Meals “at Your request” - Johns Hopkins Children's Center

n sept. 21, 2009, Bridget Diveley’s breathing suddenly
became heavy, which prompted a quick visit to her
pediatrician, then to the local ED, and finally to Johns
Hopkins Children’s Center where her parents heard
the last thing they wanted to hear—their daughter
might need a heart transplant. Debbie Long knew even
before her daughter Emily’s birth that multiple cystic lesions
had invaded her brain, a condition that would require repetitive surgeries
throughout her life. Indeed, the now-18-year-old has undergone more than
90 operations by renowned pediatric neurosurgeon Ben Carson. A surgical
procedure shortly after birth delayed for six years the liver transplant Sam
Tiemann would eventually need to live, but during that time he and his
parents spent countless hours, days and weeks in the Children’s Center,
which had become their second home.
These parents, like many parents of pediatric
patients at the Children’s Center,
came in crisis, fought through turbulent
times, returned time and again for followup
treatment. They knew of Hopkins long
history of success in treating complex, lifethreatening
conditions, and they met physicians
and nurses committed to providing
the best possible outcome for their child.
They felt they were in good hands—the
best hands—and were grateful for the continuing
care their child received.
But for all the compassion and clinical
expertise the hospital contained, the
building itself—the Children’s Medical
& Surgical Center, or CMSC—did little
to lighten their emotional burden. The
CMSC, a linear tissue-box of a building
erected in the early 1960s, served practical
clinical purposes quite well for almost
a half-century. But over the years the brick
and mortar began to lose its luster and
imagination, freshness and uniqueness, its
personality—aesthetic dynamics today’s
hospital designers say create and sustain
human connections and help heal. The
clinical staff more than made up for any
design deficits in the building, but both
families and staff knew the Children’s
Center could be much more with a new
structure and style, which led to a new
16 HOPKINS CHILDreN’S | hopkinschildrens.org
building—The Charlotte R. Bloomberg
Children’s Center—an artful design and a
healing environment.
“A growing body of evidence shows that
you can create a hospital environment that
connects with patients and families during
a medical crisis, reduces their stress
and anxiety, and enhances their health
and wellbeing in a number of ways,” says
Pediatrics Administrator Ted Chambers.
“That’s what we set out to do through the
art and design of this building.”
One of the early goals was to make the
new building approachable, but how do
you do that with a structure twice the size
of its predecessor? With, building designers
decided, a curved façade covered by a
Monet rainbow of paneled window boxes
marked by countless brush strokes in the
glass known as frit—the creation of installation
artist Spencer Finch. The resulting
effect is a translucent and shimmering
curtain wall that constantly reflects and refracts
the ever changing light of day.
“From the beginning we were thinking
about glass as an analog for water, how
glass and water behave in similar ways, and
what we could do with the glass so that
it’s always changing,” says Finch. “Also,
it’s a big building and it can be intimidating,
but water has a certain softness and
A growing body
of evidence shows
that you can
create a hospital
environment that
connects with
patients and
families during
a medical crisis,
reduces their
stress and anxiety,
and enhances
their health and
wellbeing in a
number of ways.
– PeDIATrICS
ADmINISTrATOr
TeD CHAmBerS