Peter hated MRIs, he decided. Technically he had decided this several MRIs ago, but he was rudely reminded every time he slid into the vile machine and it beeped viciously at him. Then he would listen to inane music on his iPod for twenty minutes while he tried to ignore the jackhammer-like sound the machine made as it worked.
Still, it was better than as stereotactic biopsy. God he hoped he didn't have to have another one of those.
When it was all over he jumped up and pulled his own clothes on, discarding the hospital gown in the 'used' bin with gusto. The results would take awhile and all he really wanted to do was drink which wasn't entirely helpful.
Instead of giving in to the delicious amber liquid he really wanted, Peter went in search of someone to talk at. Perhaps he could find one of the Littletons who worked at his hospital, or even one of the residents who felt like a chat. Upon entering the residency ward, Peter spotted Charles Allen and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hello, Charles. You're looking well."
Still, it was better than as stereotactic biopsy. God he hoped he didn't have to have another one of those.
When it was all over he jumped up and pulled his own clothes on, discarding the hospital gown in the 'used' bin with gusto. The results would take awhile and all he really wanted to do was drink which wasn't entirely helpful.
Instead of giving in to the delicious amber liquid he really wanted, Peter went in search of someone to talk at. Perhaps he could find one of the Littletons who worked at his hospital, or even one of the residents who felt like a chat. Upon entering the residency ward, Peter spotted Charles Allen and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hello, Charles. You're looking well."