Ronald McDonald House of Dallas

12.01.10
Encouragement, Strength, and Hope for the Journey

If you want to truly understand what the Ronald McDonald House does for families, read this emotional and moving Caring Bridge post written by Kathleen Herman, whose son Anthony was born with a congential heart defect. She shares her families' perspective of what the Ronald McDonald House has meant to them over the years and the amazing impact it has had on their lives.

"How in the world did we get here?"

This was my thought as I entered the Ronald McDonald House in Atlanta for the first time. Anthony was a newborn fighting for his life at the hospital nearby and I was recovering from a c-section. I was weary and overwhelmed, still grappling with the events which had led us there. Even though I knew about the House and the fine work they did, I never thought we would be in a position to need it. Life can turn on a dime.

When my in-laws and I sat down to dinner on our first night there, I remember feeling quite disconnected from what was going on around me. It was as if I was in a thick fog. My mother-in-law, who admirably hasn't met a stranger, soon began a conversation with a woman at a table nearby. Her daughter had Down's syndrome with an accompanying heart defect for which she had already had one surgical repair and was awaiting another.

I watched her little girl for awhile and eventually joined the conversation, chatting with the mother about Anthony's diagnosis. She was optimistic and encouraging and her child, happy and active, was a striking contrast to the view I had at the hospital of rows and rows of babies and small children, hooked to machines and a tangle of tubes, appearing close to death.

I heard this child's success story and witnessed it at the same time. Gradually, I felt the fog begin to lift. Without knowing it, that little girl and her brave mother gave this teary, deer-in-the-headlights mom a vision of what was possible--of what could be for my little boy. It was a pivotal moment and one I will never forget.

A few years later, when Anthony's medical care was transferred to Dallas, the Ronald McDonald House there became our new "home-away-from-home." To say it has been simply a place to eat, sleep, and shower would be a gross understatement. It has been a physical, financial, and emotional lifeline during some of our most difficult days. On a purely practical level, the Ronald McDonald House is a place to eat, sleep, and shower. But it is so much more.

A family who stays at the house in Dallas will have a private hotel-style bedroom, a private bath, and three meals a day plus unlimited snacks and coffee. While there, they will have access to a shuttle to area hospitals; TVs and DVD players; computers with internet access; a small movie theater; an exercise room; laundry facilities; a library filled with books and DVDs; a prayer room; a game room with cabinets full of games; a playroom for young children; a pool and video game room for teenagers; a piano; a schoolroom for homework or onsite tutoring; a prayer labyrinth; a meditation garden; an outdoor playground; and a 25 cent coke machine. No need is left unmet.

Meals are provided by community service groups, churches, or individuals who either donate food to be prepared by the house staff or, more commonly, come to the house to cook and serve the meal themselves. Outside groups and individuals also provide other activities and services: haircuts, craft projects for children, movie nights—complete with drinks and popcorn—Healing Hounds, and tickets to amusement parks, local performances and sporting events. Sometimes national and local celebrities will make appearances. No wonder our kids love to go there.

But in case I have given you the impression that staying at the RMH is like a vacation, let me clarify. It is a gorgeous building and it is a fun and relaxing environment in which to stay, but the reality is, if you have been granted permission to stay there, your child or your sibling or your grandchild is sick. The amenities, though pleasing, can't erase the concerns that brought you there in the first place—they merely distract you from them while making your stay away from home a bit easier.

For most families with chronically ill children, medical costs can quickly skyrocket, but when the medical care has to happen away from home, the extra expenses—meals, lodging, and travel—can often take a considerable toll on their already strained finances. Financially speaking, the Ronald McDonald House has saved us. The list I made of all that is available at the House may make it appear to be quite expensive to stay there, but that is not the case: the cost of a one-night stay at the RMH of Dallas is a mere $15 donation per family—obviously, much less than the cost of a hotel, even with a medical discount. And don't forget, all meals are included. Thanks to individual and corporate donations, as well as fundraising efforts, the RMH is able to keep the cost to the families low, easing the families' financial burdens and allowing them to focus completely on the care of their children. It would be impossible to calculate the amount of money we have saved by staying at the House. Trust me. It is significant.

Aside from meeting our physical needs and easing our financial concerns, our experiences at the RMH have given us a view of the world we would not have had if we had stayed in a regular hotel during Anthony's medical events. Wheelchairs, visible deformities, and little bald heads are a common sight around the house. Our children have seen, met, and played with children who are fighting a variety of medical battles: cancer, lost limbs, brain injuries, genetic disorders, and, like Anthony, congenital heart defects. Ray and I have spoken with countless families over the years, often over steaming cups of coffee, hearing their children's stories and sharing our own—never leaving without a more grateful heart, a longer prayer list, and the realization that, no matter what we've been facing, it could always be worse.

Some might assume that the environment at the RMH must be quite depressing with all that sickness concentrated in one place. I won't lie. It can be. But if you let it—and we have—the RMH can be a place to draw refreshment, encouragement, strength, and hope for your journey.

Although our entire family has benefited from the work of the RMH, I am most grateful for what it has meant to Anthony. It has been a bright light in his life as far back as he can remember. Trips to Dallas for him almost always involve some sort of pain or fear—tests, pokes, and procedures. But the RMH has given him a needed and welcome reprieve from all of these things, a chance to enjoy himself amidst appointments and hospital stays, mingling with others for whom medical battles are a normal part of life. He almost never wants to go to the hospital, but he always wants to go to the Ronald McDonald House. It is, for him, a place of joy.

So now, when I walk through the front doors of the House, I no longer wonder how in the world we got there, I simply thank God that they are there.

God bless the Ronald McDonald House.

Kathleen Herman