After a few minutes of walking alongside House in a glass-walled hospital room, Doctors Foreman and Chase were there, seemingly discussing something amusing as they were smiling and laughing.

When the two doctors noticed House approaching, and consequently me, they lost their cheerful demeanor. Dr. Chase simply put on a professional, serious face, while Foreman furrowed his brow, clearly annoyed by my presence.

"You were right, there's a lot of blockage," Foreman said to House, completely ignoring me.

"I've scheduled him for surgery. They're gonna put a shunt into one of the ventricles to give the cerebrospinal fluid an out," Dr. Chase said, standing upright and speaking as professionally as possible.

"No more pressure, everything goes back to normal," concluded Dr. Foreman calmly.

"He's lucky to have you," House said ironically, addressing the two doctors, "and I wasn't talking to you," he continued, causing the two doctors to be visibly irritated as he turned and walked away.

Feeling uncomfortable in front of the two disgruntled or disappointed doctors, I could only nod in greeting. Dr. Chase returned the gesture, while Dr. Foreman merely furrowed his brow further and seemed to want to say something.

"Come on, kid, we have to deal with the most boring part of my job," House interrupted, already several steps away from where I was.

Grateful for the interruption, I could only nod again. I didn't wait to see if either of the two doctors imitated the gesture. I quickly turned and followed House.

At a brisk pace, I quickly caught up to him. "Why do you do that?" I asked, annoyed.

House raised his eyebrow incredulously, nearly halfway up his forehead. "Do what?" he asked arrogantly, still walking.

"You know what I mean. I think Dr. Foreman already hates me, why do you have to give him more reasons to do so?" I asked, exasperated, trying to make him understand the seriousness of the matter.

House stopped abruptly, furrowing his brow, and turned to face me. "PJ, medicine is not a game," he said very seriously. "We hold people's lives in our hands, with families' pressure constantly on our shoulders, breathing down our necks, hoping we can help their loved ones," he continued, gesturing emphatically. "If you care more about people's feelings than your patient's health, you might overlook important things and, as a result, lose your patient," he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder, still serious.

"I understand that, House, but there's no need to antagonize Dr. Foreman or Chase, even Dr. Cameron, to save the patient," I said, now calmer.

House seemed to ponder for a moment on what I said. "You're right," he said, removing his hand from my shoulder. "Allow me to revise my answer, then," he continued, now with a small smile. "I do it because it's fun. Foreman's face when a kid is right and he's not, it's priceless," he finished with a big sarcastic smile, then turned around to continue walking.

Incredulous at his audacity, I could do nothing but stand still and watch him as he walked away.

"Come on, kid, I'll teach you how to conduct a real medical examination," House said, pulling me out of my thoughts, followed by a muttered remark that I didn't quite catch.

I quickly caught up with him on the other side of the hallway.

"Now, you need to understand that in outpatient clinic work, there are four types of patients," House said, still advancing. "There are those who obviously just have a cold," he said, annoyed, raising one finger. "Then there are those who want drugs from addictions to sexual reasons," he said, raising a second finger. "Then there are the hypochondriacs, they're the most fun. Sometimes you can pretend they have some horrible disease and watch them get scared," he said, raising a third finger before lowering his hand again and continuing to walk.

"You said there were four types of patients," I said, puzzled by his omission.

"Right," House said with fake surprise. "The fourth type is the idiot," he continued sarcastically. "No, scratch that, they're all idiots, but the fourth type is the worst," he continued, as we reached the reception desk of the outpatient clinic.

"Dr. House, here you go," the nurse at the desk said, handing House a folder containing what was likely a patient's records.

"Thanks," House responded, taking the papers without a hint of gratitude. "Dr. House, reporting for duty at three-thirty," he continued after checking the time on his wristwatch. "You can send them in in a few minutes," House instructed the nurse before moving towards one of the examination rooms.

Quietly bidding farewell to the nurse with a friendly smile, which was happily returned, I followed House into the examination room.

"Put this on," House said, handing me a gown with his name embroidered on it. "Don't worry, no one will read that," he continued when he noticed me reading the embroidery.

"Now, I want you to sit and learn how this is done," House said apathetically. "Of course, until I tell you to get up and do something," he continued in a whispered attempt that I could now hear.

