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Chronic Pain
My best friend. As if there's any question who that is. There's only one person stupid enough to put up with me. Why? Because he's more screwed up than I am. Do I get points for saying how tall he is, what color his eyes are, his hair? He likes Chinese food, spicy is better. He's attracted to neediness in people. That's probably what first attracted him to me.

We knew each other before I got sick. He's one of the leading Oncologists in the country, but my girl friend was the one who introduced us. I called him in for consults, we joined the same golf league. Doctors, you know. There's an unwritten law that doctors must play golf. You aren't taken seriously if you don't play golf. So we golfed together. He as't there the day it happened. He was out of town, on a conference.

Stacy must have called him. He would have dropped everything to come home, to be there for her when she needed him. That's just the way he is. And he makes it seem like it's genuine concern. It's not. It's his way of feeding his own selfish needs. because as long as he feels like people need him, he has a purpose. A reason. He's important.

When I pushed Stacy out of my life, he's the one who stepped up to the plate. He's the one who took every punishment I dished out in stride. He sat by my side, and he refused to give up or give in. Day and night, he was there, because I needed him. He'd never admit he's only hanging around now, waiting for me to need him again. I'm a miserable son of a bitch. I like wallowing in my misery. But sometimes it's too much, and I need him to pull me out of the hole I've created for myself. That's what he lives for.


Grab My Cane
The five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Everyone grieves in their life, be it over the loss of a loved one or a dream they just can't reach. How do you grieve?Collapse )


Grab My Cane
1. Title / Prompt: Wine Galsses /Wine
2. Character: Dr Greg Hosue, and featuring Dr James Wilson
3. Warnings: Mild swearing
4. Pairings: House & Wilson strong friendship
5. Your character's fandom: House, MD
6. Word count: 239
7. Rating: Average
8. Disclaimer: Drs Greg House and James Wilson belong to David Shore and Bad Hat Productions, and are written here for entertainment only.
9. Notes: Takes place after the Vogler fiasco, specifically after "Babies And Bathwater"
Cpmments/RP welcome.

Foreman and Chase left within minutes after Cuddy, leaving House and Wilson alone in the office. Wilson poured the last of the wine from the bottle into the two glasses they had been using, tipping House's glass a little fuller than his own. House acknowledged the gesture with a tilt of his head as he reached for the glass. He didn't chug it the way Cuddy had, but drank it in slow sips to savor the taste.

"You think she's really mad at me?" House's bright eyes shifted toward the door.

Wilson leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the edge of House's desk. "Yeah, Ace, I think she is."

House looked down into his wine glass as if studying it. He sloshed the liquid around, splashing a few drops on his thumb. He liked it off his hand andsighed. "She'll get over it."

"The guy was a jerk, I'm with you there, House," Wilson started, but fell silent. Vogler took with him a substantial chink of money, money the hospital could really benefit from. Was getting rid of the tyrant worth losing a hundred million dollars? Wilson hadn't had time to process it all, but he thought maybe it was. Princeton-Plainsboro was a successful hospital, losing Edward Vogler's endorsement wasn't going to take the hospital down.

House met Wilson's gaze. The two shared a silent nod, and a simultaneous draining of their wine glasses.


2 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
He had Mick Jagger singing on the stereo. Words of wisdom, words he'd said many times before. "You can't always get what you want." He sneered at those words now., and straightened his back in defiance.

All he wanted was to walk. Normally. Without pain, without cane.

He tossed his cane to the couch, watched it roll to the crease where the pillows met the cushions. He closed his eyes, briefly, ad took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He had no reason to be nervous. He was just going to walk. He'd been walking all his life. His mother loved to tell the story about how he'd walked out of his bedroom when he was just ten months old. He'd climbed out of his crib and walked out into the family room of the apartment in Hamburg.

