From my heart, to yours

This morning, I am compelled to write about something close to my heart.

Crumlin Hospital needs our help, guys.

If you haven’t had the need to bring your child to Crumlin, then you’re super lucky. As lots of you know, my son Michael wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the angels who work at this magical place, and this week I was reminded that when you experience what might have been, it is your duty to never forget it.

You can read about our story here and here, but today I don’t want to talk about us. I want to tell you about Crumlin, and what a special place it is.

It’s easy to drive by and see it in all its crumbling glory. To comment “Jesus, when are they going to get a new children’s hospital”. To grumble about how lax our government are.

But you see, by doing that, you’re negating the amazing miracles that are taking place within these walls, every day.

When you experience it, you can’t fail to be moved. Walk down every corridor of this institution and you will see the best of times, and the worst of times.

The world-class treatment available here is second to none. Believe me, if your child is desperately ill, you WANT them here.

But the hospital is on its knees. It needs to be able to provide the comfort and care that its patients and their family’s need.

There are the day wards, where kids with chronic illnesses spend one or two days a week having treatments. They know each nurse by name, and the nurses know them so well that they make sure that the right story book is on hand to distract them as they are having their sixty millionth canula injected into their wrists. The day wards in Crumlin can at times be mistaken for playgroups. The kids who frequent them know eachother so well that they sweep aside their drips so that they can show their friends the latest Peppa dvd that they brought with them.

The baby wards, where the tiniest of people are fighting for their lives. Where they have spent so long in hospital that their teensy glass rooms are filled with their personal belongings, and their families have forgotten what normal life can be.

The cancer ward, where half the ward shares a room. Where there are no en suites for children who need, above all else, the highest of sanitary care. Where the parents are so close, that they have set up a Facebook page so that parents of future patients can reap the benefits from their experiences.

Right now, Crumlin needs €4 million to finish off the refurbishment of their cancer and cardiac wards. This would change the lives of the children to whom Crumlin is a second home.

If you have a spare euro, please donate it. If you are thinking of doing the Flora Women’s Mini Marathon, please consider making Crumlin your designated charity. If you fancy throwing a charity table quiz, put these kids at the centre of your mind.

Life is hard, and for many of us each day is a struggle. But if you can spare a thought today, please send it with love and light to the children and families who are spending today fighting for their future.

You can read more or donate to the Fix Crumlin Campaign here.


About Ciara McDonnell

Ouch My Fanny Hurts was born in the late stages of my first pregnancy. I was sick and tired of everyone going on and ON about how brilliant it is to be pregnant, when actually, lots of it was quite crap really. And, my fanny hurt a lot. So, I decided to tell the truth about my experience while I was pregnant, and the journey I have been on since, as our little fella grew a little bigger, and we brought our second son into the world in what turned out to be fairly scary circumstances. It’s my story, and I am delighted to share it.
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2 Responses to From my heart, to yours

  1. Joanna says:

    Very touching and vital, Ciara. Obviously those working within the walls are working with their hearts.

  2. Caítríona says:

    Love & hugs, I feel similarly about Temple Street & Tallaght. It is pure rotten awful that we have to implore for help for much needed services in this day & age. x

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