“And you never lie?”
Medicine isn’t a science. It’s a detective story where every witness is guilty of something. And the only innocent one can’t speak — so you have to listen to its silence.” House walks out of the room, pops a Vicodin, and limps toward the cafeteria. Wilson catches him.
“You could have told the husband it wasn’t his fault sooner. Saved him six hours of thinking he was a murderer.”
“He needed to feel like a murderer to understand how close he came. Guilt’s a better teacher than gratitude. Besides — he lied. He knew those supplements were sketchy. He just didn’t want to know.”
“Thirty-seven-year-old woman. Seizures, rash, fever, and a husband who says she’s ‘perfectly healthy except for this.’ Already we know he’s lying. People are only ‘perfectly healthy’ until they aren’t. Question isn’t if she lied — question is what she lied about.”
“Only to patients. And insurance companies. And you. And myself. But never to the body. The body would know.” Want me to turn this into a full short script or a diagnostic puzzle for you to solve?