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October 1, 2008

Sorry, Hugh Laurie, But House Hits Too Close to Home These Days

By Cindy Droog

I can’t watch House anymore.

It’s sad really. I used to have a thing for Hugh Laurie, debates about the realistic nature of his accent notwithstanding. In fact, I’d watch the show and wish I could act like him at work. Aloof. Cocky. Frequently engaging in conversations prime for harassment lawsuits.

I can see it now. The vice president questions me on a marketing plan. I retort with a blank stare, and moments later, I ask, “When is the last time you actively engaged in an online social network? Oh, never. Right. So, you’re telling me there is something wrong with my plan?”

I’d walk out of her office, and – just like House knocks things out of Dr. Cuddy’s hands so she has to bend down and pick them up – I’d wander over to the sales department and ask some cutie newbie out for a drink. Of course, he’ll feel obligated because I’m so popular in the office, even though I’m way too old for him.

I’d also love to put the show’s slogan on my business card: “Genius has side effects.” I’m no genius. I’m just looking for a way to defend the quirks I have that come across in meetings. The drawings of people around the table in my notebook. The inadvertent creation of comic strips based on the meeting content, and the little bubble quotes saying things like, “This partnership has become a dictatorship!”

My own work fantasies aside, the reason I can’t watch House anymore is that it’s ceased to be entertaining, and has begun to creep me out.

First, the patient’s problems are starting to hit a little too close to home. A disease that acts like cancer, but isn’t? My dad has the real stuff. We’re right in the throes of fighting it. A baby growing in a part of the body not meant for gestation? Just went through my own somewhat difficult pregnancy and my newborn son was in intensive care. Not for long, but any length of time feels like too long.

Maybe it’s because I do have kids now. What would I do if they had a disease that a doctor like House decided required a partial lobotomy? Or for the only way for my son to survive would be to undergo gender transformation? These are insane thoughts, but I think motherhood does that to you. Add to that my “sandwich generation” status and you’re looking at one highly stressed, why-watch-something-that-will-give-me-more-nightmares kind of gal.

Don’t get me wrong. I still think the show is very well cast. Dr. Wilson is my personal favorite character, as he reminds me of the cubicle-next-door kinda dude we all love working with. Not to mention, I’ve liked Omar Epps since his ER days, which also shows that in general, I am a fan of the medical drama. (Or, I should say, I used to be.)

Maybe when my kids are grown, I’ll be able to beam old episodes down from satellite into the little television screen on my eyeglasses and watch them. But until my real life is hospital-free, I’m not walking into one set up by Fox Broadcasting.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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