13
Zoey
“Three to six months?” Cora squawked incredulously. “But you just told us she’s a match. Her tissue type and blood group match mine perfectly. I thought you said that’s all we needed for a transplant.”
Sitting next to Cora at the doctor’s office, I reached for her hand to give it a supportive squeeze, but she jerked her fingers away and kept glaring at her doctor.
He sent her a stern look over the tops of his bifocals before letting out a sigh. “No, I said blood and tissue had to match before we could even get started. Miss Blakeland will still need to go through a series of tests to ensure her physical and mental health.”
Cora snorted as if that idea were absurd. “Like what?”
All the while I was gulping. But mental? What the heck did they mean by mental tests? Were they goin