A few moments later, the examination room door was knocked on. House, with a look of annoyance on his face, said apathetically, "Come in," allowing the door to open.

The one who opened the door was none other than the nurse who had handed House the documents, and behind her was a blonde woman carrying a baby, thanking the nurse the woman entered the room, the nurse then excused herself and left the room, but not before closing the door behind her.

"Alright, what do we have here?" House said as he read the documents while the woman took a seat.

"This is Madeline, she's 7 months old," the woman said cheerfully while rocking her baby.

"How much formula does she get in a day?" House asked as he filled out a form.

"No formula," the woman said with a big smile, "just mommy's healthy natural breast milk," she continued while playing with a small frog plushie in front of her baby.

"Yummy," House commented sarcastically.

"Her whole face just got swollen like this overnight," the woman said, now more serious.

House nodded in agreement as he continued reading the medical records. "Come here," he indicated for me to approach the baby.

"Check her temperature," House ordered. "Also, her glands," he continued while evaluating me by gently placing my hand on her.

"She doesn't have a fever, and her glands are normal," I replied to House.

"Good," he responded after verifying it for himself. "I can't find her vaccination records," House said, now addressing the mother.

"We're not vaccinating," the woman quickly commented, as if it were an obvious choice.

Seemingly taken aback, House looked at the woman and her daughter with disbelief. Then he turned slightly to me, whispering, "Type four," before sighing with irritation and returning to the little family in front of him.

"You think they don't work?" he asked, forcing himself to avoid making what would likely be an insult.

"I think some multinational pharmaceutical company wants me to think they work, to pad their bottom line," the woman said, causing House and me to share a look of disbelief.

Nodding slowly, House pointed to the toy the woman was holding along with her daughter. "May I?" he asked.

"Sure," the woman agreed to let House take the plushie.

Playing with the plushie in front of the baby, making small frog-like noises, House inspected the toy. "All-natural, no dyes," House said, showing me the plushie. "That's a good business: all-natural children's toys. Those toy companies, they don't arbitrarily mark up their frogs. They don't lie about how much they spend on research and development," he continued, explaining to me while the woman smiled in agreement. "The worst a toy company can be accused of is making a really boring frog," House joked, pretending to make the baby laugh slightly while the mother laughed too.

Playing with the baby again for a few seconds, House pretended to remember something. "You know another really good business?" he asked the woman. "Teeny tiny baby coffins, you can get them in frog green or fire engine red, really," he asserted, still playing with the frog and amusing the baby, but surprising the mother, causing her to lose her smile. "Why is it recommended to breastfeed until six months?" House asked me with seriousness.

"The mother's antibodies protect the baby for the first six months, after that, they don't," I responded without hesitation.

"Correct," said House. "That's why these companies think they can gouge you," House continued, making the frog toy jump. "They believe that you'll spend whatever they ask to keep your kid alive," he said this time looking seriously at the surprised woman. "Want to change things? Prove them wrong. If a few hundred parents like you decide they'd rather let their kid die than cough up 40 bucks for a vaccination, believe me, prices will drop REALLY fast," House concluded, his face adorned with a touch of sarcasm, while still playing with the frog and the baby.

Shocked, the mother couldn't say a word for a moment, presumably thinking about what House had just told her. "Tell me what she has," she said, now more concerned.

"So, what does she have?" House straightened up in his seat and turned to me.

"A cold," I immediately replied.

Nodding, House handed the toy back to the still stunned woman.

Probably writing a prescription, he tore a sheet from his pad and handed it to her mother. "Get her vaccines, give her this medicine, and she'll be fine in a few days," he said apathetically, as the woman got up and left the examination room, thanking him.

"There you have it, the fourth type," House finally said when the door to the examination room closed. "You're lucky; she's a type four, but she was easy to convince," he continued while taking the file and handing it to me. "Take this to the nurse," House finished as he put his feet up on a table and leaned back comfortably.

Leaving the examination room, I approached the desk where Nurse was filling out forms. "Hello, Dr. House asked me to give you this," I said with a friendly smile as I handed her the file.

"Oh, yes, very well, thank you very much," the nurse said as she took the papers and checked them. "You must be Amy's son," she said without turning to look at me.

"Yes, nice to meet you. I'm PJ Duncan," I replied cordially as I extended my hand for a handshake.

