house md will always be remebered as the most insane thing ever broadcast because of how unabashedly feral everyone involved was.
a short collection of things that happen on the show, just off the top of my head, not even scratching the surface:
- house shoots a random dead body in the morgue and then sticks him in an mri machine, which pulls the bullet out of the dead guy’s head and destroys the machine, costing the hospital millions
- foreman gets bitten by a person with rabies
- chase kills an african dictator
- cameron steals drugs from a patient after possibly getting hiv from said patient
- house induces a migraine and then takes a drug made by his arch nemesis (who he’s been stalking for 25 years) to get the drug taken off the market. he then takes lsd (in the hospital, in the middle of a case) to cure the migraine.
- chase goes into anaphylaxis after doing body shots
- house stops an elevator so he can perform a cavity (vaginal) search on a teenage heart transplant patient who’s in cardiorespiratory arrest
- they give a neurosurgeon mushrooms to cure his food poisoning, then they stick him in an operating room. the neurosurgeon strips in front of a health board assessor.
- kutner dies for gay marriage
- house sets an autopsy room on fire while trying to juggle flaming bottles
- house gets recruited by the cia
- taub gets held at gun point after diagnosing a stripper with skin cancer
- in almost every single episode, the team breaks into multiple houses
- house fakes terminal brain cancer so he can get drugs implanted directly into the pleasure centre of his brain
- house cons us immigration to get his fake wife a green card. he also uses his fake wife’s ukrainian food truck to spy on people
- house tries to get wilson, his closet case boybestfriend, into bed every few episodes. every other sentence out of house’s mouth is about wanting to rail wilson.
- taub has a kid with his ex-wife, after they divorce, at the same time he has a kid with his 25 yo side piece. the kids’ names are sophie and sophia.
- house and wilson have a bet on who can hide a chicken in the hospital the longest without anyone finding out
- house tries to kill himself like 6 times and always fails (insulin shock, overdoses, electrocution, jumping off a building, cutting, etc)
- house fakes his death to get out of a prison sentence after violating his parole so he can live out his bi love story with his gay best friend who has 5 months to live
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SAAM2024 - SA Awareness Month
TW: SA, discussions around rape and sexual violence
Listen, I’m going to talk about something it isn’t easy or fun to talk about. I’m going to try and get a point across, and hopefully have it amount to something legible, because I am already feeling my body physically reacting with symptoms of stress.
I want to talk about sexual assault.
Did you know that April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month? And has been, for the last 23 years? Because I sure didn’t! Which is wild, considering I am a survivor of six separate incidents of sexual assault, two of which were penetrative rape.
I looked up the SAAM2024 hashtag and found crickets. Because who the hell wants to talk about sexual violence and rape on a random Thursday, right?
The thing is, we need to be having these conversations.
Of course, the onus isn’t on survivors to start the conversation — who would ask someone who is horrifically traumatised to open those scars again and talk about their trauma? I couldn’t even say the word “rape” for years.
[note: I have chosen not to censor the word rape here as a part of my own recovery process. Its just a word. I refuse to let it incite terror. Its just a word. ]
So who, then? If we could all talk about sex and sexual assault —if these were topics of conversation that weren’t so taboo to discuss— we could begin to take steps to make things safer for ourselves and for others.
So here I am, talking.
I feel it is important to destigmatise sex as this hush hush topic; it’s important to be able to discuss safe sex, consent, to differentiate what is just “bad sex” from what is assault. People are often quick to brush off encounters that give them the ick as just “bad sex”.
I was no different.
At sixteen, I didn’t have the terminology to describe what happened to me as rape. In a culture that glamorises illicit affairs and drunken hook-ups at parties, I didn’t have the comprehension to realise that what happened to me was not some sexy, drunken, desirable thing.
[trigger warning for more context around the first of my rapes]
I had been at a party, celebrating the wrap of my high school’s theatre production. I had been drinking underage and was extremely drunk*.