He'd let his pain stunt his steps for far too long. He knew well that he was missing the adductors and the quadceps in his thigh, and that was why he couldn't walk without his cane. He could take short, painful steps. He could move fast if he had to, if he was motivated, but he paid the price for it later. There was always a price to pay. His back hurt, his shoulder ached from leaning on the cane. The muscles that remained in his thigh tensed and cramped to the point of taking his breath away.

Behind him, Mick kept on singing. "You can't always get what you want, And if you try sometimes you find, You get what you need." Greg scrubbed both hands over his face. Dug at the ducts in the corner of his eyes. Pinched the bridge of his nose, then took a deep breath. He could do this. Walking was as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. Like riding a bike, something you could never really forget how to do.

He just had to...do it. He bent down to rub his thigh, relaxing what muscle was left. "You can do this, Greg," he muttered to himself, catching his own eye in the mirror above the fireplace. He looked...different somehow. Determined. Focused. Confidant. He could do this. One foot in front of the other. Easy.

He extended his right foot. So far so good. "And I went down to the demonstration, To get my fair share of abuse," Mick crooned.

As soon as his left foot moved off the floor, he knew he was going down. His leg was in mid swing, and the right leg just couldn't take the weight. His knee bent, he threw his arms out to try to catch himself, complete with a string of curses.

He caught himself on the seat of the nearest chair, so that he didn't hit the ground. Pain seized his thigh, jolted into his back. For a long moment he couldn't move at all. It took all his inner strength to force himself to move. He eased himself around and down to the chair. His right leg curled up reflexively, seeking relief from the constant and unabaiting throbbing that claimed his thigh. He gripped the knee with both hands and rocked himself forward, seeking any way he could to alleviate the pain.

Mick kept singing. He was aware of the song in the back of his mind, his lips moving with the words to try to distract himself. "I went down to the Chelsea drugstore, To get your prescription filled, I was standing in line with Mr. Jimmy, And man, did he look pretty ill"

He wasn't sure how long he sat there cradling his leg. There was really no way to measure time when the whole world seemed to split open and all he could do was breathe through it. Finally recovering enough to think coherently, his mind flashed on his pills. He'd taken one before the experiment, but it wasn't enough. He needed more.

He fumbled with the bottle. The lid hung on the flap of material inside his pocket. His hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough to let him open the bottle once he got it free of his pocket. He took several deep breaths meant to calm him down. He only felt more frustrated. Unable to work the bottle, he threw it instead, s that it hit the wall and popped open from the force of impact. White pills rained down on the floor and scattered on the floor.

He didn't cry. He wouldn't cry. Instead he slammed his fist against his thigh and howled with the shock of the pain. The tears that filled his eyes then were from the pain. His palm opened and his fingers curled around the throbbing muscle.

"You can't always get what you want, And if you try sometimes you find, You get what you need."


Grab My Cane
"This is rediculous," Greg House declared to his empty office. He was reminded why he hated therapy. He'd read the studies about how theraputic writing could be. He kept a bedside journal, wrote in it occassionally. Randomly. He'd determined he didn't feel any differentwhen he wrote in it and when he didn't write in it. He wa the margin of error in a theraputic effects of journaling study. Well, that's what he'd want anyway. He preferred not to be catagorised with the masses.

He glanced at the current topic suggestion again. Write about your weakness. Right. Like that was going to happen. He didn't like thinking about his leg, he certainly wasn't going to write about it. The whole idea was stupid. Utterly and completely stupid. There wasn't much point.

Maybe his weakness was how he interacted with people. No. He didn't want to go there either. He'd posed the question before, would you rather have a nice doctor who lies and gives you false hope, or a doctor who tells you like it is? Kindness didn't accomplish anything. Kindness made peopl weak, and he wasn't weak.

After tapping his pen on his paper leaving a splay of stray dots, Greg scribbled a few words under the topic suggestion: I have no weakness to write about.

