Home from the Hospital

Since last September, the daughter of my friend Sally has been in Children's Hospital in Seattle. After nearly five years in remission from leukemia, she was ill again. God, it's been a terrifying seven months. She was not eligible for a bone marrow transplant. Her options were limited.

In January, it was decided she might be a good candidate for a cord blood transplant. It's been an emotional and physical roller coaster for sixty days. Two other children on her floor underwent cord blood transplant at the same time as MEB. One is dying and the other is suffering hideous side effects. MEB's course has been grueling, painful and scary, but she is making progress, slowly.

I got a call from her a couple of weeks ago asking me for a "design consult."

Now, the thing I learned when my husband died is that people want to help. And, they have no idea what would be helpful, so often, they just wait to be told what to do.  After Rick died, Sally called to see how I was doing. I was walking around slack-jawed and hollow eyed. How was I doing? Who knew? Certainly not me.

"You know," I said. "It's bad enough my husband is dead but my house is a filthy disgusting mess."

"I'll send Maria right over."

Last October, I received a similar call from Sally. "It's bad enough my daughter is in Children's but the tile is falling off the walls in my shower. Can you help?"

Nothing like giving someone something they can do. We finished her bathroom by Thanksgiving.

During our phone call, MEB said she wanted a new bedroom. She wanted it Tiffany box blue and yellow. Now, MEB has the smallest bedroom known to man. Less than 10' x 10'. And in that space she has a double bed and a closet that sticks out 21". You'd hit your head on the opposite wall if you bent over to sneeze. I mean small ~ coupled with a large list of what MEB wanted in her new room, I had my doubts.

But, undeterred and armed with my Tiffany box and a tote of paint samples, I went to Children's. Now, those of you that know, there is a thing called "dye lot". That means unless that fabric, that paint, that carpet, that wall covering comes from the same run, the colours will vary. So, my Tiffany box was slightly different than her Tiffany box blue.

Quelle surprise!

Of course, when you are sick and feel like hell, every potential setback feels like a catastrophe. After much handholding, "don't worry," "you can have exactly what you want," "let me take care of this for you," I started to work.

By the end of the week ~ success! A new bedroom for MEB and a pass from Children's so she can come home for a while. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed for a new lease on life.