The feel of Cuddy's hand on his thigh brought House's focus back to where he was and who he was sitting with. The lack of concentration he had bothered him - he wasn't sure if it was the effect of the antidepressants, the way they made him drowsy, or if he was so easily distracted because of his thoughts and the ways being in Mayfield affected him. This hospital was like bedrock - once you hit that place, there was little point in hiding behind problems anymore because every single patient was being forced to faced their issues in one way or another.
He remained peering out the window as Cuddy talked, though he listened and he heard every word she'd said. He reached a hand into his pocket to retrieve the tissue to wipe his nose again. "Of course I want to be there," he said, looking down at the tissue as he folded it ready to be used.
He quickly wiped his nose and sniffed, then turned his head to Cuddy. "Just not sure if you want me there. I mean, I'm not exactly..."
He turned to the rest of the room and waved the hand he was clutching the tissue in at his surroundings as if to say, 'I'm not exactly father material'. And he wasn't, either. No child deserved to be brought into the world with a mentally ill dad. He wanted to be there but he doubted his own self-worth to the situation and his own capabilities of being a father. So many changes had already happened, this particular change of making the drastic decision to come to Mayfield being one of the biggest changes of all. Adding a new child into the mix... Well, it was a big and messy subject that he knew his doctor was going to want to get stuck into sooner or later and he wasn't looking forward to it.
He quickly wiped his nose with the tissue and pocketed it again. He couldn't really handle thinking about it right now. Couldn't, not just because it was a topic he had no idea how to broach and deal with, but also because he was just so damn drained and numb. "I want that coffee," he said, changing the subject.
no subject
He remained peering out the window as Cuddy talked, though he listened and he heard every word she'd said. He reached a hand into his pocket to retrieve the tissue to wipe his nose again. "Of course I want to be there," he said, looking down at the tissue as he folded it ready to be used.
He quickly wiped his nose and sniffed, then turned his head to Cuddy. "Just not sure if you want me there. I mean, I'm not exactly..."
He turned to the rest of the room and waved the hand he was clutching the tissue in at his surroundings as if to say, 'I'm not exactly father material'. And he wasn't, either. No child deserved to be brought into the world with a mentally ill dad. He wanted to be there but he doubted his own self-worth to the situation and his own capabilities of being a father. So many changes had already happened, this particular change of making the drastic decision to come to Mayfield being one of the biggest changes of all. Adding a new child into the mix... Well, it was a big and messy subject that he knew his doctor was going to want to get stuck into sooner or later and he wasn't looking forward to it.
He quickly wiped his nose with the tissue and pocketed it again. He couldn't really handle thinking about it right now. Couldn't, not just because it was a topic he had no idea how to broach and deal with, but also because he was just so damn drained and numb. "I want that coffee," he said, changing the subject.