Greg House
House MD
216 Words
Comments/RP welcomed


Grab My Cane
Topic 29: "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." -Blanche DuBois (in Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire)
[407 words]

I'm not sure I would call it "kindness" exactly. More like "stubbornness" and "determination". He just wouldn't leave, no matter what I did to try to push him away.

We didn't really even know each other that well. He was in Oncology, around the corner, I called him in for an occasional consult. Mostly I picked on him and belittled him. I didn't think he liked me that much. I was certain he thought I didn't like him. We tolerated each other because we had to work together, and we were in the same golf foursome.

It wasn't that I didn't like him. I just didn't care. I'd never had friends. I moved around so much when I was a kid, I lived all over the world, but never long enough anywhere to make friends. I didn't need friends, and I didn't label people as friends, really, because I didn't know what the word meant beyond the standard definition.

I found out, after I got sick. After the infarction. After my girlfriend betrayed me, and went deliberately against my wishes. I couldn't look at her after that. I didn't want her near me. I didn't want her to see me suffering through the recovery. I pushed her away, and he was there. He stepped up to take her place at my side.

I tried to get rid of him. I stubbornly refused to cooperate with him. I threw bed pans at him. I gave him the silent treatment when he came in my room, or I assaulted him with insults and stinging one liners.

He kept coming back. Some nights he never left. When I had a really bad day, he stayed. He didn't hold my hand. He rarely touched me at all, unless it was medically necessary. He read to me, or he sat beside me and didn't say a word.

He gave me back the will to live. He made me want to get better. I could have lain there and wasted away. It was entirely possible and highly probable I would never walk again. But he wouldn't accept that. He didn't want that for me. His quiet presence nudged me forward and made me get up out of that damn bed.

It wasn't "kindness" on his part. He didn't stay beside me because he was kind. Most of the time, he wasn't kind. He was stubborn and determined. He was, I realised, a friend.


44 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
I've decided to drop Greg from grand_cntrl_stt as his storyline with James has outgrown the boundaries of the game.

If you follow James and Greg and wish to keep up with them in their new home, please see montana_lodge
2 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
1. Title / Prompt: I Got You A Present/July 05: First
2. Character: Dr Greg House, and featuring Dr James Wilson
3. Warnings: None
4. Pairings: House & Wilson strong friendship
5. Your character's fandom: House, MD
6. Word count: 400
7. Rating: Average
8. Disclaimer: Drs Greg House and James Wilson belong to David Shore and Bad Hat Productions, and are written here for entertainment only.
9. Notes: Takes place sometime after the infarction. (Has been on LJ under a different username, but was still me writing it)

I Got You A PresentCollapse )


Grab My Cane
Stolen from miami_nvrcloses

Here are a series of questions for your pup to answer about my pup. Answer them from your pup's perspective.

This is open to all pups from grand_cntrl_stt and fandom_towers

My name:

Where did we meet?:

Take a stab at my middle name:

How long have you known me?:

More Questions!Collapse )


7 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
1. Title / Prompt: Therapy/Sharp
2. Character: Dr Greg Hosue, and featuring Dr James Wilson
3. Warnings: Mild swearing
4. Pairings: House & Wilson strong friendship
5. Your character's fandom: House, MD
6. Word count: 468
7. Rating: Average
8. Disclaimer: Drs Greg House and James Wilson belong to David Shore and Bad Hat Productions, and are written here for entertainment only.
9. Notes: Takes place sometime after the infarction. House is resisting therapy. Wilson is the voice or reason. Only he's somewhat unreasonable in his attempt to reason.

TherapyCollapse )


Grab My Cane
[Continued from here, Sophie joins the boys for dinner and Greg resists kitchen duty. Sophie's gone home, and the boys are alone. In the kitchen]

"Good thing," Greg quipped, and jutted his hips, pressing himself against James rather suggestively. He wouldn't suggest that he expected a reward for his kitchen duties, although that might have been inferred in the flickering of his eyes toward the clean dishes. HIs hands were slightly wrinkled from the eexposure to water, but that didn't stop him from caressing James' face.

