Carly: You’re Dr. House. I found a picture of you online at a conference -
House: You need a heart transplant.
Carly: I run, I work out, I -
House: You cut yourself. Probably highly ritualized. You play the same Sarah MacLaughlin song over and over while you do it, probably works better than anti-depressants.
Carly: I don’t understand how that has to –
House: You’re a high-powered bulimic. You make yourself throw up. You have to find the most efficient way to vomit without revealing the tell-tale signs of bulimia, which is all, eugh. Very unseemly, for a CEO. So, you found a common antidote for accidental poisoning to do the job: ipecac. Which is great, if your kid’s just swallowed a bottle of aspirin, but really, really bad if it’s a habit. It causes muscle damage. It caused the pain in your leg. And it destroyed your heart. How often do you do it?
Carly: Three times a week.
House: In about an hour, there’s going to be an emergency meeting of the transplant committee to discuss where you fall on the list should a new heart become available. Problem is, I am required to tell the committee of your bulimia, it’s a major psychiatric condition. Ranks right up there with suicidal, makes you a very bad risk.
Carly: So you’re here to tell me I have just a few hours to live?
House: Unless I lie to the committee. But if they find out, I lose my medical license. This would be a very good time to offer me a bribe. How much is your life worth, how much is my job worth –
Carly: Why are you here doing this to me? What do you want?
House: I want to know what’s right.
Carly: Am I worth it? You think I’m pathetic. Has a good job, everything in the world, but she just doesn’t like the way that she looks –
House: Oh, stop hiding! [Carly looks taken aback at his yelling.] I’m asking you if you want to live or die, you can’t even say that!
Carly: What do you want me to do? Cry?
House: Yes! I want you to tell me that your life is important to you, because I don’t know! [pause] Because that’s what’s on the table right now: your life. [He turns to leave; Carly grabs his arm.]
Carly: [crying] I don’t want to die. I don’t.
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