Chapter Text
‘Flames’ Cameron said raising an eyebrow as House limped into the DDX room with Wilson beside him.
‘Makes it look like I’m going fast’ House replied raising the new cane.
Black with flames, a design he'd chosen. House wasn't sure if this reminder of the past was a positive one, so far he'd glared at it a few times but had yet to use it.
‘Will you at least try it?’ Wilson had asked standing in front of the couch with his hands on his hips where House was sprawled lengthways with a heat pad draped over his bag leg.
‘No need’ House replied ‘I already know it fits.’
Wilson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I know this is hard for you’ He said using what House referred to as his cancer voice ‘But you know this will make things easier’ Ignoring his partner House increased the TV volume drowning him out.
Change was hard as Wilson had pointed out. Before they were together House had lived in the same apartment, played the same instruments and driven the same car for years. The infarction had changed him, his life unrecognisable from before but some of the changes were good Wilson being the biggest and best. Mayfield was a surprising positive which has led to changes in his pain management, which brought him to where he was now trying and failing to ignore the wheelchair that had sat in the condo unused since it arrived a week ago.
Living with Wilson was great, Macadamia nut pancakes most mornings and lots of sex made up for any disruption from Wilson's hairdryer. There were however downsides, the elevator rarely broke but when it did House was resigned to using the stairs or on bad days being stuck in the condo or having Wilson help him.
On one horrible day after returning from work House was forced to go up the stairs on his ass when the elevator was out of order, his leg refusing to take the strain of climbing the flight of stairs up to their home. Feeling humiliated and resenting his disability with every step as he lifted himself trying not to cause more pain House was exhausted and sweating by the time he reached the top.
Another downside was the condo's size. 221B had been laid out specifically for ease of movement, the furniture was positioned in ways that would give House support wherever he was, and chairs were strategically placed so he could sit when needed.
The open-plan spacious condo did not offer him the same support. Sometimes it felt like the distance between their bedroom and the main room had grown overnight.
Age had also taken its toll on House as it did even on able-bodied people, the typical age-related reduction in muscle mass had increased his legs weakness and decreased his ability to walk unaided, the strain on his other joints from his irregular gait and compensation for his leg as well as the arthritis that had set in meant that a hip replacement was likely to occur in the next few years. House didn’t handle boredom well, he needed to keep his mind occupied as he’d found after leaving Mayfield. Medicine and work stimulated his brain in a way that nothing else did but with his worsening mobility, the hospital was becoming another struggle.
One of the conditions of getting his medical license back after leaving Mayfield was to work with a pain management specialist (something House had initially objected to) as well as continued outpatient sessions with Dr Nolan to reduce the chances of relapse.
The new meds helped, the anti-depressant for neuropathic pain reduced the stabbing sensations and burning pain from the damaged nerves and also improved House's mood, and anti-inflammatories helped with some of the muscular pain. House was also getting intra-articular injections in his hip, knee and shoulder to reduce the pain and swelling from arthritis. He was prescribed morphine for severe breakthrough pain but it was kept locked away and only Wilson had a key, but no matter what medication he took nothing could stop the inevitable process of ageing.
House had used wheelchairs after the infarction and during his bet with Cuddy. On the rare occasions that he had to fly anywhere he used the airport assistance, the walk across the terminals far too much for his leg. House was good at giving the impression that he didn’t care about other people’s opinions of him, the way he dressed and practised medicine combined with his brash personality certainly convinced people that this was true but those closest to him knew that wasn’t entirely accurate.
‘The only way you could come to terms with your disability was to some way make it mean nothing. So you had to redefine everything. You have dismissed anything physical, anything not coldly, calculating intellectual.’
Wilson had once told him, the most annoying thing was that it wasn’t entirely wrong. House had done his best to emotionally detach himself from his disability. A distance such as fifty yards could be measured, medication doses could be measured. But how could you measure loss? There was no measurement for the loss of ability to run or play sports, no measurement for grief or for mourning the person you once were. Wilson could never understand the loss of ability and identity that came with an acquired disability, he knew House was in pain but he could never truly understand that either.
The pain came in different shapes and sizes there were cramping, spasms and general fatigue from overworked muscles along with the referred pain in his left leg, back and shoulder from using the cane. The neuropathic burning and tingling with the sudden feelings of electric shock-like pain that appeared to come from nowhere. Wilson would never understand the permanent background anxiety that came from the weakness and instability of his leg and the fear of falling.
The decision was eventually taken out of his control (not unlike the infarction itself House thought bitterly), two difficult cases back to back and extended hours at the hospital and on his feet had ramped up his pain levels and his leg was making its opinions on the matter clear.
