Are you thinkin' about taking drugs?
Well, think again, because drugs are not the answer.
Take it from me, Hank Wiggen.
Oh, don't remember this ugly mug?
Two years ago, I was a star. I won n-nine games in a row.
- But by the end of August, I was gone-- - Cut! Cut!
- Not good, huh? - Well, you caught the ball.
Yeah.
Look, I usually don't, you know, give line readings, but let me-- Try this.
Hollywood ain't holdin' its breath.
Yeah, well, they're doin' it wrong. I mean, for Hank.
Tell the director.
I thought I'd give the marriage a few months before I go for the meddling wife thing.
His arm came back the day after you hooked up. I say meddle.
You okay? Just gas.
Go help your man. Give me a little room here to work it out.
Take it from me, Hank Wiggen.
Like that? No.
Hey, sweetheart. Hey.
Hi, Bryan. Hey.
Having trouble with the big speech? Yeah. You got any ideas?
It's your story. Just be yourself.
Drugs were there, you took 'em. Simple.
Why'd you get clean? 'Cause I was gonna die.
And, come April, 'cause you're clean,
you're starting Opening Day against the Yanks.
Try it her way? Yeah.
Okay. Okay.
Let's start with the second part first. That'll get him in the groove. Okay.
We'll do the throwing thing first.
Everybody wants to direct.
- Warner all right? - Yeah, he's good.
You just bring it, babe. Just tell your story.
Roll cameras.
Rolling. Sound. Speed.
Come on, kid! Show 'em what you're gonna give the Yankees!
All right, action!
Oh, God!
You okay? It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.
He's got osteopenia. His bones are too thin to fix the arm problem.
No. Price is not a problem if you have what I need.
Young man? How did you know?
Well, if he's an old man, osteopenia would just be a fact of life.
You make him comfortable, send him home, which means you're just boring me.
So he's young, which means it's most likely caused by cancer.
You're here because you haven't found it. Have you looked really, really hard?
M.R.I. and PET scan are both negative.
Well, how old is he? Maybe the osteopenia is just early onset.
Ah, let's see.
"Born 9/21 /77".
It's Hank Wiggen?
And he signed it. Sweet. Yeah.
"To Jimmy Wilson, the Cy Young of medicine".
Did you ask for that? Just the "Jimmy" part.
The bone's too thin to support the kind of surgery that would let him pitch again.
But if we figure out what's causing the osteopenia,
we can reverse the bone damage, then do the surgery.
Beat the Yankees and save the free world.
It was a working dinner.
My work-- Company pays.
I don't know. I just feel kind of weird after what it turned into.
Well, then it stopped being work.
You know, if it'll solve your ethics problem,
you can reimburse me for these.
What are they, $5.57, I believe?
Mmm. Let me know about Friday?
- Yeah. - Mmm.
None of the usual suspects.
Age isn't right, in apparent perfect health before this incident,
M.R.I. and PET scan negative for tumors. Test him again. It's gotta be cancer.
Sorry I'm late. Car broke down on the interstate.
Don't believe you. CHEM-7 shows a poor kidney function.
- Why would a guy in his 20s have a poor kidney function? - Cancer.
It first attacks the bones, and then the kidneys.
Come on, people. He was 17 and 7. His E.R.A. was 2.1.
You want it to be his kidneys, because if it's his kidneys, then maybe we can treat it, fix it.
And if it's cancer, then he'll never pitch again.
If this were a regular guy who broke his arm lifting a box, you would've sent him home.
My God, you're right. I lost my head. All life is equally sacred.
I promise you. The next knitting injury that comes in here, we're on it like stink on cheese.
- He weighed 175 his rookie year. - Stop.
Now he's 195 after playing a year in Japan.
Why? He let himself go.
Steroids. The guy was a drug user. I'm sure he wouldn't have balked at pumping up through chemicals.
That'd explain the weight gain and the kidney problems.
And the bone loss. Go ask him what he's on.
When he says nothing, have him pee in a cup.
If your car breaks down, you're an hour late, not two minutes.
And two minutes isn't late enough to use a clever excuse like car trouble.
I was coming in early. Huh.
Unprompted lies. That's a bad sign.
Either a guilty conscience, or something personal's going on.
See, that's all you had to do-- just walk in, sit down, do your job.
No. No, I never took 'em.
We're gonna need a urine sample.
Oh, no, you don't trust me.
Baby, I'm worried about takin' this morphine.
You're in pain.
The doses are monitored. It's not a slip.
Besides, opiates weren't your thing.
