Page 89 of Tumbleweed Temptation
“Why would I want to ride in that little car of yours?”
Because if the news was bad, he might not want to concentrate on driving, Austin wanted to say. Because Austin didn't want to be responsible for driving this monster back home.
He’d deal with that when the time came. He hoped Mr. McKay didn’t want to make small talk on the way.
He shouldn’t have been worried. Mr. McKay turned on the radio and motioned to a thermos in the console.
“Coffee there if you want it.”
“Thanks.” Because he wanted to accept the offer, he poured himself a small cupful. Last thing he wanted was to spill it in this truck that still smelled new.
Because he didn't pour that much, he finished, and settled back against the leather seat, fiddling with the cup in his lap and looking out the window.
They’d driven a number of miles before he couldn't stand it any more.
“Do you want to know what to expect when we get there? What kinds of tests they’ll be doing?”
“Will I know the results today?”
“No, we probably won’t get them until tomorrow, Friday at the latest.”
Mr. McKay scowled. “I thought that was why we’re doing these fancy tests.”
“Sure you’ll have the tests today but a radiologist has to evaluate what’s found. Have you ever had an MRI before?”
Mr. McKay shook his head.
“It involves laying on your back and sliding into a tube, where you have to be pretty still. Are you claustrophobic at all?”
“I got pinned under a tractor for a few hours when I was a kid. But I pushed through. I’m no sissy.”
“Okay, well, you’ll be asked to change into a hospital gown, nothing with metal. You can get your wedding ring off?”
“It hasn’t come off my finger in nearly forty years.”
“Well, it’s going to have to, today.” Austin eyed it and feared it might have to be cut off. He was surprised that Mr. McKay risked wearing it with the physical work he did on the ranch. Austin had seen some pretty hairy wedding-ring-related injuries. “And I ordered a contrast, so we can better see what’s going on. So they’re going to give you an IV and insert a contrast dye into your veins.”
“Dye in my veins? What the hell?”
“It’s to make everything stand out better on the scan. You know, contrast. It’s in less than a minute, then they put you in the machine, which can take up to an hour. We can get you a valium if you think you’re going to have a problem in there. Better to get in front of it than have to do it all over again.”
Mr. McKay only grunted. Austin wasn't sure if that was agreement or not.
“Are they going to do the MRI before the blood tests? Will the dye affect what they find?”
“No, we’re doing the blood tests first, but you’ve recently had a full panel, so we’re just taking this for comparison. I don't expect it to give us answers. The MRI is going to be more forthcoming.”
Mr. McKay nodded. “But we won’t know anything today?”
“Nothing for sure, no.” But Austin intended to be in the room with the radiologist during the scan.
They rode in silence a bit farther.
“How’s the practice working out for you?” Mr. McKay asked finally.
“Not all that great, lately.”
“What does that mean?”