Staring at my hand for a few seconds with disbelief, she finally took it and smiled. "It's the first time a person in a lab coat has offered me their hand without feeling forced to do so," she said with a laugh.

The nurse must have noticed my surprise because she continued, "The doctors here treat us like we're extras, just in the background. The worst of all is Dr. House," she said, nodding her head in the direction of House's office.

"I didn't know that. Why would they do that?" I asked, surprised.

"I think it's an ego problem. They study all those years to become doctors, and they think that people in other healthcare roles don't deserve their time," the nurse said calmly, with a sad smile.

"But—" I was about to say when someone else cut my words short by placing a file on the desk.

"Nurse, I want you to schedule an appointment with this patient for tomorrow at this time," ordered a doctor I had never seen before. "Excuse me," he nodded to me and then went into one of the examination rooms.

Without saying anything, the Nurse simply smiled ironically and highlighted the doctor's attitude. "My name is Fryday, but to that doctor, I'm just 'nurse.' I can assure you he can't distinguish between us," Nurse Fryday said, irritated, as she wrote the patient's name in the files.

I was truly surprised. I had never imagined that the type of treatment a nurse received would be so degrading. My mom used to get annoyed with House, but I thougth that doctors in general only treated paramedics that way because they didn't take the time to get to know us. But to treat nurses who worked with them every day like this...

"I'm really sorry you have to go through this treatment, Nurse Fryday. I hope one day they treat you as you deserve," I said sincerely to the nurse. Right now, I couldn't do much to change things.

The nurse, who sadly smiled, handed me another file. "I'm glad you see it that way, PJ. I just hope that after you study medicine for all those years, you'll have the same mindset," Fryday said calmly.

Taking the papers, I nodded. "I will, I promise," I replied assertively.

Returning to the office, I handed over the documents, which House took with annoyance.

A few moments later, the door was knocked again. "Come in," House said, exasperated.

It was Nurse Fryday once more, with a patient behind her, smiling at the nurse, an action she gladly returned before letting the patient enter and closing the door behind her.

"Hello," said the patient, obviously suffering from sinusitis.

"Type one," House said, annoyed in his voice.

The day continued with House receiving patients and having me perform quick exams that he would later verify. Occasionally, I pretended not to know how to perform a certain test, and to my surprise, House explained, not kindly, but patiently.

Certainly, House was right; the vast majority of the patients had a simple cold or some minor ailment that they exaggerated in their minds. In general, time passed quickly. After dismissing the last patient, House took his backpack and stretched a bit.

"Well, it's time to go, kid," he said as he left the office with the file of the last patient in his hand.

Following House out of the office, not forgetting to leave the lab coat where it was hanging when we arrived, we walked to the desk where Nurse Fryday was still filling out forms. "Doctor House, checking out at four-fifty-five," House said as he checked his watch and filled out a record.

From the clinic's entrance, Doctors Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered briskly in our direction.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"There's a problem," Dr. Cameron said quickly.

"Were there complications in the surgery?" House asked as he walked towards the clinic's exit.

"Goodbye, Fryday," I quickly said to the nurse before following House and the three doctors. "Goodbye, PJ," the nurse responded cheerfully.

"Surgery went fine, he's in recovery, but we took a vial of CSF and tested it," Foreman clarified as he handed House some data sheets.

"Really?" Dr. House asked, surprised. "I didn't know you were into older women, Duncan," House teased when I caught up with them.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, annoyed.

"Yeah, Fryday," House continued, emphasizing the name with even more mockery.

"Haha," I said, faking a laugh, "it's called being polite," I said under my breath while I greeted the three doctors beside House, who, unsurprisingly, only two of them responded to amiably.

"It turns out the bowing wasn't the cause of his problems; it was a symptom," Foreman said apathetically in my presence.

"Oligoclonal bands*, and an increase of intrathecal IGG*," Chase explained, pointing to the data sheet.

"Here you go, kid. What diagnosis do you make with this data?" House said, staying still and handing me the sheet.

"Multiple sclerosis*," I said as I reviewed the data.

"Yes," House said, turning to face the three doctors, "the reason it takes three of you to tell me this?" he asked, intrigued.

"Because we're having a disagreement about whether or not it is MS," Cameron clarified.

"No lesions on the MRI," Chase said, dismissing Cameron's argument.

"It's early; he's had the disease for maybe two weeks," Foreman asserted seriously.

