Bring healing art to kids in medical crisis

Recently we learned that one of our patients was very ill. The kind of ill where there is nothing else to be done. CHAP has worked with this family over the years. The child holds a spot in our heart for many reasons - for his quiet nature, for his artistic talent.... We have fond memories of him painting a huge red flower years ago. It was featured in the last Art Show at the hospital. When the show came down, I gave the painting to his dad. He told me it was going to be hung in a prominent place in their living room. It made us happy knowing this.

Not long after learning that the child was terminally ill, CHAP found out that the child had a birthday coming up. Such a strange juxtaposition - to be anticipating a birthday while at the same time knowing that the end is near. The family told us the birthday was shared by a sibling as well. Wow. We offered to help them with preparations as it seemed likely they would still be in-patient.

Just a day or two before the planned birthday celebration, Maxine and I gave it our best effort to decorate the Play Room. We made a banner featuring the names of both siblings. The family, though typically very private, accepted our offer to help transform the Play Room into their party headquarters. Maxine made a huge and elaborate gold crown to place on the bulletin board. I wrote in my best cursive, "You are royalty," to keep with the theme the family had told us about. Just as Maxine was taping a lovely image of a tiered birthday cake to the child's door, another mom declared, "My son's birthday is on Sunday!"  

At this point, it was 4 pm on a Friday. The other child and his family were new to the unit, but also fantastic. We just couldn't deny him a little fanfare, too, in honor of his birthday. So Maxine and I dug our heels in and started focusing on the new boy. We did not want to be guilty of playing favorites. The minutes flew by and we were hustling. At 5 pm (when CHAP is usually starting to clean up), I laughed and said to Maxine, "Good thing we have a lot of years of art school between the two of us!"

With some scrambling and a little sweat on our brow, we got it done. All three children were fussed over. At 5:15 pm, Maxine and I did a version of Twister to get the huge crown - loaded with still-wet glitter glue and plastic gems - up and on to the bulletin board. It brought us a little closer indeed!

The following week, the Child Life Specialist, Susan, pulled me and Maxine aside. She told us that early that morning the child passed away. Our hearts went out to this dear family. Susan, in her grace, reminded us that the suffering is over for the child. The family was still sitting with the child in the room when we arrived on the floor at 12:30 pm. The beautiful birthday cake picture was still on the patient's door. A painting I created for the child weeks ago with a rainbow on it and "Hello, friend!" was still there too. Now there are two new signs on the door: "No Visitors" and "Please Do Not Disturb", in large black Sharpie. There's no gold paint or glitter glue involved. It's hard knowing that the patient has slipped away but that his body is still in there. Of all things, Super Heroes arrive on the floor so there is excitement in the hallway. The dichotomy is surreal. Three adults dressed up as various Super Heroes (Iron Man, Wonder Woman and Superman) visit each of the patients. His room is passed over with Susan effortlessly steering them accordingly. They give gifts and bring smiles to so many patients. Time keeps moving on the unit. The show goes on.

When I leave at 5:30 pm, the family is still sitting with their child. It is a solemn moment to pass that door. I give a quiet goodbye to them.

At 6:45 pm, Maxine sees what none of us wants to see. They are wheeling the child out of his room and off the floor. She tells me later that it's handled quickly and quietly with an expert level of discretion.  he is able to offer our sympathies to the father and give him a hug. Remarkably, the artwork goes home with the family. Maxine says the boy was whisked away in a bed with a canopy of crisp white sheets, like a boat sailing out to sea.  Like royalty.

Links:

• http://chappdx.org