The Healing Environment
Is what Suite Dreams are made of
By Debbie Feit
Brooke Katynski, 7, is a blur of activity as she shows a visitor her pink beaded purse, giant stuffed unicorn and collection of Hello Kitty lip gloss. "I can read to you," she says brightly as she grabs a book from her shelf. The book is the children's counting story, Good Night Sweet Butterflies, and in the deliberate voice of a child learning to read she begins, "Hush little butterflies, not another peep. It's time to find a place where you can go to sleep."
Sitting in Brooke's newly designed fantasy bedroom--where even the inside of her closet is painted pink--it's evident that this is one little girl who has found the perfect place to sleep. That's important, because not everything in her life is perfect. When she was just 5 months old, her doctors diagnosed cystic fibrosis. She has trouble breaking down and absorbing food because of the disease. In addition, her body produces a thick mucus that clogs the lungs and can lead to infections.
The room was created for her by volunteers from the Suite Dreams Project, a Michigan-based nonprofit organization that uses interior design to help children with life-threatening illnesses. When she's in her pastel hideaway, this little blond beauty can forget her medical troubles and do the things that make her an otherwise normal first-grader: listen to Shania Twain, enjoy SpongeBob and give her older brother Brennan "wedgies."
Two friends, Kay Ponicall and Kris Appleby, started Suite Dreams three years ago, starting with a little bit of karma and a lot of love. The organization brings comfort and joy to children affected by serious medical conditions by creating healing environments in homes, hospitals and communities. The rooms help to improve quality of life for the patients and their families, and in some cases can alleviate symptoms or speed recovery.
Ponicall first got the idea for Suite Dreams shortly after her son and daughter arrived; she asked her artist brother, Bill Bradley, to design their bedroom. When he created a room with a castle and forest theme, featuring a mural, Ponicall was struck by the notion of creating similar rooms for sick children. "I think the inspiration, for me, was from having two kids at once," she says. "I felt I was drinking from a full cup."
During a girlfriends' spa getaway, she shared the idea with Appleby, herself a mother of three. "My husband and I had started a private foundation," Appleby explains. "When Kay mentioned her idea, I thought, 'That is so great.' I was looking for a project to wrap my arms around."
Recruiting more of their friends as volunteer labor, Ponicall and Appleby started their first room in March 2001: an outer space-themed room for a little boy named John, stricken with cancer. The team painted constellations on the ceiling - including the star that had been named after John by NASA - and designed the room to look like the inside of a rocket. Autographed photos of astronauts hung on the walls, planet-patterned sheets outfitted John's bed and control "dials" were installed on one wall.
"Our goal was to do one room a month," says Appleby. "We've done 75 rooms in less than three years." Their volunteer corps has grown exponentially as well, now numbering in the hundreds. And they've been helped by businesses donating materials and furnishings.
Suite Dreams relies on doctors and hospital social workers to recommend which children will benefit most from a room redo - those with leukemia, for instance.
"Our patients are essentially isolated, often from six to twelve months, while their immune systems develop again," says Dr. James Ferrara, director of the Bone Marrow Transplantation Program at the University of Michigan Cancer Center. "The environment in which they are literally contained becomes so much more important. It's not just a room; it's their entire world. And Suite Dreams can literally transform their world."
Once a child is selected, Suite Dreams assembles a team of volunteers and the team leader, or "room captain," talks with the child to learn what he or she would like in a fantasy room. The volunteers have produced gardens, jungles and underwater worlds in bedrooms across metro Detroit. They've made shrines to Bob the Builder, American Girl dolls Disney Princesses and all 101 Dalmatians. Brooke's request was a room filled with her favorite things: unicorns, dolphins and butterflies.
The renovations go beyond fresh paint, curtains, new furniture and new playthings. A simple cold can have serious consequences for a child with a chronic illness, so Suite Dreams personnel check air conditioners, buy furniture that can be kept clean easily, and in some cases, even install wood floors in order to minimize dust and germs. They may also add medical equipment when necessary. For Brooke's room, they supplied an air purifier and hypoallergenic covers for her mattress, box spring and pillows.
The organization always includes the whole family in the makeover. So with the Katynski family, brother Brennan's room gets painted his favorite color green and outfitted with custom art reflecting his obsession with tractors. Mother Jill gets her garage cleaned out, the rusty dent on her truck painted and various home repairs taken care of. "Their carpenter, Doug, was like Make-a-Wish for Mommy," says Jill. "By the time the week was over he had nailed down every baseboard in the house." The whole project cost $5.000 - the average for a Suite Dreams recipient.
When Ponicall and Appleby set out to make beautiful rooms for sick children, they knew nothing of the scientific concepts of psychoneuroimmunology or environmental psychology behind what is now the growing field of healing environments. They knew by instinct what healthcare professionals and organizations such as the Center for Health Design in Pleasant Hill, California are now researching--that a pleasing environment can improve a person's health and quality of life.
Dr. Ferrara recalls a young patient who didn't take her medication. It was only after Suite Dreams designed her room that she finally started to cooperate. "She's now off her meds and her leukemia is in remission," he says.
The group doesn't work only in private homes. They've left their mark at Children's Hospital of Michigan in Detroit. Its new Visteon activity center is painted a vibrant orange and highlighted with inspirational words chosen by the patients. It boasts a disco ball, karaoke machine, DVD/VCR combo player and five computer desks with Internet access.
"The environment is part of the healing spirit," says Reverend Celia Thurston, manager, Child and Family Services at Children's Hospital. "I think of Goldilocks. The house was all prepared and she was immediately comfortable even though it wasn't her house."
Suite Dreams plans to spread its special brand of magic nationwide; an Indianapolis chapter was formed in 2002 and people in 30 states have expressed interest in forming additional chapters. "I don't think we expected the community to be so supportive and for people to endorse the concept so quickly," Ponicall says. But she notes that the volunteers are as delighted by the experience of creating the rooms as the children are by the finished product.
"When people give [money] to a charity, they don't feel the impact," says Ponicall. "But when they actually get involved, they see the impact and how they're actually giving a gift to a human being."
Her brother agrees. "I get back so much more than I give," says Bradley, who has worked on about 20 Suite Dreams rooms. "If I didn't have to make a living, this is what I would love to do everyday."
