style="font-size:15px;"> McKenzie’s jaw dropped.
Lance grinned. “Monkey business, eh? Is that what practicing medicine is called these days?”
“Practicing medicine isn’t the business I was talking about. You know what I meant,” the older woman accused, wagging her finger at him.
“As did you when I asked what you thought was going on,” Lance countered, not fazed by her good-natured fussing.
The woman sighed and seemed to lose some of her gusto. “I’m not sure. My stomach has been hurting, but I just figured it was my constipation. Then today I saw that blood when I spit up, so I wasn’t sure what was going on and thought I’d better let Dr. Sanders check me.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too,” the woman admitted, looking every one of her eighty years and then a few. “I definitely feel better now than I did earlier. I think the oxygen is helping.”
“Were you having a hard time breathing, Edith?”
“Not really. I just felt like air was having trouble getting into my body.”
More symptoms Edith had failed to mention.
“Any weight gain?”
“She was two pounds heavier than at her last office visit a couple of weeks ago,” McKenzie answered, knowing where his mind was going. “Her feet and ankles have one plus nonpitting edema and she says her wedding band,” which Edith had never stopped wearing after her husband’s death, “isn’t tighter than normal.”
While Lance checked her over from head to toe, McKenzie logged in to the computer system and began charting her notes.
“Chest is noisy.” Lance had obviously heard the extra sounds in Edith’s lungs, too. They were difficult to miss. “Let’s get a CT of her chest and maybe a D-dimer, too.”
She’d already planned to order both.
“I’ve added the chest CT and a BNP to her labs, and recommended proceeding with the D-dimer if her BNP is elevated.” McKenzie agreed with his suggestions. “Anything else you can think of?”
He shook his head. “Maybe a sputum culture, just in case, but otherwise I think you’ve covered everything.”
Not everything. With the human body there were so many little intricate things that could go wrong that it was impossible to cover every contingency. Especially in someone Edith’s age when things were already not working as efficiently.
They stayed in Edith’s room for a few more minutes, talking to her and trying to ascertain more clues about what was going on with her, then spoke with Edith’s nurse to check on the reason for doing the portable chest X-ray rather than having it done in the radiology department. Apparently, the machine had been having issues. Edith’s nurse was going to check with the radiologist and text McKenzie as soon as results were available.
“Anyone else you need to see before we go?” she asked Lance.
He shook his head. “I went by to check on the mayor prior to going to Edith’s room.”
“Oh,” McKenzie acknowledged, glancing his way as they crossed the hospital parking lot. The wind nipped at her and she wished she’d changed from her lab coat into her jacket. “How is he doing?”
“He’s recovering from his surgery nicely. The surgeon plans to release him to go home tomorrow as long as there are no negative changes between now and then.”
“That’s good.”
“You saved his life.”
“If I hadn’t been there, you would have done so. It’s really no big deal.”
“He thinks it is a big deal. So does his wife. They are very grateful you were there.”
McKenzie wasn’t sure what Lance expected her to say. She’d just been at the right place at the right time and had helped do what had needed to be done.
“He wants us to ride on his float in the Christmas parade.”
“What?”
“He invited us to ride on his float this Saturday.”
“I don’t want to be in the Christmas parade.” Once upon a time she’d have loved to ride on a Christmas parade float.
“You a Scrooge?”
“No, but I don’t want to ride on a Christmas float and wave at people who are staring at me.”
Ever since her fighting parents had caused a scene at school and her entire class had stared at McKenzie, as if she had somehow been responsible, McKenzie had hated being the center of attention.
“That’s fine,” he said, not fazed by her reticence. “I’ll do the waving and you stare at me.”
“How is that supposed to keep them from staring at me?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone will be staring at the mayor and not us.”
“I hope you told him no.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. “You’d hope wrong.”
She stopped walking. “I’m not into being a spectacle.”
She’d felt that way enough as a child thanks to her parents’ antics. She wouldn’t purposely put herself in that position again.
“How is participating in a community Christmas parade being a spectacle?”
She supposed he made a good point, but still…
“Besides, don’t people stare at you when you run your races?”
“Long-distance running doesn’t exactly draw a fan base.” She started toward his car again.
“That a hint for me to come cheer you on at your next run?”
She shook her head. “I don’t need anyone to cheer me on.”
“What if I want to cheer you on?”
She shook her head again. She didn’t want him or anyone else watching her run. She didn’t want to expect someone to be there and then them possibly not show up. To run because she loved running was one thing. To run and think someone was there, supporting her, and them not really be, well, she’d felt that disappointment multiple times throughout her childhood and she’d really prefer not to go down that road again.
Some things just weren’t worth repeating.
“I tell you what, if you want to come to one of my races, that’s fine. But not as a cheerleader. If you want to come,” she challenged, stopping at his car’s passenger side, “you run.”
He opened the car door and grinned. “You’re inviting me to be on your team? I like