"McDonald criteria* requires six months to make a definitive diagnosis," Cameron argued again.

"Oh, who cares about McPherson? I hear he tortured kittens," House said sarcastically, obviously mispronouncing the name on purpose.

"McDonald," Foreman corrected him dryly.

"Oh, McDonald. Wonderful doctor, loved kittens," House said with false cheerfulness.

"The VEP* indicates slowing of the brain," Foreman said, ignoring House's comments.

"Without the lesions, we can't be sure," Cameron argued once more.

"Well, if it is, it's gone from zero to sixty in three weeks, which would indicate rapidly progressive MS," House said seriously, countering Cameron's argument. "Not the fun MS with the balloons and the bike rides for cripples in wheelchairs," he continued sarcastically.

"We should wait until we—" Cameron started to say until House interrupted her, annoyed.

"Start treating him now," House cut her off abruptly. "He can walk for another couple of years, maybe live for another 5," House continued calmly.

Looking at the three doctors in front of him, House again had a serious look on his face and said, "Break it to the family. I'm going home."

Defeated, Dr. Cameron walked in the opposite direction of House.

"Duncan," House said, stopping, "go with whoever goes with," he finished as he continued walking, disappearing around a corner.

Turning to the two remaining doctors, I looked expectantly. "Take the kid," Foreman said with exasperation as he walked away.

"Well," Dr. Chase said, "get ready for one of the hardest parts of being a doctor," he said cryptically as he put his hand on my shoulder.

This is the second time I've heard that phrase today, but now I truly believe that it will be the hardest part of being a doctor.

"If you feel uncomfortable during the conversation, leave the room quietly. If you feel like crying, don't do it in front of the family. Always maintain a serious, professional demeanor," Dr. Chase explained as we walked. "We won't be delivering news of a family member's death, but giving the diagnosis of a terminal illness is practically the same thing. You might feel like you have to say something, but don't. You'll remain silent," Dr. Chase said in the most serious manner I've seen from him.

Reaching one of the hospital rooms, Dr. Chase knocked twice. "Come in," we heard from inside the room.

Dan, the patient, was with his parents, who looked relieved.

"Dr. Chase, hello, come in," the man said cheerfully, allowing the doctor to enter.

As Dr. Chase entered, the family also noticed me in the doorway. "Young man," the man greeted, also allowing me to enter. He must remember me from how easily I was allowed to enter, and not just him because the woman and Dan also noticed me and greeted me cheerfully.

"When can Dan be discharged? He's feeling better," the woman said hopefully from the side of her son.

"I came to talk about that; we found something," Dr. Chase said seriously, causing the family to immediately ignore me, giving their full attention to the doctor.

"What do you mean, you didn't remove the blockage?" the man asked, concerned.

"We did remove any blockage; the surgery was a complete success," Dr. Chase reassured him. "But we did some tests on Dan's cerebrospinal fluid, and what we found isn't good," Dr. Chase continued seriously.

"What is happening?" the desperate woman asked.

"What's happening is that the blockages weren't the cause of Dan's problems; they were just a symptom. We've discovered clear markers for possible multiple sclerosis," Chase explained.

"Multiple sclerosis?" Dan's father asked incredulously, looking at his son, who seemed shocked by the news as he was embraced by his mother.

"It'll take months for a definitive diagnosis," Chase tried to reassure the family.

"What'll happen to me?" Dan finally spoke from his bed.

"Multiple sclerosis is an incredibly variable disease, if it is multiple sclerosis, and we're not 100% sure," Dr. Chase explained without really answering the young man's question.

"What do you think is going to happen?" the father pressed for answers for his son.

"There are some medications to manage the symptoms, but as the disease progresses, the problems will become more severe: bowel and bladder dysfunction, loss of cognitive function, pain," Dr. Chase said, trying to make it clear what could happen.

"Is it going to hurt?" the father asked incredulously and with pain.

"The brain's like a big jumble of wires," he said, trying to make the family understand. "Multiple sclerosis strips them of the insulation, and the nerves die. The brain interprets it as pain, but by starting treatment, we're going to avoid that for as long as possible. We're looking into a couple of specialists, and until we get you squared away, you'll stay here. Okay?" he finished, addressing Dan, who ignored the doctor and stared fixedly at his hands.

