In the politically incorrect alternative ending, Dr. House lies in a hospital bed in a semi-comatose state. Suddenly, during one of his more lucid moments, he reaches to grab his medical chart, making his final diagnosis. Drawing his last breath, he writes it down and dies.
Teary-eyed coworkers gather round in a circle bedside to read what Dr. House wrote.
A coworker (holding the medical chart in hand) reads aloud: “He wrote, ‘My Final Diagnosis: Possible Drug Overdose. But I'm not completely sure. I need your help."
“Wow,” said a coworker. “I’m so ashamed. I thought he had such an ego that he wouldn’t confess he needed us ever. Not even on his deathbed. Playing us like a bunch of fools up to the very end and beyond from the undiscovered country.”
Just then a prescription slip from the medical chart gently glides to the floor like a feather falling from the wing of the Angel of Mercy.
“What is it?” asks a coworker.
“It’s a prescription,” replies the coworker who picks it up and begins to walk toward the exit.
“What’s it for?” asks another coworker.
“Vicodin,” says the coworker continuing to walk to the exit.
“Where are you going?” asks yet another coworker.
“To get it filled, of course,” replies the coworker almost out the door.
“But he’s dead,” one coworker protests.
“Yeah,” says the coworker, pausing before finally exiting. “But House would’ve wanted it this way.”
All the coworkers nod their heads in agreement.
“We’ll prepare an IV for him while you’re gone,” the coworkers say collectively.
Copyright © 2008-2012 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.