Share thisAnother uneventful day. Pain levels were moderate—about 6. Still no case. Cuddy wore that low-cut, red sweater of hers, the clingy one. Didn’t get a chance to comment on it before she shipped me off to the clinic. Such is the price of having no patient. No interesting morons today, just the usual cold and flu crew.
-H
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Pain levels average 7 today. Wilson was supposed to come over for pizza and beer later tonight we were going to watch that new Hopkins show and laugh at their stupidity and inaccuracy, but he stopped by before he left work and said he couldn’t make it. He has a new girlfriend he doesn’t want me to know about it. Must remember to look through his office tomorrow. Maybe I can get a hold of his phone records. Still no case.
-H
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Wilson came in late today. Cuddy asked me about it when she came to deliver a new case. Obviously neurologically related, but I’m desperate for anything at this point. I had come in a bit earlier than usual because I couldn’t sleep leg pain finally caught up with me. But still, that’s pretty bad for Saint Jimmy. I grilled him about it later, but he refused to answer it, and then threw me out because he had almost missed an appointment with one of those cancer kiddies. I didn’t get a chance to search his office today. He must know I’m on to him since he locked both his doors when he left. He hardly ever does that, and it’s never a good sign when he does. Very suspicious. I need to keep a close eye on him. Pain levels 6.
-H
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Pain levels 7—must be stress related. Foreman said it’s not neurological after we did an MRI. Went down to the ER and asked Cameron. She thinks it could be an opportunistic infection. I’m not convinced. At home now waiting for Taub to call with the AIDS test results. It’s not Kaposi’s. I already double checked with Wilson on the cancer front. As for Wonder Boy, I didn’t find much hen I searched his office this afternoon when I was supposed to be in the clinic. I had Kutner page him for an urgent consult so he didn’t have time to lock up. I did, however, find a date circled in his appointment book along with a time and restaurant. If I question him outright, he’ll deny it and claim he’s meeting a patient for dinner. Yeah, right. Oh, well. I guess I have no choice but to “coincidentally” show up to eat at the same place. Notes to self: diagnose crazy broad, surprise Wilson on his date, and prepare a list of suggestive comments to make next time Cuddy wears that black sequin skirt.
-H
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