"We'll leave you alone," Dr. Chase said as he left the room.

I stayed in the room for a few seconds, long enough to see the family huddled tightly with their son in the middle. I could hear the beginning of painful crying before leaving quietly but silently, closing the door behind me.

"That went better than I expected," Dr. Chase said with relief as he walked. "Some families obviously don't take this kind of news well. They might blame you for their loved one's illness or simply hate you for not being able to treat them," he continued walking. "The best you can hope for is this kind of reaction. You need to make it clear to both the families and the patients that you're doing everything in your power to help them," he finished, smiling at me.

"I know it can be tough seeing families suffering, but you don't have to let that drag you down. We do this job to help the people we can help. I'm not saying you should completely ignore those you can't help; that's not healthy. Just learn to differentiate between the ones you can save and the ones you can't," Chase said, putting his hand on my shoulder. After noticing a conflicted expression on my face, his smile faded.

"If you need to talk about this with someone, you can talk to me or even Cameron. I doubt Foreman will offer any advice, but you can always try," he continued, removing his hand from my shoulder. His expression changed from calm to alarmed, as if he had remembered something. "I don't think I need to tell you this, but don't try to discuss it with House. It's not worth wasting your breath trying to talk to him about this," he finished, turning to walk again.

In my past life, I had witnessed many people's deaths. Sometimes we didn't arrive quickly enough to do anything, or a patient died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Whenever family members were present, my partner would take the lead in dealing with them. It was never my responsibility, but I still witnessed it. Delivering bad news was a completely different feeling, much rawer, much more difficult.

Watching someone grieve a loss is terrible, but taking away hope is even worse.

Unconsciously, I continued to follow Dr. Chase down to House's office, where Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman were present.

I entered quietly, ignoring the calm conversation among the three doctors, to gather my things. When I had what I needed, I quickly said goodbye to the people present and left without waiting for a response, heading to the reception area where I parted ways with my mom.

As I walked, I couldn't stop thinking about Dan's lack of reaction. He seemed lost in his mind as he stared at his palms. It was terrifying to think that a teenager, no older than me at this moment, had to bear the news that he possibly had an incurable disease, one that would slowly take away his autonomy, his body, his freedom.

"PJ, are you okay?" my mom suddenly snapped me out of my thoughts. Unconsciously, I had reached the reception area.

Wiping away any expression that might have been on my face, I forced a smile and said, "Yes, mom, everything's fine, nothing to worry about."

Mom seemed skeptical for a moment, studying my face with concern and shaking her head slightly. She seemed about to object, but whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Nurse Florence.

"Oh, Doctor Duncan," the older nurse said playfully, winking at me, "I heard from Fryday that you were with Dr. House on his clinic shift. How was that?" she asked cheerfully.

Grateful for the interruption to the awkward moment, I smiled at the opportune nurse. "It was an interesting day. Many patients with colds, a mother who didn't want to vaccinate her baby, overall, I learned a lot today," I quickly replied.

"I'm glad to hear that," she affirmed, nodding slightly. "Well, Amy, see you tomorrow," Dr. Florence said, lightly grabbing my mom's arm after checking the wall clock. "Doctor Duncan," she joked again before heading back the way she came.

"Well, I've packed my things, PJ, so we can go," Mom commented cheerfully, seemingly forgetting our previous interaction.

With her bag in hand, Mom rejoined me, and we left the hospital together. Apparently unsatisfied with the brief summary I gave to Nurse Florence, she began asking me about each patient that House and I had seen during the day. "So, did House allow you to conduct the exams?" she asked excitedly as she started the car.

"Yes, he always reviewed afterward, but I usually started with the examination," I confirmed with a slight smile.

"When you enter medical school, you'll be the only one who has already worked with patients," she said excitedly. "You'll be popular," she added, even more excited than before.

We continued talking about Mom's day, and several minutes later, we arrived home.

"Oh, PJ, get ready because we're having dinner with the Coopers. George was discharged, and Mary invited us for dinner," Mom said as she noticed the Cooper house.

"Sure," I nodded as I got out of the car.

Entering the house, I found Bob watching TV from the living room couch, holding a beer. "PJ," he said excitedly as he quickly got up, "let's go to the garage; I've got something to show you," he continued, moving faster than I'd ever seen him move since I arrived in this life.

