All language subtitles for House.S03E03.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.x264-GalaxyTV

[Classical music plays
Prelude Suite #1,
G Major for Cello]

*

You're not gonna make this easy,
are you?

Unfortunately, as much
as I admire your spirit...

Ca ne change rien.

Subject anesthetized
with 0.5 cc's

of sodium pentobarbital.

Transfected
with human hepatic cancer cells,

underwent six rounds
of intra-abdominal treatment

with ES-22.

Vertical incision
through the rectus sheath

opens the abdominal cavity.

Incision extended into the--
[coughing]

thorax.

[gasping coughs]

Liver appears normal
in color.

No apparent scarring or...

[wheezing and coughing]

Damn it!

Cancerous tumor still present
on the right lobe.

1.12 centimeters
in diameter.

No reduction.

[gasping]

[wheezing]

[gasping]

[coughing]

[gasping]

*

[Massive Attack's Teardrop]

*

71-year-old
cancer research specialist.

Minor tremors,
localized melanoma

removed two years ago,
cataracts.

And he can't breathe.

Also, disregard
the facial lacerations.

They're creepy,
but unfortunately irrelevant.

Don't you want to know why?

You have your cane.

No, why the lacerations
are creepy.

He was about to dissect
one of his lab rats

when he collapsed.

The little vermin seized
the day, so to speak,

and went medieval
on his ass.

What?
My fly open?

So the pain's returned.

There was no pain,
he was unconscious.

I'm guessing because
he wasn't able to breathe.

We're talking about you.

Obviously.
I'm obviously not.

What is it with you people?

I don't use the cane,
you're shocked.

I use the cane...

We're just concerned.

About the wrong person.

I can breathe.

Ezra Powell, on the other hand,
is gonna die.

(Foreman)
The Ezra Powell?

Researcher? The guy who wrote
that textbook?

Not th textbook,
the textbook.

Wait. There's actually
another doctor you admire?

I admire lots
of doctors.

Of course, most of them
look a lot better

in knee socks
than Ezra Powell,

but seeing
as they can all breathe...

Oxygenation is
through the floor,

and lungs are full
of fluid.

Gotta be his heart.

Could be amyloidosis.

Or his lungs, probably
from years of inhaling

toxic chemicals
in his lab.

(Chase)
Not the lungs,
chest x-ray's clean.

(Foreman)
So's his EKG,
it's not his heart.

We're being too nice!

Outside the hospital,
he can't breathe,

inside the hospital,
he can.

Because we help.

At least, enough to screw
with our test results.

Source of the problem's either
in his heart or his lungs.

So all we gotta do
is stop helping.

Put a little pressure
on him,

and see which gives out first.

At 71, we get his heart or lungs
to give out,

we might not get 'em
to give in again.

That's why we're gonna do it
in a hospital.

Put him on
an incline treadmill,

and do a stress EKG.

So much for the admiration.

(Cameron)
Let's get you started.

I'll turn your oxygen up.

[heavy breathing]

I-I worked with Williams
on the first protocol

for this machine.

Everyone still uses it.

Except for Williams.

He died four years ago.

I'm sorry.

He was 84.

He died parasailing.

[difficulty breathing]
He was always an idiot.

You okay?

Oh, huh.

Hang in there, you know
the protocol's

only a few minutes.

[labored breathing]

(Foreman)
His heart rate's flat.

We don't get it past 130,
we're not gonna see anything.

(Chase)
And if he falls
and breaks a hip,

we're not gonna
see anything either.

Except an increase
in our malpractice insurance.

I figured House might go back
to the pills,

but if he's using his cane,
he's right back

to where he was before.

Maybe even worse.

Luckily, he'll handle it
in a stoic, grown-up fashion.

He'd never take it
out on us.

[heavy breathing]

I can't.

I've--I gotta stop.

Just a little longer.

[sighing]

Oh.

(Foreman)
Heart rate's only 90.

I'm gonna increase
the incline.