They should've been. Whoa.
Mr. Wiggen? The urine sample.
I wanna say no, so I am-- no.
Trust is a big issue in early recovery. He really did gain the weight honestly.
If you say so.
You're not gettin' it.
He thinks I'm an idiot.
He sure does.
Should we save a sample?
Dr. Sports Fan can put it in Lucite and hang it around his neck.
Hey, Friday night, can you cover for me?
I think so.
Oh, Friday. No, I'm sorry. I have to go to that oncology thing, the seminar.
Oh. What's goin' on?
Dinner with the drug rep.
Castine Pharmaceuticals.
Arnie? Claims he has 500 lawyer jokes, only tells one?
Uh... new guy.
You need cash?
No, I-- I don't have that much on me.
No, no, it's not a problem.
I'll be over by 6:00. Okay.
5:00 p.m. Dr. House checks out.
It's 4:45. I was rounding up.
Carol Moffatt. Please see Dr. House in Exam One.
- Whoa, whoa, not so fast, Cathy. - It's Carol.
Uh-- Uh, trouble with the leg?
- When's the wedding? - This Saturday.
Ooh. Not much time to fit into that pretty dress. And no time for practical shoe shopping.
- You're running two miles a day further than you should be. - It hurts right here--
New shoes, less miles, and ix-nay on the afternoon Cokes. You're gonna look beautiful.
- What's wrong with you? - I can't get my contact lenses out.
Out of what? They're not in your eyes.
- But they're red. - That's because you're trying to remove your corneas.
What's wrong with you? Uh, lately, my wife has noticed that--
Yeah, yeah. Symptoms. We're working on a personal best here.
U-Uh, numbness in my feet and hands, uh, constipation--
And? Maybe he doesn't feel comfortable talking about his private matters.
Well, neither would I if I was having trouble controlling my pee-pee.
You're a dentist. Nitrous oxide poisoning.
Which means you're either dipping into your own supply or you got a bad valve in your office.
Laughing gas rehab's probably more expensive than the plumber.
Meanwhile, get yourself some B-12.
Who's left? I can't see.
No, I'm just screwin' with you. It's a hangover.
My English lit prof told me he'd fail me next time if I didn't show up with a doctor's note.
Well, make friends with the dentist. He can give you a note, and maybe a little nitrous to take the edge off.
Dr. House.
He tested negative for steroids.
Elevated beta-2 proteins though.
Could be cancerous-- amyloidosis or lymphoma.
Or steroids. You guys got any money on you?
He tested negative for steroids.
I have a couple 20s on me. Fifty of'em?
Foreman? The fat-pad biopsy and abdominal C.T. scan were negative for the cancers, but--
That just leaves us with steroids.
He tested negative for steroids.
Less money is made by biochemists working on a cure for cancer...
than by their colleagues struggling valiantly to find ways to hide steroid use.
But there is one thing they can't hide.
Hi. I'm Dr. House.
And this is the coolest day of my life.
See? Steroid use shrinks the testicles.
I'm clean, man. No steroids, no nothin'.
Your lips say no, your prunes say yes.
Hypogonadism. Isn't that a great word?
Thanks. We don't get to say it nearly enough. Start him on Lupron right away.
These freaks are willing to defile themselves for mass entertainment.
For money. I feel sorry for them.
He drops a clean urine, denies using steroids.
And you're giving him a drug for what, steroid abuse?
No, no, it's not. It's got calcium in it.
It's very good for the bones.
Basically, at a molecular level, it's just milk.
Dr. Whitman to Anesthesiology. Dr. Whitman, Anesthesiology.
How long do you figure before I get a call from Cuddy?
- You put him on Lupron? - Uh-huh.
- And you told them it was like milk. - Yes.
Is there any way in which that is not a lie?
It's creamy.
- But I had three reasons. - Good ones?
Well, we'll see in a minute. I'm just making them up now.
- He lied to me first. - Your mother did teach you two wrongs don't make a right.
If he lies to me about not taking steroids, and I lie to him about not treating steroids, he's cured.
Adds up for me. Second reason.
If I told him the truth, he wouldn't have taken the stuff.
And if he told you the truth, what would the stuff do to him?
- Severe respiratory problems. - Third reason?
I wanted to eliminate the placebo effect.
Excellent.
You and your lawyer can write a paper.
Which brings me to my fourth reason. I thought you said there were only three.
- I thought you'd buy one of'em. - Seriously?
He's not gonna sue.
