Diagnosing Dr. Wilson

    Leech.  Before images of slimy annelida come to mind, know this: the blood-sucking invertebrate shares its name with the seventeenth-century term for “doctor.”  Gregory House is a leech.

    What they don’t tell you about leeches is that the parasites are not entirely parasitical.  Leeches and their hosts often maintain a symbiotic relationship–“I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.”  Sure, a leech might suck your blood, but with it comes the infection therein.

    James Wilson is Gregory House’s host.  House takes everything from his only friend: he takes Wilson’s money, Wilson’s time, Wilson’s hospitality, and often, Wilson’s dignity.  On several occasions, House has almost taken Wilson’s job.  House has literally sucked the life out of Wilson.  Yet the Head of Oncology keeps coming back for more.  He continues to put his morality on the line for House; he continues to give House the benefit of the doubt.  But why?  Why does a man who has been slighted so many times by his supposed “best friend” raise his hand in opposition to Vogler’s proposal of House’s dismissal?  Why does he continue to loan thousands of dollars to House with no promise–nor hope–for repayment?  Why does Wilson refuse to testify against the man when he knows the indictment is not only true, but could, in the long run, benefit him?

    Because Wilson, just like any sane-minded, symbiotic host, needs something back.  But it’s not tangible like the car House borrowed to appease a dying man, or the prescriptions he stole, the signatures he forged.  It’s something more personal to Wilson; it’s his tragic flaw, and it is the too-obvious first step to understanding Wilson as a character. 

    Wilson needs to be needed.  He’s pathetic.  The most prominent evidence of this is his profession.  For those unfamiliar with Oncological medicine, the outlook for most patients is not good.  If you’ve ever watched someone die a slow, agonizing death at the hands of any cancer, you probably understand.  Even surviving cancer takes a toll on more people than you could ever imagine–from the survivor himself, who must endure seemingly endless bouts of radiation that make him ugly and sallow, and result in near-constant vomiting and fatigue, to the family, living from day to day, paycheck to paycheck, to the friends, the employers, the cleaning lady and the mailman, the neighbors, the pets, who all suffer in their own way.  Most people are lucky not to deal with this nightmare more than once in their lives; Dr. Wilson deals with it every day.  James Evan Wilson could have been any type of doctor he wanted.  Why Oncology?

    Wilson chose Oncology because he wanted it.  No, needed it.  Wilson, for various possible perverse reasons we shall delve into later, thrives off of suffering.  In some ways, he is the leech.  As House so intuitively insinuated: “Half the doctors who specialize in oncology turned into burned out cases, but you. You eat neediness.”  (Wilson, of course responds “Lucky for you.”)  House then goes on to elaborate: “You're a functional vampire. Sure you're heroic, useful to society, but only because it feeds you.... You don't just have a fetish for needy people, you marry them. You mean it! And then time passes and suddenly they're not so needy any more. Your fault. You've been there for them too much, they're getting healthy, independent. And that's just ugly... .”  More on Wilson’s marriages later, but the fact remains that he’s in the Cancer business to help people, yes, but that helping, in turn, helps himself to cope.

    Which further explains House’s and Wilson’s relationship.  As Wilson so deftly pointed out, there is no patient needier than House.  For House, there is no person more enigmatic than Wilson.  So their friendship relies on House trying to figure out Wilson like a puzzle, and Wilson leeching off of House’s neediness for his own benefit.