[heavy breathing]

I gotta stop.

I-I've gotta get off.

You're doing great,
just a little faster, okay?

I--I don't need
a cheerleader,

I need oxygen.

Stop.
This isn't working.

His heart rate
barely got above 90.

He can't breathe, there's
too much fluid in his lungs.

Really?

He's got fluid in his lungs?

Whatever are we gonna do?

Oh, yeah, now I remember.

Put him on a treadmill,
and run him

like one of his rats
on a wheel.

He can't run,
he can hardly walk.

That's 'cause he's not trying
hard enough.

If he was, his heart rate
would go up.

Exercising with a lungful

of your own bodily fluids
tends to hurt.

They don't call it
a stress test for nothing.

Do it again.
He's drowning!

Then pull him out of the pool,
and do it again.

I'm assuming this isn't
your idea

of a long-term solution.

We need to get rid of the fluid
in your lungs

so you'll be able to do
the test.

To see if it's my heart
or my lungs.

Exactly.

My money's on both.

I've been in and out
of the hospital

for the past year.

I'm old, I'm sick.

I'm getting older,
and sicker.

Not a very interesting
differential,

but--oh.

I'm in.

[groaning]

You don't need
a $400 handbag.

It's kinda hard
to check your throat

when you're flapping
your gums around.

Oh, sorry.

But it's for
the fall formal.

[imitating father]
He doesn't care if it's for
the Presidential Inauguration.

But I'm using
Marissa's old dress.

It's free.

Yeah, you know
what else is free?

Roof over your head,
the food you eat,

your phone, your computer.

How long
have you been congested?

A week, ever since we got back
from Fresno.

Fresno?
That's in France, right?

See the Parthenon?

Uh, California.

I've got no appetite,
I'm aching all over, I'm weak.

Does that hurt?
Oh, yeah.

Does his voice always have
that unattractive nasal tone?

[giggling]
Totally.

I'm gonna take that giggle
as a no.

Fever, aches, weakness,
loss of appetite.

Been having any anal sex
with IV drug users lately?

Of course not,
I'm married.

Do you think
she might've been--

(both)
No!

It's probably a rhinovirus.

What's that?

Cold.

Take this four times a day,
and stay off airplanes.

They're flying cesspools.

Oops.

You dropped something.

If there's anything else
you can think of, please call.

Yes?

He's too old and weak.

[grunting]
Yeah, this is way, way better.

This'll work.

Please, just try.

There are 20 words to describe
chest pain.

Burning, squeezing, stabbing,
tearing.

Each one
diagnostically useful.

For that, you have to thank
Dr. Powell's textbook.

But there are no words
to describe degrees

of what he's feeling
right now--

shortness of breath.

If he had worked
on those issues,

there would be.

He never would've given up
until he had an answer.

This isn't working.

Dr. House.

Please don't get up.

I'm sure you're very busy,

so I'm just gonna try
and speed things up a little.

Is that epi?

That's not the protocol.

No, the protocol is what
you tried to do and failed...

each time.

(House)
Up over 100.

Now we're getting somewhere.

How's it look, Foreman?

No EKG changes.

Then we push harder.

House, you're gonna kill him.

No, he's right!

[struggling with breath]
Let him do it.

See? That's why he doesn't
have to wear knee socks.

He can't breathe.

130.

That's our magic number.

Nothing here.

Foreman?

Still no sign
of blockages.

Which means
it's not the heart.

So it must be the lungs.

See?
Wasn't so hard, was it?

No! Just give me the rest
of the epinephrine.

Test is over, it's okay,
we're gonna stabilize you.

No!

No, just let me die.

You're not gonna die.

Yes, I am.

We'll find a treatment.

I don't wanna live
like this.

Please.

Begging you.

Kill me.

He says no more tests,
he wants to die.

And he wants us
to help him do it.

And I want to play
a little game I like to call

Block My Spike
with Misty May.

He's thought this through,
it's not an impulsive decision.

