

♪ any way you want it ♪

♪ ♪

♪ she loves to laugh ♪

♪ she loves to sing ♪

♪ she does everything ♪

♪ she loves to move ♪

♪ she loves to groove ♪

♪ she loves the lovin' things ♪

♪ ooh, all night ♪

♪ all night ♪

♪ oh, every night ♪

♪ ♪

♪ so hold tight ♪

♪ hold tight ♪

♪ oh, baby, hold tight ♪

♪ oh, she said ♪

♪ any way you want it ♪

♪ She said any way you want it ♪

♪ that's the way you need it ♪

♪ any way you want it ♪