    But just what is so enigmatic about Wilson?  On face-value, he’s just a nice Jewish boy who cares about people and is genuinely kind, if not flawed.  However, upon deeper analysis, Wilson is a study in opposites.  He acts as House’s foil in that they are both in similar states of loneliness and professions, but Wilson is friendly, collected, and rational, whereas House is abrasive, off-kilter, and reckless.  But whenever House acts immorally–that is, commits a crime or breaches medical ethics, he does so under the Machiavellian presumption that the ends justify the means.  House is always working for a greater good, thus making his poor judgments mere sacrifices to the proverbial Cause.  And though that “Cause” often constitutes him solving the case for his own sake, there are many instances where he will make a “human” decision, believe it or not.  (Does his latest stunt with the mentally challenged Dave Matthews ring a bell?)  Granted, most of the time, when he acts in the interests of his patients, it’s because he sees himself in them (a la the autistic kid from a while back), but the fact remains that he does work toward a greater good, be it for his sickness or authentic compassion.  Conversely, when Wilson acts immorally, he serves no greater purpose.  He sleeps with his terminally ill patients, he is a noted philanderer even whilst married, he’s had three failed marriages, and he covers for House under almost every circumstance.  When Cameron grills him about cheating, Wilson admits to infidelity.  (Wilson later described his nameless and gender-neutral lover to have made him feel “funny, good,” and that he “didn’t want to let that feeling go.”  This, of course, has led to allegations of homosexuality, which makes for a spicy House-Wilson fic.)   Princeton-Plainsboro’s esteemed Golden Boy, as it turns out, is not so golden.  Because where House is an idealist, Wilson is a realist.  And though his poor judgment calls are far subtler than House’s, they are always for a lesser cause.  Hell, when House assisted a dying father’s suicide, Wilson wasn’t even in it for the principle.  He was there to give House an alibi.  He was there, in other words, to placate his own masochistic tendencies.  House killed a guy for righteousness; Wilson killed a guy for House.

    So Wilson puzzles House.  How can a seemingly upright, well-standing doctor be such a morally ambiguous, inherently evil man–and even worse, how can he go about it in such a covert manner?  House takes the fall for every inconsequential foul play he commits.  Wilson gets away with everything.  This is, in part, due to Wilson’s reputation, but even more so, I would tag it onto Wilson’s innate talent for manipulation.

    It is mentioned many times throughout the series that Wilson is an empathetic orator, that he has a way with people.  House describes a bet with Wilson: “This buddy of mine, I gotta give him ten bucks every time somebody says thank you. Imagine that. This guy’s so good, people thank him for telling them that they’re dying.”  But House especially cannot disregard the underlying meaning behind Wilson’s words.  I’ll reference a particular conversation the two have after Wilson convinces a supposed faith-healing fifteen-year-old to accept treatment:

House: You have a gift for manipulation.
Wilson: I listen, I have an actual conversation with people. Which shockingly does raise the odds that they'll be  co-operative.
House: That's what I'm saying. You read that kid, then manipulated the hell out of him.

Perhaps Wilson’s manipulative streak is, in fact, subconscious, but the point remains that it exists.  Now, whether or not House was being an ass is definitely up for grabs (he was being an ass, for the record), but what he said rings true.  Wilson doesn’t necessarily have to have a personal bond with someone to make him or her bend to his will.  He is guilty of judging people just as much as House is.  He just uses his observations to his advantage, in accordance with his bedside manner.  Wilson may not care about House’s patients, but the patients will always think he does.  Wilson is a manipulative bastard.

    So now we’ve got three counts against Wilson: he’s selfish, he’s immoral, and he’s manipulative.  This does not fit into House’s neat diagnosis of “spineless philanthropist.”  So, due to his inquisitive (to put it lightly) nature, House refuses to give up on Wilson.  House administers lab tests and the results are always false negatives or false positives.  He pushes Wilson to the limit one day and Wilson doesn’t crack–that means he’s genuine and kind.  But the next day, he pushes Wilson to the limit, but it’s a different limit.  He tempts Wilson, and Wilson eats the fruit from Eden, and no one is the more knowledgeable.  So long as House can’t figure Wilson out, House will always use Wilson.  Which ultimately benefits Wilson, because he wants to be used.


Wilson as Superego


    It is doubtless that Wilson serves as House’s harness.  House, like a greedy child, acts spontaneously and without a second thought.  He gets what he wants, and he never considers the consequences.  When, on rare occasion, he doesn’t get what he wants, he whines and pouts and threatens, and does more stupid, reckless things that get him into even more trouble.  He is the kid, he is the little barbarian jumping up and down and fuming but never using his words, he is the animal, he is the Id.  I see, I want, I take.

    Wilson never acts without deep consideration, and that consideration results in his over-analysis of... everything.  Because of this, as noted before, he often chooses the inappropriate course of action.  The immoral course of action.  But not necessarily because he thinks it’s corrupt; he’s already reasoned his way out of reasoning.  He’s justified the unjustifiable, because he’s had time to mull it over before making his decision.  And, with a little manipulation and people-skills, he can convince others–and himself–of anything.  He is House’s conscience, the little controlling factor in the back of House’s brain that says, nah-ah-ah, leave room for dessert, and do share your toys, Greg.  Wilson is Freud’s elusive Superego.