Neither is mine.

He's depressed.

He'll feel much better
after we cure him.

He's seen all the tests
we've seen.

Even if we figure out
what's causing the lung damage,

it's too late to reverse it.

You can't know that without
knowing what's wrong.

It's his call.

So, what do we do?

Put a plastic bag over his head
and get it over with?

No, we give him a syringe
full of morphine.

Every doctor I've ever
practiced with has done it.

They don't want to,
they don't like to,

but that's the way it is.

I haven't, I won't.

I couldn't do it either.

You just said we should respect
his decision.

Respect it doesn't
necessarily mean we honor it.

Right. It just means
we talk about it.

At some point, "do no harm"
has to mean allowing nature

to take its course,
not stubbornly standing

in the way of it.

Sticking a metal syringe
into a plastic IV line

and pumping in a lethal dose
of morphine

is not letting nature
take its course.

Not according to the state
of New Jersey.

So it's better we allow him
to slowly suffocate

in his own plasma?

Whose side are you on,
Senator?

First respect his wishes,
then invade Iraq,

then get the troops home...
make up your mind.

Wow.

Certainly a lot of
interesting things to consider.

Stress EKG rules out
the heart.

Which means something's
gotta be attacking his lungs.

Mycoplasma or strep pneumo.

The problem is, it's too late
to do anything about it.

We could try levofloxacin.

Coming up with a new treatment
isn't gonna do us any good

unless we convince him
it's worth trying.

Come on, he's old,
sick, tiny.

We can do whatever
we want to him.

[pagers beeping]

[grunting]

What happened?

I don't know.

He must've fallen out of bed
and got the nasal cannula

wrapped around his neck
somehow.

Ezra, what are you doing?

I don't want to live
hooked to machines.

Too we--too weak to wipe
my own ass.

Why would you want to wipe
your own ass,

when you could have
someone do it for you?

You're wasting your time.

There must be other patients
you could actually help.

No, all services rendered
on a first come,

first served basis.

I won't consent
to any more tests.

And if anyone tries to so much
as touch me,

I'll press charges
for assault.

Okay, well, you heard
the man.

He wants everyone
to leave him alone.

Why don't you go first?

Get out!

You came to me.

I didn't come to you.

I figured you'd have the guts
to do what had to be done

if it came to that.

We're nowhere near that.

It's time to test
your lungs.

Oh--uh!

Breathe.

You're gonna have to exhale
sometime.

Stop!
House, you're hurting him.

And you're hurting me.

[coughing]

Fine.

You don't want to help us,
we don't help you.

[wheezing]

Your lungs slowly fill
with fluid.

You gasp to catch every breath,
but never can.

Every breath is petrifying.

It'll be slow, painful,
torturous.

We don't choose our birth.

And we don't choose
our death.

What if you could?

How 'bout we make a deal?

You give me one more day.

If I don't find out exactly
what's wrong with you by then,

I'll help you die.

House.

24 hours.

C'mon, it's not gonna
kill you.

Ha.

Old guy, lungs, fluid, go.

You cannot help him
kill himself.

Of course I can, Chase says
we do it all the time.

Cuddy's not gonna let you.

Enough!

You don't want me
to kill him, fine.

Here's a big shock.

I don't want
to kill him either.

How do I not kill him?

By you guys doing
your job.

We have 24 hours to figure out
what's wrong with him.

Tick-tock, tick-tock!

I'll draw cultures.
Pneumonia.

Should be bacteria
in his blood.

That's gonna take longer
than 24 hours.

Not if I spin down
the sample.

Separate off the buffy coat,
then gram stain for bacteria.

Great, do an amylase, d-dimer,
C-reactive peptide,

get a urine, and do
a bronchial sputum

while you're at it.

You, check his home and lab
for radiation and toxins.

And do a bone marrow
biopsy.

All of that in 24 hours?

Nah, whatever
you don't get done,

you can finish
at the autopsy.

Wow, you guys look
like crap.