Because his lawyer is a nice guy...
who'll realize it's unfair to blame us for ruining this kid's $100 million career.
Good guess, but no.
If the Lupron causes respiratory problems, it means he's not on steroids.
Which means there's something else wrong with him.
And the choices for that something else...
are almost universally very bad.
Osteopenia, messing his bones up.
Hypogonadism, impaired liver function, kidney function.
And we have managed to find the only professional athlete in the galaxy...
who is not on steroids.
And it's not cancer.
So what's killing him?
Who shares my suspicions that the Yankees were somehow involved?
Shrunken testicles indicate his body's not putting out enough testosterone.
Throw out the lungs. That was the Lupron-- my fault. Don't worry. I'll send him a nice note.
What about something environmental?
Arsenic, mercury. The symptoms could indicate--
Pretty small environment. Wife's fine, no one else is sick.
If you throw out the kidneys, everything else adds up.
The testicles, the bones, the impaired liver function...
could all be caused by a breakdown of his adrenal glands.
Addison's disease. I like it.
Mainly, ofcourse, because the treatment is--
- Steroids. - Enough irony for all of us.
Treatment would cause him to retain fluid.
- With the kidneys almost shut down already, he'll die. - So we'll get him a new kidney.
Your theory is that Addison's is causing all the symptoms...
except for the kidney problems.
- What's causing the kidney problems? - Cameron, if you had to make an ironic guess right about now--
He tested negative for steroids.
Agreed. He's not on steroids now.
But if he was on them at any time in the last five years, it could have caused the kidney damage.
You see, kidneys don't wear watches.
Sure, gall bladders do, but it doesn't matter, 'cause kidneys can't tell time.
Steroid damage could take years.
No steroids. How many times does he have to tell you?
I don't know.
How many times did he lie about cocaine before coming clean with the league?
- That's completely different. - Oh, that's right, I remember.
You never did come clean. The league was out to get you. They faked the blood tests.
You had to get yourself a lawyer and everything.
If Hank says he never used steroids, that's the truth.
That's too bad, because our theory is that the kidney damage is caused by "A",
and everything else is caused by "B".
The beauty of this theory is that we can treat "A" and "B".
But if you add the kidney symptoms back into the mix,
then we are looking at another letter altogether,
one that is apparently not in the alphabet.
We can't fix the bones, no more baseball, no more breathing,
no more brain function.
Get another explanation.
Okay. Yeah, I think I got one in my other pants.
Hold on.
Five years ago. Bangor, Maine.
My pitching coach had me on something. I never knew what it was.
And you never tried too hard to find out either.
I gained twelve pounds of muscle in, like, four weeks.
I'm sorry, baby.
Huh?
How ya doin', Doc? Good. Very good, yeah.
You want me to put Hank Wiggen on the transplant list.
He needs a new kidney. I was thinking the kidney people might have some.
They like to save them for people who have-- How do I put this? Kidney problems.
He's a professional ball player. Brings joy to millions.
Do you really want to be known as the hospital that sent him home to die?
That's a great idea. We could be the hospital that killed two people--
the guy who deserved the kidney, and the ball player we bumped up the list...
when we weren't even sure what was wrong with him.
Everything else is related to the Addison's.
The test for Addison's was inconclusive.
The test for Addison's is always inconclusive.
Why do we do it at all? We should just ask you.
You're not putting him on the list.
Your powers of deduction are breathtaking.
- You take a perverse pleasure in turning me down. - What I live for.
Once in a while, though, try to ruin my day-- ask me something I can say "Yes" to.
Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't know you were busy. Want me to come back?
- Is he on the list? - No.
- Then I'm giving him one of mine. - Okay.
You're not gonna tell me it's a bad idea? Why give a kidney to someone who might not be able to use it?
Not my area.
That is, however, my chair.
When do we do it?
Very noble gesture.
My favorite kind. Dramatic, yet completely empty.
The chances of nonidentical twins being a match--
You live alone? You writing a book?
I made it a question just 'cause it's more polite.
You got a big "keep out" sign stapled on your forehead.
That explains it. I told 'em to put it on my door.
Even if real human contact is something you don't have or even want or need,
you should at least be able to see it in other people.
Yeah. Right.
True love-- that's just how we match organs these days.
There's a couple in France-- high school sweethearts-- they're trading brains.
We're a match. Run your tests.
Hey. The lab call? Is she a match?
Haven't heard yet.
You got a text message, though. "Friday night". Very cryptic.
Gee, thanks for checking. Can you cover for me?
Oncology seminar. Right.
