This Wednesday just gone we sat across from each other.

A vast sea of white sheets and rubber mattress between us.

In his hand he held the letter that I had fashioned, worried about, lost sleep over.

I tried to gauge his reaction, read the emotions playing across his face

instead I  could only wish myself away from the tiny room.

For a moment the only sounds were the quiet role playing of the little girl who had brought us together.

I waited for what seemed an age for him to draw the first breath, to start the conversation

so I could know

if  we could make it work

or if my words had come across as too harsh, too hurtful, too brisk.

“We need a plan”, he said

and I felt myself relax a little, felt my body exhale.

A mighty plan indeed;

An emergency plan,

A management plan,

A plan to communicate regularly

and a plan to change antibiotics.

Issues and problems that I had skirted around and avoided

addressed fully and amiably.

“So it went well,” suggested Maddy that afternoon.

“Yes” I replied “but the test will be what happens next”

and as if on cue

my phone rang

with the good news that he had talked with the specialist.

A new antibiotic secured

starting next week.

Finally,

a reprieve.