Because of You

12

The clock read 9 a.m. as the Eaton women sat in the waiting room for Dr. Whitmore. Heavy air drifted throughout the room, adding to their already tension-packed mindsets. Charlotte sat stoically still; the only movement came from biting at her fingernails. They were almost all down to the bone. Lo's right foot bounced her leg up and down rapidly and her eyes were glued to the receptionist area and what lay beyond it, waiting for them. Dot tried to get Charlotte to stop her nail biting by gently pushing her hand down and away from her mouth. To anyone else, the room was calming. The wide brushstrokes on the paintings of wildflowers hanging on the wall would have usually evoked each of the three Eaton girls to picture their farmhouse. Out back, where all of the wildflowers sway, was an unclouded scene. With that, serenity would have followed, easing their devastating worries. But, not one of the Eatons noticed the paintings or thought about the comfort of being back home. They only imagined what was ahead of them - a few minutes' time would tell.

Charlotte's name was eventually called, and they were all led through a narrow hallway until they reached Dr. Whitmore's office. For Lo and Dot, the office slightly eased their worries, offering them large leatherback chairs to unload in and reassuring certificates and degrees on the wall to admire. Charlotte was still just as nervous, maybe even moreso. She didn't notice any of the wall hangings or the luxury of the armchairs. She stared out the window at the park across the street. It was large in size, offering a vast area for visitors to choose their resting spot. She noticed three different dogs racing after balls and frisbees that their owners had thrown for them. A little girl posed in front of a patch of daffodils while her parents took her picture. Charlotte longed to be there, lying in the grass in the summer sun, listening to people live and living herself.

After a few minutes, Dr. Whitmore arrived. "Hello, Ms. Eaton," he said with an extended hand.

He brought Charlotte's mind back to the room.

She shook his hand and mumbled, "Hi." She cleared her throat loudly and tried again - more audible this time, "Hello, Dr. Whitmore."

He sat down behind his impressive desk and slid a file under his nose. "Who do we have with us today?" he asked.

Dot spoke, "I'm Dot Eaton, Charlotte's mother, and this is her daughter, Elowen."

At that, Lo tensed up, but didn't correct her grandmother. Just sat up straighter in her chair.

"I'm happy to see you have so much support," the doctor said, smiling brightly.

"Yes, I'm very lucky," Charlotte agreed.

Dr. Whitmore then changed his tone and a serious look swept over his face. He grabbed for a pair of glasses that were peeking out at the top of his white coat pocket.

"Charlotte, I reviewed your history and talked with your doctor in Columbia. Is that where you live?" He looked up and waited for her response.

Quietly, she said, "No, we live in Harper. It's a small town outside of Columbia."

"I see," he said. "Well, I've put together a new treatment plan to start. However, I've submitted your name to be added to our transplant waiting list."

"Okay," Charlotte responded, unsure of the right questions to ask.

Dot interrupted, "What does that mean? Submitted?"

Dr. Whitmore smiled and said, "Our hospital transplant team will decide whether Charlotte is a good candidate for a heart transplant. Today, the transplant physician, myself, and the transplant surgeon, Dr. Davenport, will examine your present condition. If we agree that your name must be added to the transplant list, you will then be placed into a level."