Friday night the same thing as the car trouble?
I had car trouble.
House says you were lying. I believe him.
What's that? You got a little wet smudge at the end of your nose.
Hey, I like the guy. He says what he wants, does what he wants.
He won't talk to anyone unless he can jerk them around.
Or needs a thousand bucks. What is with that?
I scored.
It's a brave new world, Doc,
and we are the cutting edge.
You are looking at two all-access passes...
to paradise itself.
How much? True cost? No man can say.
Could that man's accountant say?
One thousand dollars. Whew.
Friday night. The biggest official monster truck jam in the history of New Jersey.
Okay, please tell me you didn't just say Friday night.
Whatever you've got, you cancel.
I can't do it. They only give these tickets to owners.
Anytime we wanna be in the middle of the track, we're in the middle of the track.
These tickets are so good, we have to sign a release.
I mean it. We do this, we could die.
I've got the oncology thing. I-- I--
The rectal cancer lecture-- they booked me a year ago. I-I-I-I-I can't get out.
There's no way out.
Fine. I'll ask one of my other friends.
Huh.
What? You're saying I've only got one friend?
Uh... and wh-who--
Kevin in Bookkeeping.
Okay, well, first of all, his name's Carl.
I call him Kevin.
It's his secret friendship club name.
It's hookers. Oh, my God!
Multiple hookers. But House is House. He's gotta have it his way. Four or five women.
This isn't even funny. What? You don't think he has sex?
- No, ofcourse he-- - He doesn't have sex, he makes love.
I didn't say that.
It's the lab.
Dr. Foreman.
Respiratory Therapy, call 4702.
Respiratory Therapy, pick up 4702.
If you have the results, I'd like you to talk to both of us. If you don't, I'm late for a meeting.
Believe me. I'd much rather be with your better half.
And by better half, I mean the one who struck out Sammy Sosa on three pitches...
and talks a lot less.
But I thought I would talk to you first and alone.
I got your results back from the lab.
You do match.
I-- I do?
You're also pregnant.
You can't be a donor.
Not in your current condition.
Um... excuse me.
I have to go talk to my husband.
Heart looks good. We can schedule the transplant.
No transplant.
Lola's not gonna have an abortion.
Actually, your wife just told me that she was making an appointment.
I don't care what she said.
I think you two need to discuss this further.
We've been trying to get pregnant almost since we met.
Well, it's your wife's decision whether or not--
She wants to trade a child for a kidney. That's murder.
I'm not gonna let her do that.
Foreman says we've got a problem about the transplant.
If she terminates the pregnancy, he's not gonna let himself die on principle.
Would you give up a baby for someone you love?
Please tell me I don't have to decide.
It depends. How long would they live?
This is a pragmatic question for you?
Fifty years, no problem.
Six months, I say let him die.
I've actually given this a lot of thought. My personal tipping point is seven years, eight months and 14 days.
I couldn't do it.
You found religion?
- Do you have to be religious to believe a fetus is a life? - There seems to be a correlation.
I'm, uh--
Do you like monster trucks?
- I don't know what they are. - Right.
I got two tickets. Friday night.
- You asking me to go with you? - Sure. Sounds good.
Like a date?
Exactly.
Except for the-- the date part.
Forget it.
Uh, no, I-- I was gonna go to the oncology dinner.
Ofcourse. You have to hear Wilson's lecture.
No. I just found out he canceled, like, two weeks ago.
So... what do I wear?
Still with us, Hank? Yeah. I'm here.
My chest feels funny.
Tachycardia. Your heart's beating too fast.
We're sorting it out. But you stay with us, all right?
- Keep talking to us, Hank! - Where's Lola?
Ten units of insulin sub-Q, an I.V. push D-50.
- Why's his potassium up? - Damned if I know.
Kayexalate too. We gotta suck that potassium out of him. We gotta get his heart rate down.
- We need a crash cart! - You got it.
- It's definitely not Addison's. - It's not steroids either.
Set. Help in here, please!
His heart rate is 130 and rising like a Randy Johnson line drives.
"A" for effort. There's no point in doing the transplant.
Even if he was stable enough, it's obvious that we have no idea what's wrong with him.
First it's too high. Now it's too low?
His heart's not responding to the atropine.
Heart rate's down to 40. I thought it was up.
Now it's down. Last time he went out at 35.
- What's wrong? - I have no idea.
Hit him with the atropine before he gets to 35 again.
We've already given him three milliliters.
Apparently that's not enough.
We can't stabilize his heart rate.
