Solace in the rose garden
photo: Fred LeeSherri Gilmour in the rose garden.
For the previous three years, Hunter had suffered from a rare disease, severe aplastic anemia, that required weekly blood and platelet transfusions. After many unsuccessful attempts at treatments ranging from chemotherapy to an assortment of holistic therapies, we were left with no choice but a bone marrow transplant.
The doctors said they had found a donor who was a very close match for Hunter, but they were clear about the risks involved: side effects and the chance that Hunter might not survive. We went ahead.
Eight days after the transplant, Hunter was taken to the intensive care unit, where he remained for almost two months. His kidneys and liver shut down and the doctors were preparing me for the worst.
That’s when I found the flowers. Just outside of the hospital is the most amazing rose garden with a wide selection of roses. All are staked with their names engraved, and to my good fortune, they were in full bloom. It was this rose garden, along with my daily runs and walks, that got me through the darkest days of my life. As Hunter’s life was slipping away, I found refuge in the rose garden.
When I was there, I was surrounded by the most amazing feeling of love.
I could see and smell God in each and every rose. In my mind, they were not just flowers anymore. God had breathed healing powers into them. They were my secret weapons that shielded and protected Hunter. Their names, beauty and heavenly smells filled me daily with hope and renewed faith.
The name of each variety became a prayer, a wish for healing energy to be sent to my son. Roses like “Remember Me” were my constant reminder that God was in charge and would not forsake me. With the rose “Mellow Yellow,” I visualized that Hunter’s blood-red urine was returning to normal. “Breath of Life” was the rose that cleared the blood from his throat so that he could breathe again, while “Whisper” represented the faint sounds of his voice that gave me hope.
“Eureka” was our first sign that the transplant was working. On the day we left the hospital, it was “Betty Boop” that sang out to me. She is a rose that looks just like her name, and I never walked by her without a smile. On the day of our departure, I couldn’t stop smiling.
There were so many roses that spoke to me and caused an awakening in my life like nothing I had ever known.
I will forever be grateful to the hands and hearts of the gardeners at City of Hope who had the foresight to surround patients and caregivers with such beauty amid what could otherwise be a nightmare to live through.
One year later, I have just finished planting my own rose garden. I took great care in picking out just the right roses. Like Hunter, who is just now spreading his new wings and going off to college, the roses are beginning to show new foliage.
Today, I planted another rose; this time, it was in honor of the view we could see just outside our hospital room. It’s called “Sunset Celebration.”
I believe our story is a testimony to the wonderful care we received, not just through the caring doctors and nurses, but from the whole staff, who may not get the attention they deserve. Thank you.