(*which in no way excuses what happened to me — it is important to take steps to dismantle rape culture and victim-blaming.)
There was a classmate I had been on a few dates with, and though we had been handsy during makeout sessions a few times, we had never discussed having sex. He offered to pick me up from the party, to give me a place to stay for the night. He had not been in attendance at the party, and was completely sober. By the time he drove us both home, I was already intermittently blacking out.
I have only a few memories of that night. One, crystal clear even to this day — a concerned classmate, grabbing my arm as I was heading out of the venue. The look of alarm on his face as he asked if I had a safe means of transport home. I lied to him. I have no idea why. I told him my mother was waiting in the vehicle that had just pulled up, and he let me go.
The next memory that I have is of his bedroom ceiling. A vague, blurred outline of his unclothed body over mine, as he was raping me.
Yes, we had been at that tentative, early stage of a potential relationship. Yes, I had taken him up on the offer to go to sleep at his house.
But, in the state I was in, there is no possible way I could have consented to sex.
I knew something was wrong, afterwards. I knew I spent the next night curled in a ball, sobbing in the shower for a reason. I knew there was a reason I froze up when a friend side-eyed me at school the following Monday, and said “you had sex with him, didn’t you?”.
What I didn’t understand was that the reason was because I had been raped.
Because I didn’t have the vocabulary to describe my experience as such.
Because people don’t like to talk about sexual assault.
But we need to talk about sexual assault.
Conversations about sex can and should be removed from the concept of arousal. You can and should talk about sex without it being labelled as horny, or flirty, or suggestive — because it is just another topic to learn about.
Sex is an intricately nuanced thing that can mean so many different things to so many different people. There are elements of shame and embarrassment around sexual encounters sometimes; young and naive as I was, I was ready to take my crawling feelings of shame, self-blame, disgust, and put them down to “it was just bad sex”.
It wasn’t until long after the horror of my second, more violent rape, that I was able to pinpoint some of the trauma responses as being the same as that first time. There were patterns there, feelings that, had I been in a position of knowing more about safe sex and consent, I would have recognised sooner for what they were.
Its all well and good to go “hey! Don’t rape people!” and pat yourself on the back for your activism.
But the thing is, that kind of does sweet fuck all to actually help people who are at risk of experiencing sexual violence. What we really need is to take actionable steps toward improving people’s sexual safety and practises around consent and safe sex.
So what does that look like?
We talk about sex and consent without stigma.
We believe survivors and do not victim-blame
We practice respecting other people’s bodily autonomy in everyday scenarios, before it ever reaches a sexual context — if someone doesn’t want to hug you, respect their autonomy! If someone tells you to stop tickling them, even though they are laughing, hey, guess what? Respect their autonomy!
We remember what consent looks like, and take steps to inform others — consent is always clear, continuous, coercion-free, and conscious.
We make it second nature to take basic steps toward safety — never leave a drink unattended at a party! Stick to a buddy system to ensure people get home safe! Not because you suspect something will happen, it's just a default behaviour!
Be that classmate that tries to stop a drunk person walking out into the night alone.
The more we do these kinds of things, the less mystical and nebulous this whole “safe sex and healthy consent” thing becomes, and the safer we all are for it.
I’m gonna cut myself off here for my own wellbeing, as this has been extremely taxing, but let me provide a few links that I think are relevant. I hope this might be in some way helpful, and encourages others to continue the conversation offline. (or online, even -- reblogs are totally fine, and please feel free to add other stories or links if you have resources to share)
Be safe, and to any SA survivors who happen to be reading this, please know that you will always be yours, and what happened to you was not your fault. 💖
What is Consent (VeryWellMind)
History of Sexual Assault Awareness Month (NSVRC)
Sexual Violence Prevention: Beginning the Dialogue (NSVRC)
How to Support a Survivor (CRCC)
Finding Help If You’ve Been Sexually Abused (Crisis Text Line)
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