“She’s good”, I said when he asked,

although he really had no idea because he had not been there for most of the last month.

Or the month before ;

could not comprehend what we had been through.

He had come once, after surgery but she was still groggy

so, she wouldn’t count that

and  frankly, neither would I.

He took the  stethoscope from around his neck.

“How have you been, princess?” he asked

but she would not look at him.

Instead she looked downwards

and turned her back to him

and then climbed into my lap.

I stood up and held her.

She squeezed so tightly.

“It’s okay” I crooned, “you know the paed, you know him”.

He worked quickly then, checked her over.

Still she would not acknowledge him,

her face giving nothing and everything away.

Angry.

Jaded

and maybe a little weary of him too -

she had lost her trust, her faith,

he had lost his rapport

and he knew it.

The paed had always been a ‘safe’ person for Ivy.

He was always someone who made her feel ‘better’

but he had not been there for her this time,

when she needed him,

when she was scared,

when she felt awful.

He let her down.

He tried all of his usual charming tricks, he said all of the right things

but the girl did not budge.

Her face remained sullen, her eyes cast to the ground.

I can’t help feeling that maybe, just maybe

he deserved it.