"Been a long time since I did anything sinful in the kitchen."
56 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
[OOC: Backdated to the morning after this! *Link is NWS*]

He was afraid to wake up. Afraid upon waking he would realise it was all a dream. Afraid James hadn't come at all, that the drugs had created the elaborate illusion. Afraid he'd wake up alone again, and in pain. In pain was a given. Unless he set himself up with a morphine drip through the night, he was always goig to wake up in pain.

He shifted, moving his legs before he dared open his eyes. There was no tell tale sound of the hair dryer, no sounds of any sort of grooming from the bathroom. What if it was all just a dream? He wasn't sure he could face that realitry.

His entire body felt stiff. His thighs felt sticky. If it was a dream, it had been a damn good one. He rolled on to his back, his hands groping under the sheets to massage his leg. It didn't help, except to make him feel better. To give him a morning ritual.He finally dared to open his eyes, to look to the pillow next to his. "James..." he murmured, seeing the man, his best friend, his lover, still sleeping.

He looed so young, so peaceful in sleep. So beautiful. Shifting against the pain throbbing in his leg, Greg decided that waking him with a kiss was the only way to go.

Tags: ,

101 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
1. Title / Prompt. Everybody Needs A Little Mending Now And Then/005: Mend
2. Character. Dr Greg Hosue, and featuring Dr James Wilson
3. Warnings: --
4. Pairings --
5. Your character's fandom. House, MD
6. Word count. 220
7. Rating. Average
8. Disclaimer. Drs Greg House and James Wilson belong to David Shore and Bad Hat Productions, and are written here for entertainment only.
9. Notes: Takes place sometime after the infarction

"Rough day today, Ace?" James Wilson sauntered into Greg's room. Greg rolled his eyes, then set his gaze on the wall ahead, refusing to look at James. James dropped into the chair by the bed and propped his feet up on the mattress with a sigh.

Greg rolled over, to face the window, presenting his back to James. James sighed and dropped his feet to the floor. He knew that would get Greg to turn back around. He lay on his back, curiosity brightening his blue eyes.

On his feet, James captured Greg's foot and pressed against the underside. Greg's gaze jerked because he didn't dare jar his leg, his gaze shifting to questioning. "Get your hands off me."

"Relax, House."

"What are you doing?" Greg's tone was accusatory.

James' fingers dug into the tender muscle. He watched Greg's reactions carefully, looking for any sign of true discomfort. "Everybody needs a little mending now and then, House. Even you."

"No. I don't. Leave me alone." Greg sat up, caught his hands around James' wrist. "Stop."

James' hands stilled, and he held Greg's gaze. He didn't realise he was holding his breath until Greg dropped back down to the pillows, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye to slide down his cheek.

Without comment, James resumed his massage.


Grab My Cane
I've made the difficult decision to drop House from Fandom Tropolis. Since I'v ehad him on hiatus, RL has gone wonky both in my personal and my professional life. Work. Is. Not. Fun. Right. Now. And since I'v ehad the boy on hiatus, I'v ebeen able t step back and be a bit more objective.

I don't feel him like I used to, and he's never really settled in to the FT scene. He's made some wonderful friends. Susan and Simon really made an impact on him. Wilson and Geoff and Phale, of course. But I really never had a chance to play him like I wanted to, and I really don't see that changing.

So. It is with a heavy heart that I leave you. I wish you all the best, and more. Thank you muchly to everyone who played with me and with Greg. He's probably forever going to be the one character who gives me the worst sort of bleed imaginable.

I already miss you guys, but it's really for the best, I think.

Michelle, and House.

PS - House is NOT leaving fandom_towers or grand_cntrl_stt as those are completely different Greg-shaped pups, and will continue to use this journal.