House was awoken at 2 am by the sound of MMMBop He flinched as he rolled over to answer the phone he already knew it was going to be a bad day. His formerly serious but stable patient was now less stable and more critical, House sighed as he pushed himself up rubbing his leg and lifting it over the edge of the bed, pulling on the clothes he'd worn the day before he grabbed his cane and hauled himself up off the bed before landing straight back down again as his leg gave out.
Sitting on the bed frantically rubbing his scar until he’d managed to somewhat ease the muscle and coax it into cooperation, as the pain started to recede he carefully eased himself up again holding his cane tightly and gripping the bed frame, taking a few tentative steps trying to put as little weight on his right leg as possible House slowly limped out of the bedroom.
Limping into the living room it was clear that there was no way he’d make it into the hospital like this let alone walk up to his office or the patient's room. House considered his options, Wilson was stuck with another dying patient and the ducklings couldn’t leave whilst theirs was critical, he and Cuddy were on good terms but he didn’t think she’d appreciate him waking her or Rachel, he couldn’t avoid going back into work when his patient could crash. At the back of his mind, he knew what the solution was no matter how much it terrified him and he tried to avoid thinking about it but logically he knew that the wheelchair was his only option.
As much as he hated to admit it House was afraid. He knew the assumptions people made when they saw him limping through the hospital corridors, the awkward questions from patients, and the second glances as they tried to process what they were seeing. ‘People don’t want a sick doctor’ He’d said to Wilson.
The patient's and their family's approval didn’t concern him, he knew he was the only doctor that could save them it was losing respect he feared, pity, the change in perception if he went from walking to using a wheelchair, he relied on respect from his team and fear from the rest of the staff to get the tests and treatments needed for his patients.
The frustration and anger were almost overwhelming, Nolan had been trying to get House to work on his feelings towards his disability he could tell that House’s leg had been getting worse since being discharged from inpatient treatment though the full extent of the decrease in mobility hadn’t been discussed.
Attempting to haul himself up from the couch he briefly considered and almost instantly dismissed the crutches stashed in a cupboard along with spare canes, knowing logically that his leg was too painful and the muscles too fatigued to hold his foot off the ground and even partial weight baring wouldn't be possible for the amount of walking he'd need to do. Crutches were even more of a hindrance than a cane leaving him with no spare hands when it came to examinations and procedures on patients.
Annoyed at himself for wasting time House approached the wheelchair as if it were going to bite him, He sat down on the padded seat lifted his right leg and set his foot onto the footplate his left following automatically, he placed a folding cane in his backpack hanging it over the back of the chair and wheeled out of the condo.
Getting in and out of the car was less challenging than House had expected, unlike his bet with Cuddy he was somewhat ambulatory and able to put a small amount of weight on his leg while holding tightly onto the roof of the car and his cane for support as he loaded and unloaded the chair. The hospital was thankfully quiet and he wheeled across the lobby past the dark and the quiet clinic over to the elevators. Riding up to the fourth floor House felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach trying to predict the team's reaction and plan his responses for each scenario he came up with.
Arriving at his office he took a deep breath (he was being ridiculous he told himself, it was his office and he was still their boss). The ever-helpful Kutner jumped up as soon as he saw House struggle with the door (he’d have to speak to Cuddy about getting an automatic door button for his office and the conference room) glaring at the team and daring them to say something House approached the table where the ducklings were all sat.
Unsurprisingly Kutner was the first to speak ‘Are you OK?’ concern was written all over his face.
‘Fine’ House replied shortly.
Chase was curious but decided against speaking, Thirteen looked at Chase and then back at House he could tell that she was assessing the situation, this didn't seem like a scheme or a bet the wheelchair was a custom one specifically fitted to House rather than a one size fits all hospital chair.
After running a differential the team were sent to run more tests, House moved towards his office struggling again with the door before admitting defeat and calling over Chase who was being suspiciously slow to follow the others. As his longest-standing fellow, it wasn’t surprising that there would be questions.
Chase had seen the slow deterioration of House's leg and the increased difficulties of moving around the hospital as well as a small but noticeable reduction in House's walking speed. There was an awkward silence as House transferred to his office chair, he was glad that he’d brought a cane so he could pace up and down his office later to prevent his leg from seizing up.
Knowing the way his boss disliked personal chats Chase got straight to the point ‘It’s worse, isn’t it? Your leg, not just the pain but your mobility overall.’
As much as House hated discussing his leg he couldn’t deny it, even someone less perceptive could tell. Rubbing his forehead he forced himself to look directly at Chase rather than at his desk he nodded ‘Yes, it’s been getting worse for a while the pain and strength’ Searching for any signs of pity and finding none House continued ‘It came last week, these two cases pushed things too far could barely make it out of bed after you called.’
