The Fox television show House is the one show I was pining for during the writer’s strike. I’ve got the whole series on DVD/iTunes Download and am really looking forward to new episodes. I realized early on that the reason for my love of the show isn’t that it’s a medical drama - I’m not a fan of those, but rather that it’s a re-imagining of my favorite fictional hero, Sherlock Holmes.

They’re not shy about this, either. Holmes’ famous address is, of course, 221b Baker Street. House’s address is “221″ and his apartment is unit “B.” Like Holmes, House (see the naming similarity, too? “House,” “Holmes” - a house is, after all a home) is a lonely bachelor with a lost love, his sidekick is Dr. WILSON (Holmes’ is Dr. WATSON). Of course they’re both addicted to Opiates, as well - Holmes the straight Opium which was a real problem in turn of the century England while House has his Vicodin, an opiate based analgesic. I could go on. But I won’t. Even the creators of the show admit House is Holmes.

Growing up in the 70s, I couldn’t have cared less for Marcus Welby or Dr. Gannon of Medical Center. House/Holmes though? It makes medicine interesting, even if the show plays fast and loose with the facts. Like House, I don’t really want to get involved in the human stories of medical treatment. I like the puzzles.

So, given all that, and the fact that given the natural process of aging in myself and my parents, medical treatment is becoming a bigger and bigger part of my life, I realized this morning that I’ve learned 4 basic things from House.

1. Opiates can be really, really bad.

2. Doctors make mistakes.

3. Everyone lies.

4 Opiates can be really, really good.

Oh, and by the way, I took this quiz, and “stuck that primo! How rad am I?”

True fans will get the reference.

Penelope Trunk is an amazingly brave blogger. She writes about both personal and business issues and has a book about career development that’s probably pretty brave too, but I haven’t read it yet. Her latest blog post about dealing with her post-partum depression is, as one commenter says, “breathtaking in (its) candor.”

Boy, is it ever.

Then, one night, the baby was screaming and our three-year-old wouldn’t go to bed and my husband was telling me that I needed to get the three-year-old some milk and I was saying that he should and I’ll get the baby and he rolled his eyes, and then I took a knife out of the dirty dishes and stabbed my head.

I don’t actually remember doing it. I remember my husband saying, “Oh my god. There’s blood everywhere.”

The vast majority of people who make their living giving advice would never in a million years spill a story like Penelope did (and has in the past with other issues by the way) because doing so makes her look vulnerable and lots of people don’t think vulnerable people can help them, because they’re…well, vulnerable. Misguided souls who are looking for a Superman or Wonder Woman to offer them quick fixes don’t want flawed heroes. The irony is, every hero is flawed, but in real life, what “saves” you isn’t the hero swooping in to catch you in mid-air, but rather the reminder that you’ve got an emergency parachute strapped to your back, or a helpful tip about how to grab a branch as you fall past a big tree. Okay, the being saved from falling metaphor is a little weak, but you get it, right? Superheroes, if they existed in real life would probably be pretty useless, because they’d have a lack of empathy for us normal humans. Say you’re falling. Superman, who all his life has been able to effortlessly fly, run faster than trains, etc… would probably just say “jeesh, all you have to do is FLY, you moron!” Little help there. After a while, saving us weak, helpless mortals would get pretty old.

Penelope Trunk can help precisely because she understands what it is to need to find a creative way out of a problem. She’s done it, so I know I can do it too, and that makes her much more valuable than Wonder Woman.

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