What did you do to him? Kayexalate.
His pulse was through the roof. So was his potassium.
- It wouldn't do this. - Something did.
Call me when he's stable. Or dead.
I remember the first time.
You weren't even supposed to be pitching that day.
I'd flown all the way to Tokyo to watch this kid,
and he gets tossed for arguing a call in the first inning.
Ah, your pitches-- perfect.
Ball seemed to go faster than your arm.
It was like the rules didn't apply, like physics couldn't slow you down.
Hot damn, it was beautiful.
Hey, Warner.
Hey, kid. How ya feelin'?
I hurt.
My arm, my head, everywhere.
They must've dialed down the morphine.
That's just wrong, man. You're in pain.
Hey, I got somethin' for ya.
No.
A doc in St. Louis gave 'em to me for migraine.
I'm an addict. I can't take that. Even Lola was okay with the morphine.
This stuff's just a little stronger.
Come on.
I'll just try one, Warner.
Dr. Mulvaney, please call extension 6134.
Three more symptoms.
Heart rate up. Heart rate down.
Now he's hallucinating. You gotta promise not to tell Lola.
Okay, coach? He's not just dreaming?
No R.E.M. He's actually awake.
Drugs? Not psychedelics.
Not with the heart symptoms.
Well, hallucinations would point to digitalis. It would also mess up his heart.
But he's not on it.
And why would he take it?
Yeah.
Pithy analysis.
I can see why they asked you to speak at the cancer dinner.
I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it.
I'm sorry about the monster trucks.
No, I think it's great. You're giving back.
Only thing is...
uh, digitalis,
it would only explain the later symptoms,
not the original ones.
Sure, you know, it's got a lot of movement.
Problem is, everybody sees the movement.
You're throwin' your curveball like you're-- you're throwin' a curveball.
Deception. That's the--
Same motion.
Less movement, but it won't come back at you.
All right, outfielders move in! Right there!
How'd you get in here?
Spoke Spanish. Told them I was the new shortstop from the Dominican.
How's Hank doin'? Lousy.
Around your fingernails, that swelling, it's called clubbing.
Hippocrates noticed that a lot of his friends who also had that...
tended to frequently grab their chests and die.
Yeah, I got a heart condition. What's wrong with Hank?
What do you take for it? Digitalis.
Got 'em with you?
Huh. Well, that's weird.
I just filled this prescription a couple days ago. There's another bottle here.
Don't bother.
Hank Wiggen stole your pills.
He tried to kill himself.
So what happened?
He left the bottle open while he went to get some water?
Next time, just take the whole bottle.
Hey, man, you got no right.
See, people remember how many they've got.
Date's right on the label, number of pills-- regular person can do the math.
But a junkie doesn't have to, because how many pills he's got left, that's all he's thinking about.
Big insurance policy?
- This isn't about the money. - Not for you, no.
Most reputable stores won't cash your checks after you're dead.
But for Lola, well, girls like that, they're all about the money.
Don't you say that.
She already saved my life.
I was dead in Japan. She brought me back. Everything since then, that's gravy.
That's more than I deserve.
You owe her? Everything.
Ah. So the attempted suicide,
the scaring her to death-- what is that? That's gratitude?
Love?
Yeah, I get that.
Well, take out what you did to yourself yesterday-- we're back to the kidneys and the bones.
I'm scheduling the transplant.
Never visit a patient.
I want that baby!
Even if I'm gone, that's a piece of me and Lola...
breathing, walking around town,
goin' to baseball games.
If there's any more transplant talk from you, Lola, or anybody else,
I won't screw it up this time.
I'll take myself out for good.
I'll start treating the Addison's, which will most likely destroy what's left of your kidneys.
Fine. Start the treatment.
Hey.
What-- Hank Wiggen peed on me.
What do you think these pants are worth on eBay?
I've got some big boy diapers in my office. The rep hands 'em out like candy.
Is it that bad? No, not if you like the smell of urine.
Ofcourse, why should I trust someone who lies about what he's doing Friday night?
Question is, what are you really doing Friday night?
Or more to the point, what could possibly be better than monster trucks?
Or are we breaking up?
Stacy's coming into town this weekend.
We're having dinner.
Just catching up.
I definitely had pants here.
Wait a second. Is that Stacy the stripper?
I heard she's playing Atlantic City.
No, Stacy the constitutional lawyer.
You thought I couldn't handle this news.
You talk to her a lot?
No, it's been a long time.
- If you don't want me to see her-- - What is this, eighth grade? I'm fine.