4 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
He'd called out of work both Thursday and Friday, and spent most of the days in bed. That had him up, and pacing the house, at night. He knew he was being unfair to Geoff, but he couldn't seem to help it. He'd answered any questions Geoff asked as clamly as he could, when it was obvious he wasn't feeling very calm at all, and by Friday afternoon, Geoff was suggesting he'd go to Dr Tam about the treatment options Dr Jinn had sprovided for House to look over. It wasn't a threat, even though House preceived it as such to begin with. More of a concerned warning. A suggestion that Geoff was willing to take care of thngs, if House eeither wasn't willing, or if he refused.

He'd grumbled and groaned, but had taken the packet of information from Dr Jinn. He'd looked over it, and discounted two of the prorams out of hand, claiming they were not at all what he needed. The other four, he'd look in to more intensely on the computer and through phone calls to various personell at the fascilities. It turned out he knew the Operating Director at the fascility in Denver, that specialised in mobility and pain management.

A call late in the day on Friday reached Josh Rymen just moments before he headed out of the office for the weekend. He'd ended up staying an hour late, and securing a spot in the center for Greg as early as Monday. Geoff had plans for the early week in Tropolis, and Greg pushed his arrival date back to the following Monday, May 8.

[OOC: Again set up for House and Geoff's May Hiatus]
Grab My Cane
*I* do not do thesesilly meme things, but my mun thinks this one is just...

Too good not to postCollapse )
Grab My Cane
He'd scheduled the appointment for his lunch break on Wednesday. Geoff met him in the ER and they went up to Dr Jinn's office together. The battery of tests he'd endured over the week proved some discouraging news. He'd tried to ignore the ever increasing pain he'd felt in his knee, refused to acknowledge that his knee hurt worse than his thigh at times, and his back was giving him more trouble. He'd discounted it, credited to working longer shifts in the ER, more intensely physical work than he'd experienced at the High School clinic, and the lack of consistent pain management.

He'd been off the Vicodin since November Five months. He couldn't disclose exactly what treatment he'd gotten from Aziraphale, and listed it as new age, experimentation without drigs, that he had stopped after a couple months. He'd owned up to the morphine injections he'd taken in the past month or so. Dr Jinn had reviewed the information, and his test results.

He'd remained optimistic about the effects of Acupuncture, but had advised House that he was dealing with a larger scale picture. There was little change in the remaining thigh muscle, but substantial detterioration showed in his knee and weakness in his lower back. He was a candidat efor both knee replacement and back surgery. Assuming he would prefer to avoid either, Dr Jinn provided him with information on half a dozen radical "new age" treatment fascilities around the country.

The Acupuncture treatment went as scheduled, a series of needles inserted in key points. The effect was difficult to gauge, as he was uptight now, about the new information. Information he would have known for himself, if he'd only listened to his body. Afterward, he'd been too tired to go back to work, and had signed out early. He and Geoff had gone to a npc Chinese resturant for lunch, though Greg hadn't eaten much.

He'd gone home to sleep, rather than look in to the programs and fascilities Dr Jinn had provided him with. He'd attempted to settle Geoff's obvious unease with a kiss and a couple sarcastic jokes, but he'd had the feeling it hadn't played off as well as he'd hoped. He'd fallen asleep, finally, with heated towels on his leg, and Geoff beside him.

[OOC: Set up for House and Geoff to go out of town toward the end of next week, and on hiatus for about a month, give or take as I'm fast approaching the end of the school year, and as a teacher I've got lots of craziness coming up in RL]

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Grab My Cane
If Geoff hadn't shown up at the hospital when he did, House might have missed his appointment with Dr Jinn. Not intentionally. But he'd been so busy with trying to avoid patients that he hadn't realised what time it was. But Geoff was there, as promised, and they went up to Dr Jinn's office together.

Dr Jinn was a little older than Greg. In his early fifties. He'd studied medicine in his native China, and was an expert in the practice of acupuncture and all that went with it. He took the time to explain, to answer questions (both asked and not asked).