What do you got?

Purple dye
on my fingers.

What'd the bone marrow biopsy
show?

Don't have the results.

What? What have you
been doing all night?

Jell-O shots and wild sex,
what else?

(Foreman)
There's no bacteria
in the blood cultures.

We still have some cooking,
but so far...nothing.

Nothing in the urine.

The lab was clean enough
to do surgery in

because, well, they do.

There was no sign of viruses
or fleas on any of the rats.
[cell phone ringing]

Yeah?

Who?

Well, tell her to call
a clinic.

Then tell her
to leave a message,

and I'll get back to her.

Then tell her to leave
a personal message.

Who's that?

Your protégé.

What are these?

Dictation tapes,
he records everything.

Why?

Because he's
a diligent researcher?

Or he's losing his memory.

Lot of people dictate
their notes.

Yes, we could assume that,
and we'd have nothing.

Or we could assume
it's a symptom,

in which case,
whatever's in his lungs

is also in his brain.

Unless you got something
more promising.

I'll go get an MRI
of his head.

Keep testing until
you find something.

I'm going to my office
to rest for awhile.

It's been a long time
since I took an anatomy class,

but I'm pretty sure you're
moving farther and farther

away from my lungs.

Running out of places to look,
aren't you?

Doesn't mean
we're gonna stop looking.

Mm, no,
not for six more hours.

You want us to fail?

No.

But you will.

No abnormal nuclei
means no leukemia.

He a drinker?

Not according to the history.

Which means, yes, he drinks,
which gives us

a nice, mundane explanation
for the acellularity.

Or he's telling the truth.

Which means fungus
is still on the table.

But your entire view
of human nature gets destroyed.

Six of one, half a dozen
of the other.

Bad news fast.

Good news, you can
take your time.

Head's clean, you were wrong,
his faculties are intact.

Too bad.

If his brain was addled,

we wouldn't have to listen
to anything he says.

Hand me the 10% KOH.

It's 4:00, we have nothing
to tell him.

Then we have no reason
to talk to him.

Still haven't
ruled out fungus.

Yep, we have, no bugs,
no hyphae.

[sighs]

Okay, next procedure.

We sneak in,
turn back the clock.

Whole team.

Must be bad news.

Nope, bone marrow biopsy
revealed multiple myeloma.

It's not good news,
but there are some treatments.

We have to draw
some blood.

What about my breathing?

Associated hyperviscosity
syndrome gummed up

the blood vessels
in your lungs.

Dr. Chase said my calcium
is normal.

Mm, we call him Dr. Idiot.

There's no M protein
in my urine.

Odd presentation.

So odd that Dr. Cameron
doesn't--

doesn't believe it either.

Just give me 12 more hours.

We had a deal.

No more tests.

Fair enough.

Gimme six more hours.

Listen, there is no evidence
that you are terminal.

You a man of your word
or not?

No, as a matter of fact,
I'm not.

Fine.
Then discharge me.

My lungs will slowly fill
with fluid.

I'll gasp to catch
every breath.

But never can.

Every breath
will be petrifying.

It'll be slow, painful,
torturous.

You're really gonna let me
die like that?

[door opening]

Where you going?

Nowhere!

Everybody who can walk
should get outta here.

You can't do that.

Can't do what?

Administer
a prescription painkiller

to a patient
who's in pain?

Go, make sure
somebody sees you downstairs

in the cafeteria.

I can't let you do this.

Either I die in pain,
or I just die.

That's what the argument
is here.

No, it's about whether you die,
or we murder you.

What's gonna happen here
is that someone's getting

a buttload of morphine.

I'm not sure exactly who
at this point.

[wheezing]

I can't be a part
of this.

Thank you.

I always wondered exactly

what was on the other side.

Nothing.

What are you doing?

Getting a laryngoscope.

Don't just stand there,
help.

But you told him--
Yeah.

It was something
I like to call a lie.

Bad, I know, but it's
way further down the list

than murder.

