You were sick so obviously you were placed in the hospital. However, you were really sick, you didn’t exactly want to deal with the sickness so you signed a DNR- which means, do not resuscitate. When you were going into a shock, not breathing, the other doctors stood around because you signed the document, they couldn’t legally do anything. That was, until, House came in, shoved a tube down your throat and set that one off. And all the sudden, wow, he was given a restraining order, no more than 50 feet close to you for going against it. That was eventually up lifted, however.

You laid in the hospital bed, weak from the illness- whatever illness it was. It didn’t matter what it was, all you knew was that it hurt.

When you were left alone, House gazed at your room from across the hall, setting his red cup down as he made his way over. He shut the door behind him as you told him to get out. You wanted the plug pulled, not a doctor to give you a sob story about how your family would miss you. It was your choice either way, you were above the legal age- or, you family signed the DNR because, like said, your choice here.

”sure, it makes sense. You hate me for saving your life. In fairness to your side, it was my fault you were dying, so.” House crossed the room to the front of your hospital bed. The medication you were given was by him and you were reacting terribly to it.

“You knew I didn’t wanna be saved.” You muttered, shifting slightly with a small wince of pain.

House leaned slightly on his cane- for his leg injury, “what’s interesting, your thyroid was low, but not enough to cause depression.”

“Okay, life sucks. Your life sucks more than most. Not saying worse than everyone and that in itself sucks but do me a favor. Let me figure out what’s wrong with you. And if you still want to kill yourself, I’ll give you a hand. Does that seem fair?” House offered, popping a Vicodin into his mouth- he was a crippled, constantly in pain.