House absorbed it all. He'd done the research, online and in medical journals. He knew what he was getting in to. He wasn't sure it woud work, but he was willing to try anything.

His first treatment appointment was scheduled for the following Wednesday, a week away.
Grab My Cane
He'd put off talking to Simon long enough. Especially in light of the recent ripple with Geoff, he needed to talk to the man. Try to explain. And hopefully come away with a string friendship. He knew he needed a friend, and Simon would be a good one to have. If he hadn't completely mucked it up.

He left Geoff with an explanation that he had some things to take care of. He'd tell him afterwards just what he'd done.

Four houses. He was four houses over. And it seemed like the longest walk of his life.That wasn't strictly true if he counted the first time he'd walked on his own, just six feet across the gym, after the infarction. This? Was completely different.

He wanted a Vicodin. He hadn't even thought about his pills for a long time. Morphine trumped the Vicodin, or at least numbed him enough that he didn't think about the pills. He thought about needles instead. Injections direct to the blood stream.

He couldn't have either. He needed to find a drug-free pain management program. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

He raised his cane, using the handle to knock on Simon Tam's front door, taking a risk the man would even be home and willin to talk to him.

Current Mood: distressed

10 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane
Geoff had called, late Monday, to say he wasn't going to make it home in time for Wilson's party. House had tried to maintain a mask of indifference, though it upset him trhat Geoff cancelled on him at the last minue. That he had to go to Wilson's party alone.

He'd lacked the energy to climb the stairs, and had fallen asleep on the couch in the family room. Part of him knew he'd been waiting up for Geoff, though he would never admit it.

Geoff finally came home, drunk. In the daze of sleep, House attacked him the moment he walked in the door. Demanded to know where he'd been, and reacted defensively when he realised Geoff was drunk. He'd felt his emotions bend and twist out of control. He felt like he'd felt back in November, in December, after he'd given up his Vicodin. He'd tried to reign himself in, had tried to avoid a physical confrontation. And he'd thrown a punch anyway. He knew he'd hit Geoff's jaw, but Geoff hadn't stuck around long enough for him to see how badly it bruised.

Geoff had been gone for two days. Two and a half days. He'd stumbled out, soon after House hit him. House hadn't even tried to stop him. He'd been afraid he'd lose complete control of himself if he did, if he made Geoff stay. Geoff was drunk, he was high on Morphine. He had very little self control as it was. And what he had went out the window.

He'd trashed the entire house. He'd left nothing untouched, save the plates and glasses in he kitchen and both his pianos. Everything lse had been up turned or destroyed. He'd slept, finally, amung the wreckage in his bedroom. His hand ached, when he woke, from holding the Scrabble tile so tightly in his hand.

He'd gone to work Tuesday, again wearing a mask of indifference. Wilson was on vacation, and he'd avoided Simon as much as possible.

Wednesday was the same. And Thursday. He wasn't eating, he had no appetite. He'd driven Geoff away. Just like he drove Wilson away. Stacy.

He'd pushed Stacy right out of his life. Had left town on the heels of her return. He'd pushed WIlson out of his bed, and the relationship was strained still. Because of him. Because he'd used and abused and hadn't offered his best friend the truth and support he'd needed. Because he was selfish and self centered and unwilling to give an inch.

He'd pushed Geoff away, and maybe it was too late, but he wasn't going to sit around in the war zone of his home, their home, and feel sorry for himself. No. This time was going to be different. This time he was going to make an effort. Prove that he was willing to work on the things he knew needed work. Reaching out. Opening up. Loving. Accepting.

He sat on the floor, and called Cash over to him. The puppy approached slowly, with his hunches low to the ground. Cautious. He finally lay with his head on Hosue's good thigh, and House rubbed his head as he punched the buttons on his scell.

[OOC: Phone call to geoff_chaucer]

Current Mood: distressed

87 Grabbed My Cane or Grab My Cane