Unconscious,
no more whining.

Keep testing him.

[tense music]

Go get a ventilator.

I can't do this all night.

(House)
We can legally assume

that he'd consent to whatever
a reasonable person

would consent to.

And a reasonable person
would obviously

consent to being put in a coma
against their will

just to satisfy
your curiosity.

I try to kill him,
you're mad.

I don't kill him,
you're mad.

All he wanted
was some dignity.

Were you in that room
with him?

Was he wearing a tux while he
was choking on his own plasma?

Keep doing the tests.

Take your time,
do it right.

Go.
Get to work.

Wait!

Cameron, why'd you do these cuts
so far down

on this MRI of his head?

I wanted to get his brain stem
and his C-spine,

make sure his diaphragm
wasn't paralyzed.

You also caught the top
of his lungs.

There's scarring.

You do know that you can't
really pierce me

with your stares?

Lung scarring,
along with the bad bone marrow,

points to an autoimmune disease.

Could be pulmonary fibrosis.

Or lupus.

He can kill himself
after we get him better.

Start him on an IVIG
for the lupus,

and get a colonoscopy.

Lupus could be hiding there.

I can't do this.

Drama queen.

Descending colon's clean.

[beeping]

(Chase)
Moving into the sigmoid.

Sure could use
a little more help around here.

She's doing
what she believes in.

Yeah, if she was acting
on principle,

she'd be in here trying
to stop us.

All she's doing is running away
from the principle

so she won't have to feel
uncomfortable facing it.

And if you were acting
on principle,

you would've called the cops
when you thought House

was killing the guy.

You better hurry up.

Why?

I don't think she's gonna
have a problem

deciding what
to tell Cuddy.

[beeping]

O2 sats 89 and dropping.

I thought you were only supposed
to put on a pound a week

during your last trimester.

[sighing]
I'm not pregnant.

I heard about your little stunt
with Dr. Powell.

Mmm, not really
a stunt.

More of a trick, a ruse,
a hoodwink.

A lie.
Okay.

Lying is sometimes good,
right?

Like when you're trying
to teach someone a lesson

about humility or something.

All I'm trying to do
is save his life.

He's not gonna
learn anything.

I just thought the same
principle might apply.

It does.

I could've just
let him die.

Not gonna get sued
for keeping him alive.

Well, we could.

We completely disregarded
his wishes.

Do you want me
to disagree with you?

Want me to yell at you?

It is comforting.

We're doctors.

We treat patients,
we don't kill them.

[softly]
Oh!

[loudly]
How right you are, Dr. Cuddy!

We also don't pad our bills,
swipe samples from the pharmacy,

or fantasize
about the teenage daughters

of our patients either.

True, better be true,
and you're a pig.

I'm sorry
about your leg.

Yeah, we really should spend
some time talking about that.

[sighs]

The IVIG made him worse.

O2 sats plummeted.

So we know
it's not lupus.

What else could it be?

Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.

Gonna need an open lung
biopsy to confirm.

So now we're gonna
operate on the guy?

Unless you've invented
a new way of doing

an open lung biopsy.

When you searched
Dr. Powell's office,

did you find a copy
of the January 1967

Massachusetts
Medical Journal?

Why?

I just figured, if you're
not doing any work,

you might like something
to pass the time.

Centerfold's a killer.

[simulating a crowd]
Aah!

How's your leg?

It hurts.

It's gonna keep on hurting.

You're gonna keep on asking?

How's Ezra Powell?

Resting comfortably.

Hmm, that's
not what Cameron says.

I hate practicing medicine
in high school.

He's not asking you
to help him kill himself.

He's just asking
for help.

The disease will kill him.

I know what
he was asking for.

I just said no.

You've done it before.

Plenty of times.

To patients that I knew
were terminal.

Oh, give me a break.

This has nothing to do
with saving a life.

You just can't bear the thought
of a patient dying

before you've been able
to figure out why.

