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The Power of Family-Centered Care: When Support Feels Like Home


In truth, I didn’t know that George Mark Children’s House existed before a friend told me about it. When I visited, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought maybe a medical facility that felt a little less clinical. To my delight, the house was nothing like the cold, medical facilities I am used to visiting. There were hand-painted murals in each room. A family suite with a kitchen and enough beds for everyone to stay close. A warm living room with actual games, not just for show. A pool. A beautiful garden. And spaces for remembering; the stone garden and the wall filled with names. 


Everything about it felt calm and thoughtful. It didn’t feel like a place focused on illness. It felt like a place built for love, connection, and fun. It’s the kind of care most people don’t even know exists. 


What Most Families Get Instead

 

During my visit, I couldn’t help but think about the families who stayed there. What it must feel like to have a child who’s seriously ill, and to walk into a place that says, without words, “You’re not alone.” 


Most families don’t get that. They’re in and out of hospitals, surrounded by machines and rushed conversations. They try to hold themselves together in waiting rooms. They sleep in chairs. They get updates from rotating teams. Siblings tag along or stay behind. No one really asks what they need. 


What Family-Centered Care Really Means

 

At George Mark, that question is baked into everything: What do you need right now? 

Maybe it’s quiet. Maybe it’s help explaining to your other children what’s happening. Perhaps it’s not needing to explain anything at all. 


I saw rooms where a parent could sleep right beside their child all night. Not in a chair. Not for just a few hours. But really stay, the way any parent would want to. That kind of closeness was built into the design, not treated like a special request. 


I also learned that families could get time to rest in other ways. George Mark offers respite care, allowing parents to step away (go to dinner, take a walk, or have a quiet moment) and know their child is still surrounded by care.  


I learned about caregivers bringing in art supplies and therapy dogs. I heard stories about music therapists customizing songs for each child. Not to distract them, but to see them. To remind them they’re still kids. There was a deep calm in the house, but also joy. Laughter. And in the spaces built for remembrance, like the garden with engraved stones or the wall filled with names, I felt something else. Not grief, but love. 


Why This Kind of Support Is Rare 


Later, I was told that families never get a bill. Ever. That’s how it should be. No one should have to worry about paperwork while they’re taking care of their seriously ill child. 

Places like this are rare. And they don’t run on good intentions. They exist because people choose to support them. People who believe that care should feel like connection. That comfort matters. That love should show up in the details. 


Every Family Deserves This

 

Before I left George Mark, I heard they were working to expand their cancer care program. More children. More families. More of this kind of support. The kind that gives a parent space to rest, a child space to play, and a family time to just be together without fear or interruption. 


Every child deserves more than a hospital room. Every family deserves care that sees the whole of what they’re going through. At George Mark Children's House, they’ve built a place that makes that possible. We need more of that in the world. 


Please consider donating today at https://georgemark.org. 

 

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