Following him through the house to the garage door, which Bob quickly opened, I entered behind him. "I got this at a great price, even though I explained that I had already taken care of the bugs, he wanted to get rid of this," Bob said, showing me a set of gym equipment: barbells, bars, weights, dumbbells, ropes, and even a punching bag were scattered and disorganized in the garage.

"Isn't it great?" Bob asked excitedly, showing me the cluttered tools.

"Yes, it's great, Dad," I said, leaving my backpack to the side. "We should organize it," I continued as I approached to start moving the equipment.

"Yeah, I was waiting to see how you wanted to arrange it. After all, it's primarily yours," Bob said proudly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I could only say, "Thanks," to start organizing with Bob.

After organizing all the equipment and hanging the punching bag from the garage ceiling, Bob had a proud look on his face as he pulled me into a one-armed hug, admiring our makeshift home gym.

"After dinner, we'll work out. If Gabe wants to join us, he can," Bob said proudly.

"We're having dinner with the Coopers tonight; Mr. Cooper was discharged today," I informed Bob.

"Ah, all right. If we don't make it tonight, we can start tomorrow after dinner," he said cheerfully, shaking me under his arm. "Well, great job, son," he said as he let go and walked back into the house.

Following Bob after turning off the garage light and closing the door, I separated from him in the living room and walked to my room.

In the hallway leading to my room, I came face to face with Teddy, who was pleasantly surprised to see me. "PJ, I'm glad you're here. Come," she said, dragging me into her room to her desk.

Taking a seat, Teddy opened her notebook to a math problem. "I can't solve it," she said, making a pitiful face.

Amused by her sudden change in behavior, I crouched down beside her and began to explain.

Teddy was, to say the least, a genius in her own right. I had noticed it during our previous study sessions. She quickly absorbed the explanation of a problem like a sponge, and the next time she encountered a similar one, she could solve it without any trouble. I enjoyed helping her with her homework; it helped me connect with her. Unlike Gabe, I couldn't get Teddy to play football with me, not that I hadn't invited her. So, helping her with homework was the natural way to spend time with my teenage sister.

"I understand now!" she celebrated halfway through my explanation, grabbing the pencil and continuing the problem where I left off.

Surprised by the sudden theft of my pencil, I could only remain static, aside from a weak, resigned laugh. Teddy continued to solve the problem, completely absorbed.

Noticing my presence, Teddy frowned slightly. "I've got it; you can go," she said calmly, indicating for me to leave her room.

Incredulous but amused by her attitude, I couldn't do anything but stand up and, with a weak laugh of resignation, start to leave her room.

"PJ," Teddy suddenly said when I reached her door. "Yes?" I asked, turning my body, hoping she still needed my help with something.

"Close the door when you leave," she said without turning, still focused on her task.

Defeated, I left her room, making sure to close the door behind me, and continued on my way to my room.

My room was completely silent, which wasn't surprising since Gabe usually read his comics silently if he wasn't playing with his toys. Slowly opening the door, I found a very sweaty Gabe asleep in an uncomfortable position.

Amused again by what was in front of me, I couldn't help but laugh silently. Leaving my backpack on my desk, I picked up the books and notebooks I needed to do my homework.

A few minutes after I started, Gabe suddenly woke up.

"Hey buddy, good morning," I greeted him.

Still disoriented, Gabe didn't respond immediately. With his eyes closed and a red mark on his face from his strange sleeping position, he slowly stretched his limbs, making slight noises of effort.

"Hi PJ, when did you get here?" he asked when he finally noticed my presence after stretching for a moment.

"A few minutes ago, little guy," I replied with a smile.

Without saying anything, just nodding, Gabe got up from his bed and walked to the exit of our room, lightly knocking on the door as he opened it and walked out as if he were drunk.

Shaking my head with a smile, I continued with my homework, which, thanks to my memories and my dedicated study in this life, was quite easy to do.

When Gabe returned from an obvious trip to the bathroom, more awake than before, my homework was almost done.

"I think I slept since I got back from school; I was really tired," Gabe said, embarrassed, as he picked up a comic book from his bed.

"It's because of the exercise, Gabe. In the beginning, you'll feel like you have less energy, but you'll get used to it," I said calmly as I continued with my homework. "That's why you have to sleep early and eat well, so that the rest of the day after exercising, you'll have enough energy," I finished.

