Chapter 912 - 911: House: "Leave it to me!"

Medical Center

After listening to Pam, Karen's younger sister (practically her mini-me), on the phone, Adam's furrowed brow softened a bit. He paused thoughtfully and said, "Tell his dad to bring him over. I'll take a look first."

"Great, we'll head over right away!"

Pam was thrilled.

That evening, Adam met them in person.

Pam really lived up to being Karen's "mini-me" sister—they looked identical. The only difference was her figure. Pam was a bit… well, overly curvy. Unlike Karen, who stayed in shape with regular workouts alongside Juno and had a graceful figure, Pam came off as a little plump.

But honestly, that was good news. It meant she wasn't some hardcore addict like Ouyang Feng, the "Western Poison." It also showed she was genuinely trying to kick her habits. Otherwise, Adam would've been staring at a skeletal Pam with rotting teeth—not this slightly chubby version who just didn't know how to manage her weight.

If her addiction had gotten worse, even her identical looks with Karen would've started to fade. She'd go from stunningly beautiful to something barely human, almost ghostly. At that point, Adam would've spotted right away that she was "beyond saving." He'd either ignore her completely or, well, go full "Dawei Tianlong" on her (if you catch my drift).

"Adam!"

Pam, acting as the go-between, introduced everyone. "This is my boyfriend, Keith, and this is his dad, Mr. Foster."

"Keith, Mr. Foster, this is Dr. Adam Duncan, my sister's good friend."

"Hi, Dr. Duncan," Mr. Foster said, extending his hand with a hopeful look.

"Can I see the medical records?" Adam cut straight to the chase.

"They're all here."

Mr. Foster handed over a thick stack of files. "Three weeks ago, they were out racing cars. Keith started bleeding, and then they crashed. We've been in and out of hospitals ever since, but no doctor's been able to figure out what's wrong."

Pam lowered her head, avoiding Mr. Foster's gaze. She'd been obsessed with the Porsche he'd bought for his late wife. Three weeks ago, while he was out, she'd convinced Keith to snag the keys so she could take it for a spin.

Driving that beauty felt amazing—until Keith, sitting in the passenger seat, started gushing blood. Panicked, Pam lost focus, drifted under a semi-truck, and got T-boned by another car.

Miraculously, they both walked away mostly unscathed. But Keith's condition? No doctor could pin it down, let alone treat it. Three weeks of hospital hopping had left them on the verge of giving up.

Then Pam remembered Adam and suggested they turn to him for help. Mr. Foster did some digging and wasn't totally sold on a surgeon like Adam handling this, but Adam's reputation swayed him. So here they were, transferring Keith to his care.

"Hemolytic anemia?" Adam said, surprised as he flipped through the records. "A 16-year-old with this? That's insanely rare."

"You think it's a misdiagnosis?" Mr. Foster asked, staring at him eagerly.

"Not sure," Adam replied, shaking his head. "But how about we run a full workup? Same tests, different hands—sometimes that catches mistakes the staff might've missed."

"Of course," Mr. Foster nodded, totally on board.

"Adam, can you cure Keith?" Pam asked, clutching her boyfriend's hand, voicing the question on all their minds.

"I don't know," Adam said honestly, looking at the three of them. "This is a tricky case. If I can't figure out the cause after the tests, I'd suggest you see Dr. House next door."

"Dr. House?" Mr. Foster's face darkened. "I've heard he's a jerk."

Clearly, he'd done his homework for his son's sake. He wasn't keen on House unless it was a last resort—and even then, not just anyone could get in to see him.

"He's also a brilliant, legendary jerk," Adam added. "He's cracked tons of mystery cases and cured them when no one else could. Sometimes, he's the only one who can."

"Can you get us in with this Dr. House?" Pam asked urgently.

"Sure," Adam said with a smile. "He picks patients based on his mood, but I think he'd do me a favor. Plus, Keith's case fits his criteria."

"Let's not rush to transfer just yet," Mr. Foster cut in, frowning. "Let Dr. Duncan take a crack at it first."

He was no stranger to hospitals—his wife's cancer battle had taught him a thing or two about doctors and their mindsets. He'd caught Adam's drift: House wasn't necessarily the best in the world, but he had the guts to take risks others wouldn't, unafraid of lawsuits, using bold methods to diagnose and treat.

That was a last-ditch move. As a father, Mr. Foster wasn't ready to go there until every other option was exhausted.

"Dr. Duncan, go all out. I won't sue you," he pleaded.

"I'll do my best," Adam said with a noncommittal nod.

Sure, that's what they all say. But if Adam pulled a House and started throwing aggressive treatments at Keith—guessing at causes and ruling them out with meds, no solid evidence to back it up—what then? If the drugs worsened Keith's condition or caused irreversible damage, even if he survived, his quality of life could tank. Would Mr. Foster's "no lawsuits" promise hold up then? Big question mark.

So, even though Adam's medical knowledge might outstrip House's, and he could probably brainstorm the same ideas, he didn't have House's edge with rare cases. No hands-on experience, no bragging rights. Adam wasn't about to risk a lawsuit over Karen's sister's boyfriend. Why bother when House was right there?

After a thorough round of tests:

"Elevated indirect bilirubin, low haptoglobin levels, and it's not genetic…" Adam delivered his verdict. "If we don't find what's causing his red blood cells to break down soon, Keith could die within days."

"Oh my God!" Pam burst into tears.

"Dr. Duncan, there's nothing you can do?" Mr. Foster's eyes reddened.

"Sorry," Adam shook his head. "I think your best bet is to transfer to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital right now and see Dr. House. I can set it up for you ASAP."

"Alright," Mr. Foster took a deep breath and nodded. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," Adam said, shaking his head as he started dialing House.

"Well, well, well!" House answered, chuckling. "If it isn't our Hand of Adam! A case you can't crack?"

"You taking it or not?" Adam grinned.

"Of course I am," House said in his usual quirky tone. "But only if you owe me one."

"…Not genetic, not meningitis, no artificial heart valves, no drug use…" Adam rattled off his findings. "It's a total mystery. So, take it or leave it."

House went quiet for a sec, wrestling with his itch to solve a puzzle. Finally, he grumbled, "Fine, send him over. But you still owe me!"

(End of Chapter)