    So now House and Wilson need each other on a higher level.  Without the Superego, the Id becomes tyrannical.  However, there is such thing as the tyrant-Superego, as well.

    But how do you catch a Superego?

    You watch its Id when it isn’t there.

    In the episode 314, entitled, “Insensitive,” Wilson is missing for a large portion of the diagnosis.  Here, House is dealing with a CIPA patient.  The writers have illustrated another one of those House-foils.  This is a wounded, witty girl with an unusual temper and an even stranger disease.  She can’t feel pain.  She is House without the pain.  But what she’s not counting on is House’s primal instincts.  House sees nerve endings without pain.  House wants nerve endings without pain.  House takes nerve endings without–

    Not so fast.  Where the other ducklings are ignorant to House’s true intents, Wilson knows what a brain biopsy means right off the bat.  He’s had time to think it over.  He knows House wants those nerve endings for himself.   He goes to the source, and guilts him into doing the “right thing.”  And only an empathetic orator like Wilson would be able to convince a hard-ass like House of any sort of “thing,” let alone the “right thing.”  Wilson, then, serves as House’s conscience, as his Superego.   


Wilson as Watson, Wilson as Wilson


    But symbolism aside, Wilson is very, very human.  In some ways, he’s more human than House.  Well, okay, symbolism not aside.  Because Wilson is so human, he is also House’s soundboard–House’s “Wilson” soccer ball, House’s “Dr. Watson.”  House goes to Wilson when he has something to say.  He explains cases to him, even talks about his personal life.  Wilson is House’s only friend in the world, and to some extent, House is his.  (Of course there’s Cuddy, but she’s more of an escape from House/someone who understands.)

    Though Wilson is undeniably intelligent, he does not specialize in Infectious Diseases.  While he probably knows basic information about the profession, and perhaps a few more little eccentricities he’s encountered from dealing with House, he is largely ignorant of the subject.  And he’s nowhere near as insightful or observant as House.  Thus, Wilson acts as a plot device.  He’s the guy House goes to when the audience needs to understand something.  If Wilson gets it, so can we.  In that sense, he is Watson to House’s Holmes.

    But it could be argued that Watson is not a single entity; rather, he is the composite ducklings.  House’s ducklings–as they have so affectionately been nicknamed–are by no means stupid, either, but they certainly don’t know as much as House (save Dr. Chase, but that’s another essay entirely), and he bounces ideas off them like he would bounce a basketball off a backboard... if he weren’t a cripple.  Though the language is much more complex, the message is the same: House knows the answer, House uses his staff to explain the answer to ardent television watchers.

    But I tend to think that Wilson is House’s Watson, if not simply because Wilson is House’s confidante.  Now, I’m not a seasoned veteran of the Holmes stories, but I know a few things.  One of the first is that Dr. James Wilson and Dr. John Watson share the same initials.  An obvious, shallow fact, but interesting and notable nonetheless.  (I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that “Holmes” sounds like “homes,” which is synonymous with “House,” a very peculiar last name...)  The next is that Watson is respected by Holmes, just as Wilson is actually respected by House.  Though his insight is nowhere near identical, House outwardly accepts Wilson’s medical talents, even if he thinks him something of a pansy.  House in no way respects his Ducklings (except, maybe, Foreman, but that too is another essay entirely), and so, they cannot be Watson.  But finally, House isn’t friends with his employees.  He’s friends with Wilson.  Best friends.  Perhaps only friends.

    Because the final aspect that relates Wilson to Watson is that he’s much more Chuck Noland’s Castaway soccer ball.  House relates his angst unto a partially-responsive Wilson, the person.  House has never, never, never opened up to anyone but Wilson; he doesn’t even open up to Stacy (wherein lies their many relationship problems).  Wilson knows everything about House, every quirk, every virtue and vice.  Most of the time, he just watches, even as his friend delves into the depths of insanity and depression.  Almost like he’s some sort of inanimate object.