Chase simply walked over to the office door and propped it open doing the same with the other doors to make things easier for his boss. ‘I’m sure you’ll bite my head off for this’ Chase told him as he headed towards the door ‘But if there's anything I can help with let me know.’
After getting the test results back and running a further differential with the team House made his way to the patient's room. The team had already started treatment and as he entered preparing to tell the patient the diagnosis House instantly picked up on the change in atmosphere as the patient and their relatives turned to look at him. Before anyone could start speaking House explained the diagnosis and treatment straight away and then left to go back to his office.
Thirteen mentally prepared herself for the imminent questions ‘I'd heard he had a bad leg’ The patient stated ‘But I didn’t realise he was that bad.’
Cringing slightly and praying for the patient's sake that they never repeated this in front of House himself Thirteen smiled and attempted to respond politely ‘Dr. House is the best doctor in this hospital and his disability doesn’t change that’ The patient didn’t look convinced but wisely refrained from further comment.
By the time he returned to his office House was tired, hurting and hungry. The hospital was getting busy with morning rounds on the wards, visitors arriving and the usual colds and STDs filling up the clinic. Despite his growing hunger House couldn't face going down to the cafeteria, too many people, and too many eyes on him. He wasn't ready for that it was enough with the team and the patient seeing him use the wheelchair without the rest of the hospital seeing (though he knew once the hospital grapevine found out there would be no containing the spread of gossip).
Settling into his Eames chair he sent a quick text to Wilson summoning his partner to his office leaning back in his chair and massaging his leg.
Entering the office a few minutes later holding up his phone ‘You requested the pleasure of my company’ Wilson stated.
‘I'm hungry’ House responded tiredly his right hand still lightly massaging his thigh ‘I figured you might want to buy me breakfast.’
Looking at his partner Wilson could see the fatigue dragging House down, his leg was hurting too but there was something else going on that he wasn't sure about. Looking past House he noticed the wheelchair parked next to the lounge chair. Understanding why House would want to avoid the busy cafeteria Wilson took out his wallet 'If you can lower yourself to eating hospital food I'll see what I can get.'
Returning with food for them both Wilson closed the office door as well as the door connecting to the conference room, he could open them again later if needed so House could come and go more easily. Setting down the food and grabbing a chair from the desk he tentatively started talking ‘So you used the chair.’
House nodded 'Back-to-back cases, too much time on the leg' Sighing and rubbing his forehead he continued 'I couldn't avoid it forever, wouldn't have got the damn thing if I could.'
Wilson knew this was a big thing for House, he’d been there after the infarction when Stacy left and seen House struggle to regain his mobility, seeing him now with his slowly worsening leg was hard but he knew it was harder for House.
After sending the ducklings home House unfolded the cane from his bag and started taking a few tentative laps of his office glad that there was no one around to see if he fell. The pain was higher than baseline but he grudgingly admitted to himself that it was less than if he'd been walking.
After working some of the stiffness out of his leg he gathered his things and started leaving.
Barging into Wilson’s office was slightly more difficult than usual (he didn’t think Cuddy would agree to an automatic door button for Wilson’s office just so he could annoy his boyfriend).
‘I’m going home’ he announced completely ignoring the patient sitting at the desk ‘See you at home, if you’re a good boy I’ll let you give me a massage’ Wheeling himself quickly to the elevator House laughed as he heard Wilson shout his name and hoped he’d be hearing him shout it again later in very different circumstances.
Making his way through reception and hoping to avoid nurse Brenda (as well as clinic duty) House was almost at the hospital entrance when Cuddy called him. Knowing he couldn’t avoid her House stopped and turned around, she looked concerned and was doing her best to cover the expression with frustration.
‘I expected you in the clinic fifteen minutes ago’ She explained crossing her arms over her chest (much to House's disappointment).
‘Cuddy I've been here since 3 am I'm going home' House replied, he didn't have the energy for a witty or sarcastic response.
Looking down at House her expression softened, his lack of commitment to the clinic frustrated her but she knew he’d had two difficult cases. ‘Fine but you can make it up later’ House tried to suppress a grin they both knew she was fighting a losing battle.
Ever the administrator Cuddy switched to practical matters 'Are there any changes you need? Anything that will make it easier for you here' She knew that talking about personal issues was hard for House especially when it came to his leg. 'And before you ask no I don't mean cancelling clinic duty.'
The day had been long and House was hitting the limit on the topic of his disability ‘Do we have to do this now?’ He asked.
Seeing his discomfort Cuddy shook her head ‘I'll set up an appointment in a few days, get some rest House.’
Gratefully he made his way out to the parking lot, the thought of a hot bath and a massage from Wilson giving him the energy he needed to make his way home.