The young woman on the reception desk looked like she should be in the movies.
'Down to the end, turn left and you'll see a door on the left.'
Hospital corridors are much the same. Polished to mirror and sparkle. The sort of thing you come to expect. You never see them being cleaned! I wonder when the army of mopsters come and go?
This corridor was razzle-dazzle clean.
There was the door. On the left. Unassuming red with panels of glass. Press the button to open. To step through is to step into another world.
A world beyond hospital health-n-safety posters. Away from fluorescent tubes, plugs with 'checked' stickers. Furniture that is wipe clean and practical.
Away from the jangle, the crash, the rattle, the chatter of hospital come-and-go.
Step through; you find sharp shapes and curves. Forget high ceilings, the whiff of institution, clashing colours, competing signs, warnings, hazards and notice boards with their blur of messages.
Welcome to pastel, texture, elegance... homeliness.
Welcome to Magnolia House.
Deep in the labyrinth that is Birmingham Children's Hospital, cleverly tucked into what used to be a basket-ball court, next to the 'magic garden' is the single story, sweeping elegance of Magnolia House.
Cool and stylish enough to be a weekend retreat, it manages to block out the Victorian Offices on its borders and turn inwards, to a courtyard of light and hope.
This domestic-haven, five-star retreat is a refuge for the most troubled. This is where the BCH does its toughest work. Does what most of us could never imagine ourselves doing.
This oasis of calm and care is where families facing their most challenging, life changing moments can close the door on a private space and reflect, talk, stay and grieve.
The loss of a relative or loved one can be devastating. I know. However expected. The loss of a child is too difficult to contemplate.
Working in palliative care for children and support for their families must redefine draining. Breaking bad news in an office, on a ward or dealing with catastrophe in what passes as a relative's quiet room, turns a difficult job into unbelievable task.
It gets worse when parents are left alone. Their only option but to go; to the car park or the bus station. Maybe to Costa on the concourse.
Magnolia House changes all that. Young patients can be moved into the house with its proper kitchen and sitting room, to meet their journey's end in the cradle of their family.
Some, for the first time will be able to turn their face to the sky, feel the sun, be outdoors in a private garden. Natural.
Quiet conversations in quiet rooms that manage to be private, intimate but light. Natural.
Natural is the key word. Hospitals are not natural. Side-rooms with stickers to tell you the hot water is.... hot, are not.
Health and safety, regulation, restrictions have screwed the humanity out of hospitals. Squeezed the life from them.
In the depths of death, Magnolia House has life.
Magnificent Magnolia House... there are too many backs to pat, too many people to thank, too many fundraisers to shake them by the hand and just enough people who have been brave enough to throw away the rule book.
Magnolia House has set new standards in palliative care. Not for children, not for families, not for Birmingham, not for England. Magnolia House is world-class.
Raised the bar heaven high.
Through it all there was one person who had their feet on the ground and their eye on the vision.
Someone who didn't see a basket ball court; they saw a whole new game.