"Did you also get tired at first?" Gabe asked.

Noticing a hint of concern in his voice, I turned my chair to face him. Gabe, from his bed, had a worried look on his face as he stared at me. I remembered what Bob had said: Gabe sees me as a role model.

"Yes, gremlin, at first, I also got tired. If you keep running with me, there will come a time when this will just be a fun memory," I said with a reassuring smile, which seemed to work.

Less worried by what his face revealed, Gabe continued reading his comic book, and I, feeling more at ease after reassuring my brother, continued with my homework.

When I finished my homework, I decided to start reading the book that House had given me. As expected, it was not a more interesting read than Dr. Thomas's book. It was a text on viral infections. Taking notes as I read, I lost track of time.

"PJ, Gabe," I heard Mom call from outside our room, snapping me out of my study trance.

Rubbing my tired eyes a bit, I stretched before getting up.

Gabe seemed intrigued. "Why do you think Mom's calling us?" he asked as he followed me, still groggy, before opening the door.

"We're having dinner with the Coopers. Mr. Cooper came back today," I explained while tousling his hair.

"Okay," he replied without much concern, continuing to read his comic book.

Mom was no longer wearing her nurse's uniform; she was dressed more casually, along with Bob, who was carrying a package of beers.

We all left together, heading to the Cooper's house.

Mom, who quickly led the way, knocked on the Cooper's door, which was immediately opened by Meemaw.

"Ah, it's the Duncans," she exclaimed inside the house, then turned back to us with a smile. "Amy," she said cheerfully, opening her arms, and Mom received the hug with joy.

When Mom let go of Meemaw and entered the house, Bob was next to greet her. He simply smiled and said, "Mrs. Tucker."

Shaking her head, "Oh no, Bob, you too. Call me Connie," Meemaw said, tapping his arm lightly.

"Now that we have here, the youngest Duncans," Meemaw said, approaching my siblings, "is it my imagination or are you even more beautiful than before?" she continued, pulling Teddy into a hug. "And you, look at you, you're very handsome," she went on, pinching Gabe's cheeks.

"Thank you, Mrs. Tucker," Teddy said, embarrassed.

"Oh no, not you either. You're part of the family now. Call me Meemaw, like your brother," Meemaw corrected Teddy cheerfully, addressing Gabe as well. "Well, what are you still doing here? Come in, come in," she said after a moment.

When my family entered the Cooper house, Meemaw and I stayed behind. "Aces," she said, greeting me, losing her friendly smile.

"Hello, Meemaw," I replied, a bit nervous.

Staring at me seriously for a moment, Meemaw finally rolled her eyes in resignation. "All right, I had already forgiven you. After all, my car was in perfect condition," she said as she closed the door.

Getting me to release the air that I didn't know I was holding

"In two weeks, I'm going to Las Vegas, Aces," she said as she stood by the door.

It seemed Meemaw remembered I wanted to place a bet. "I'll tell you how much I'm going to bet next week," I quickly said.

"All right," Meemaw said with resignation. "Well, come on, come on," she continued, guiding me into the house.

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Glossary

CSF* = Cerebrospinal fluid is a clear, colorless, watery fluid that flows in and around your brain and spinal cord.

VEP* = Visual evoked potentials are used to assess the visual conduction pathways through the optic nerves and brain.

McDonald's criteria* = The McDonald's criteria are a set of guidelines used to determine whether or not a person should be considered as having multiple sclerosis, without the need for biopsies.

Oligoclonal bands* = are bands of immunoglobulins that are seen when a patient's blood serum, or cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) is analyzed.

Immunoglobulin G (IGG)* = This is the most common antibody.

Multiple Sclerosis* =is a long-lasting (chronic) disease of the central nervous system

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Author's Thoughts:

As always, I am not American, and certainly not a doctor.

Here ends what would be Chapter 14. As I mentioned before, I had to split the chapter in two.

Another week goes by, and the goal is not reached again :C.

In my notes for this story, I have already decided who the main couple will be. There is still some time before we get there, but if someone manages to guess it, I'll give them a big prize (I won't explain again that there is absolutely no prize). Here are two clues:

1. It is not from a medical, firefighter, or police series/movie.

2. Their series/movie has not been introduced in the story yet.

I think that's it. As always, if you find any errors, please let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thanks for reading :D.