If we're gonna keep refusing
to cure patients

just to rein in my ego,
then we might start

to have a little problem
with patient recruitment.

[pager beeping]

Worried about meeting
your one patient a week quota?

I'm a cripple, remember?

Accommodations must be made.

Wedge of left lobe isolated
and removed.

Clamp.

Why'd you have me
look up that article?

Didn't you find it
interesting?

He injected newborn babies
with radioactive agents

just to see if they had
urethral reflux.

He was curious.

He didn't even
tell their parents

he was doing an experiment.

He wasn't doing anything
his peers weren't doing.

His peers
at Tuskegee and Willowbrook?

He ignored the rights
of a few to save many.

So you're okay
with what he did.

Doesn't matter
what I think.

It's what you think
that's relevant.

Because if I think less of him,
I'll help you more?

You're wrong.

The fact that a patient
did bad things

doesn't change anything.

He still deserves to have
some control

over his own body.

If he had control
of his own body, he'd be dead.

Some control.

We can withhold treatment
without killing him.

No, you can't!

You either help him live,
or you help him die.

You can't have it both ways.

I guess it's not IPF.

[beeping]

Or maybe he'll die right now,

and make everything easy
for all of us.

[beeping]

Heart rate's fast.

(Chase)
BP's low.

No breath sounds
on the right side.

He's dropped his right lung.

Air's building up in his chest,
and pressing his heart.

Heart rate's decreasing.

BP's stabilizing.

What are you doing?

Withdraws from pain stimuli
on the left side,

but not the right.

Those are just reflex arcs.

He's under anesthesia.

Or he's lost sensation
in some places.

Or the hypoxia from the arrest
stunned his CNS.

Only one way to tell.

Do somatosensory evoked
potentials.

We can't do that
while he's in a coma.

Only two ways to tell.

Get a hammer and check
his deep tendon reflexes.

Won't work.

He needs muscle relaxants
to be on the ventilator.

Only one more way
to tell.

Pupillary reflexes.

All that tests
is the brainstem.

See, I was right.

Only one way to tell.

Do somatosensory evoked
potentials.

I just said we can't do that
while he's in a coma.

So wake him up.

Don't go towards the light.

You'll fall and break
your hip.

[coughing]

What's happening?

[wheezing]

You took a little nap.

I know I told you
I didn't want--

Sorry, a little deaf
in one ear.

Your bone marrow
was hypocellular.

Ruled out lupus
and pulmonary fibrosis.

But it looks like it could be
attacking your nerves.

So this is all a waste.

Huge failure.

Impossible.
You're Gregory House.

We need to attach some sensors
to your skin.

No.

Look, we can't do
what you want.

We've assigned a nurse
to watch you

so you can't do it
either.

So you might as well
just let us do the test.

No, I want to be
discharged.

(Chase)
You can't be discharged.

You've got
two chest tubes in.

Then take them out.

Oh, get over yourself.

The ventilator puffed up
your lungs.

You'll be fine
for a few hours.

Just let us run
the tests.

Okay.

But first,

let's clean you up
a little.

Wha--whuh?

Does that feel nice?

What are you trying
to prove?

Just cleaning him up.

What does it look like?

Pay no attention to the man
behind the curtain.

Get out!

Okay, I'm going already.

Can't you see
I'm a cripple?

(Foreman)
Okay, so you got me curious.

(House)
I was right.

Whatever is attacking his lungs
is attacking his nerves.

You got that by splashing
ice water on him?

No sensation in the left leg,
abdomen, right arm.

Technology's overrated.

That means the clean MRI
of his brain

means it's just affecting
the peripheral nerves.

And bone marrow.

Kawasaki's would explain
the kidney failure.

Or lymphoma.

Or sarcoidosis.

All potentially treatable.

Question is which.

We need to catch
the little bastards in the act.

What's the largest organ?
Skin.

We need to get
a piece.

Sure, we'll just wait
until he leaves his room

without his skin,
sneak in, and take a piece.

