I have a thing for charming British men who portray cranky Americans. There. I said it. But a few years ago I had to break up with House.
I really enjoyed the show until nearly two years ago when I experienced my own medical mystery. On a Saturday I developed a headache so bad I couldn't even lift my head and my husband finally realized it wasn't going away and got me to the doctor on Monday morning. They took an x-ray and asked my husband a few questions (I couldn't even answer at this point - I was reduced to incoherent moaning) then I heard my doctor say "I want you to take her to Beaumont emergency, tell them she needs to be tested for...." and then I heard him start listing things that didn't sound very good at all. Things like meningitis. And even though I'd done nothing but moan for 48 hours, my ridiculously overactive imagination immediately took me to a hospital room where I was hooked up to every machine possible while a House-like group of doctors tried test after test only to keep getting it wrong and watching me nearly die and bringing me back miraculously then shaking their heads sadly at my husband and telling him to "prepare himself."
(It was at this point that I grabbed my doctor's arm and told him about the epidural injection I'd received three days earlier which turned out to be the problem and I was "cured" and back in my own bed by that afternoon. Whew.)
I found myself unable to enjoy House after that. I just couldn't watch it. I don't know what made me watch it last night. I was flipping channels and kept running into the final episode from last season and it was just so well-written that I found myself watching despite my discomfort and now I'm pretty sure I'm sucked back in. Plus I loved Cameron's wedding dress. Apparently good writing and a pretty dress can cure anything.
On open letter to the lady in my neighborhood:
6 hours ago