It's fine if you're upset.
No, it's--
I have no right to be upset.
You two were friends.
You should see her.
Say hi for me.
So, you're okay?
I'm not the cancer doctor who's lying about the cancer dinner.
I'm not the one betraying all those poor little bald-headed dying kids.
I'm gonna go get some pants. I stink.
You're treating him for Addison's and you don't think it's gonna work?
He tried to kill himself. I know.
He's confused. We can have another baby. I can make him understand that.
I'm having an abortion. We do the transplant-- No.
I can make decisions about my body.
And he can make decisions about his. He doesn't want your kidney.
So he'll die?
Probably.
If you keep that appointment, he'll also probably die.
Keep the baby.
Are you just being polite?
My pants are--
Oh, they're all wet.
You can't smell that?
You think she'll abort anyway, try to force his hand?
No, she's not gonna risk losing him.
That's funny?
No, the monster trucks. House asking you, that's-- that's funny.
I was the first person he ran into. He just asked me.
Yeah, like a date.
Exactly. Except for the date part.
If the patient decides to go the dialysis route, we've got some product you should check out.
Mmm. Hey, Dr. Foreman.
Courtesy of the generous Sharon and the good folks at Castine Pharmaceuticals.
I was just telling the guys about the Bermuda conference in April.
Three days of sun and scuba, and one hour of lecture.
Oh, God, do we have to go to the lecture?
So, you're the new Arnie.
Dr. House. It's good to see you.
Would you get me a coffee? Black, no sugar.
Okay, so who is it?
Come on. She's sleeping with one of you.
Oh, God, please tell me it's you.
She buys lunches. She doesn't--
Don't worry. You're not gay. You're adventurous.
You think she's gonna prostitute herself? The three of us are that important to her?
I'm afraid not, no.
The groupies sleep with the roadies in order to get to Mick.
And you're Mick? That was the metaphor I was making, yes.
Why are you here?
Damn, it's you.
It's not Addison's. New symptom. Inability to smell.
I was just in Hank's room.
He said it smelled like the men's room at Veteran's Stadium. He was right.
We rejected environmental causes because the wife was healthy.
Well, she's not. Last six months, she can't smell a thing.
If you think of them as one single patient, you add her symptoms to his--
Cadmium poisoning.
It explains everything. Even why they had so much trouble getting pregnant.
How could they have gotten exposed to that much cadmium?
Unless they were eating steel and batteries for breakfast.
So, where else is cadmium? Some foods, polluted groundwater.
We should check their home. I think I know how it happened.
I'm gonna need another urine sample.
What for? Sure.
Whatever you want.
Why wouldn't you give it to me before, but now it's no problem?
- I'm dyin', right? - So you've got nothing to lose this time.
Begs the question, what were you worried about last time?
The funny thing is, when we tested you before, we were just looking for steroids.
What should we look for now, Hank?
Hank, what's the story?
A little weed every now and then when no one was looking?
I don't believe this.
- We quit. - You did.
If you'd kept going, you wouldn't have just lost your sense of smell.
I quit the hard stuff.
- I just needed to relax. - Based on the symptoms, you're a lot more than a social user.
So you've been lying to me all this time? I'm sorry.
There must have been cadmium in the soil where the marijuana was grown.
Some people get bone loss, kidney failure, some people's testes shrink,
and some people lose their sense of smell.
We'll start treatment right away.
You should be fine by opening day.
Baseball's in the summer, right?
It didn't hurt the baby, did it? The cadmium?
- If you've been clean, the baby should be fine. - Okay.
Please. I'll stop everything. I'll-- I'll go to meetings every day.
Lola.
Twice a day.
How's the ballplayer doing?
Much better. Too bad about his career.
What do you mean?
Major League Baseball's collective bargaining agreement...
requires medical reports on all treatment.
Given Hank's history, he's not likely to get much leniency.
Why should they care that he's being treated for Addison's?
You're not treating him for Addison's. My report says I am.
You're lying on the report?
Well, everybody does stupid things.
It shouldn't cost them everything they want in life.
No, it shouldn't, but it usually does.
On the other hand, if it means someone can actually beat the Yankees--
So what about House? Is there any way we can get him down there?
You really wanna talk about work?
No. Not at all.
That was amazing!
I'm telling you. Grave Digger never disappoints.
You ever been married?
Well, now, let's not ruin a lovely night out by getting personal.
I lived with someone for a while.
You gonna finish that?
I'll race you to the car.
Ripped by phaelox for divxstation.com