[snorting]

I want you to get a skin sample
for a biopsy.

And I want to get a foot massage
from Johnny Damon.

Kawasaki's disease, lymphoma,
and sarcoidosis

are all treatable.

And it could be 100 other things
that aren't treatable.

You have no idea.

But you do.

You know everything.

I didn't say that I--

Exactly!

You can't decide
if we're helping or hurting him.

If he's good or bad.

Or if you want paper,
plastic, or a burlap sack.

Do your damn job.

I'm not gonna lie to him.

Fine, tell the truth.

Just get me a pound
of flesh.

What do you want?

House wants to biopsy
your skin.

He sent me to get it.

Ah, and you agreed.

I had nothing to do
with putting you in a coma,

or any of the subsequent tests.

Which brings us to now.

I read some of your articles.

There were a lot of them.

1967 Massachusetts
Medical Journal.

You radiated babies,
just like that.

No forms, no questions,
nothing.

Who knows how many cancers
you caused?

I don't know.

What I do know is we discovered
techniques that prevent

fatal kidney failures
in hundreds of thousands

of other kids.

You're not sorry.

I don't regret what I did.

Informed consent,
patient rights

holds back research.

Ooh! Ah.

What the hell are you doing?

Informed consent
is holding back our diagnosis.

Good for you.

Finally standing up
for something.

Acting on what you believe.

Dr. House?

Hi.
How are you?

Not as good
as you think I am.

Don't worry,
I'm not stalking you.

My dad just lost
his medicine.

He had to come back
for another prescription.

Yeah, right.

He's moving it on the street,
isn't he?

Yeah, my dad,
the meth kingpin.

Why haven't you returned
any of my calls?

I plan to.

In a couple of years.

I was just calling
to say thank you,

and to tell you
how impressed I was.

You diagnosed my dad
by just looking at him.

Felt his glands too.

[soft laughter]

Oh, there's my dad.

I gotta go.

Yeah, me too.

Oh, and you really don't
have to wait

a couple years
to return my calls.

Just six months.

Till I turn 18.

[exhales]

It's not Kawasaki's either.

What's next?

Congo red.

Amyloidosis?

What the hell else would I mean
by Congo red?

It's not on the list.

There's no reason
for it to be on the list.

An abnormal protein
is building up

inside the cells
of his body,

shutting down his organs,
one by one.

Explains everything,
the infiltrates on the x-ray,

the bone marrow,
kidney failure.

We rejected amyloidosis
because it didn't fit

the first symptom we found.

It would affect his heart.
It did.

It wasn't
on the stress test.

We didn't push him
hard enough.

Add the stain,
let's find out.

Congo red added.

Change the polarization
of the light already.

That means
it should be treatable.

How the hell did you pull
that out of your--

Not out of mine,
I had a muse.

[Cameron sighs]

Oh, God.

Protein type AA.

Dr. House--

You have amyloidosis.

[softly]
Oh.

It's in your lungs, kidneys,
bone marrow, and brain.

Why should I believe you now?

[soft laughter]

If I was lying, I wouldn't
tell you the subtype is AA.

It's terminal.

Congratulations.

You got your answer.

[soft laughter]

[Mazzy Star's Into Dust]

*

* Still

* Falling

* Breathless and on

* Again

* Inside

* Today

* Beside me

* Today

* Around broken in two

* Till your eyes shed

* Into dust

* Like two strangers

* Turning into dust

* Till my hand

* Shook the way...

Ezra Powell passed away
last night.

But I'm sure you already knew
about that.

Nope.

I just got in.

The nurse charted at 2:00 AM
he was stable.

Breathing labored,
but regular.

Then at 2:30,
he suddenly stopped.

You know anything
about that?

If I did, would you really
want to know?

* I could

* Possibly be fading

* Or have

* Something more to gain

* I could feel myself

* growing colder

* I could feel myself

* Under your fate

* Under

* Your fate... *

I'm proud of you.

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