    But Wilson is not a soccer ball.  Wilson is Wilson.  Wilson is human.  There–I caught you in a double-entendre.  Wilson is a human being who makes mistakes.  He is, on occasion, wrong.  And he loves House.  But he doubts himself; he doesn’t even know if House loves him back, and somehow, he thrives off that.  Because House needs him, and he needs to be needed, but he doesn’t necessarily need to be loved–that’s just an added bonus.  House is all Wilson’s got.  Sure, he’s been married thrice, but his marriages always result in catastrophe.  This could automatically be pinned on his job, or his psyche, but I think the reason runs deeper.

    The reason is House.  House keeps him from maintaining any meaningful relationships.  House is the reason Wilson is a serial womanizer, because Wilson only has time to devote to House, if he wants to devote it.  House is demanding, House is draining, House is a leech.  But Wilson loves him, because these characters go past mere literary symbols; they are very much people. 

    In episode 117, “Babies and Bathwater,” House’s job is up for grabs... again.  This time, it’s that rich bully Edward Vogler who’s got a bone to pick with the lab coat-less diagnostician.  Aside from the notable fact that Wilson, not House, delivers the diagnosis to a pregnant woman who has lung cancer and must either endure radiation and deliver the baby too early, or wait it out a week longer to give her baby another shot, this episode is also a test of his loyalty to House.  Except, like he has time and time again, House gives him nothing in return.  Wilson, who is not just a renowned doctor, but the Head of Oncology, loses his spot on the hospital Board because he votes against House’s dismissal.  But he votes against it after House doesn’t show up for a speech.  House was given the chance to save his own ass, but, like always, left it for Wilson to clean up.  Except it didn’t work this time.  Wilson took the brunt of the attack, and it didn’t help House at all.  Wilson is left feeling worthless yet again.  He screams to House, “I’ve got no kids, my marriage sucks; I’ve only got two things that work for me: this job, and this stupid, screwed-up friendship, and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech!”

    Now, I happen to believe that House is just an immature little Id, and does care very much about Wilson.  He is simply socially-retarded, and doesn’t know how to get across to his friend that yeah, he loves him, too.  He doesn’t know exactly how to explain why he wants Wilson to stay at his apartment after Wilson leaves his wife, but House does want him to stay.  He doesn’t know exactly how to explain why he only enjoys spending time (yes, outside of the hospital!) with Wilson, or why they end up together–albeit reluctantly–every holiday.  But the point is, Wilson needs two things: a) to be needed, as we’ve addressed before, and b) House.  It’s all he’s got–he said it himself!

    In that sense, Pretty-boy Wilson and Damaged-but-brilliant House make the perfect pair.  Robert Sean Leonard, the sexy hunk of a man who plays Wilson in the series, summed it up in a few words: “I like being the guy who isn’t the guy, but that the guy counts on. Plus, I’ve wanted to be Tony Randall all my life.”  That, of course, is an allusion to the odd couple, which House’s and Wilson’s relationship definitely parallels.

    If you’ve noticed, I haven’t spent much time on Wilson as a single entity.  It’s been Wilson-and-House, Wilson-and-House, House-and-Wilson.  There’s a reason for that.  House, M.D. is about House, M.D.  Most characters surrounding him only get airtime when they’ve got something important to contribute to his character.  However, I think what makes Wilson unique is that he does get a character of his own.  He does get those virtues and vices–the need to be needed, the selfishness, the selflessness, the loyalty, the compassion, the amiability.  But because he is, in the end, House’s sidekick, we don’t know much about Wilson’s past; we only see its ramifications on his character.  We have facts.  We do know that he has two brothers, one of whom he hasn’t spoken to in nine years.  We know he’s Jewish.  We know he’s been married three times, and had an affair with some sketchy individual during Marriage Number One.  We suspect he’s known Greg House for a considerable period of time.  We know he exhibits behavior evocative of an abusive or neglected childhood, possibly riddled with divorce.  This is often fanfiction fodder, but it does paint Wilson as an extremely complex character, as well.  Which, I think, is the writers’ point.  If House, the wounded, snarky, damaged, biting, reckless, immature, very 3-D physician could have an equal, it would have to be an equally 3-D character.  It would have to be Wilson.

    House and Wilson are both leeches.  They both feast off each other, they both derive pleasure from each other in strange, perverse ways; they’re both blood-sucking parasites.  But they are also both undeniably human.  They hurt, and they hurt each other.  They are both doctors, yes, but each is also a patient in his own hospital.  Only Wilson can heal House.  But only House can heal Wilson, too, and it’s something that goes regrettably overlooked.


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