When I was a child, we had an old, tattered quilt that was named "The Sick Quilt." It only got used when someone (usually a child) was ill. I suppose the rationale was that it did not matter if someone threw up on it. I remember that it was blue and white cotton calicoes and had square patches, but I don't remember the pattern. I also don't know who made it. I don't think that it was my Mom; I guess I could ask her. I loved it. It was so soft from wear. I associated it with being warm, tucked in, and cared for.
Now I have a little kid. We also have a sick quilt. It is the first quilt I ever made. I was 16. It is a trip around the world. It was pastel to begin with, and now has faded to tints. It has a rips and some spots where the fabric has worn away. At some point I tried patching it with applique hearts. I don't seem to be motivated to repair it, and pastels are no longer my favorites, but it is still special to me.
Luckily, the kid does not get sick very often. She did get sick this past week with a fever that came and went and came back again. Now the fever is gone, but she has a rash... She is snuggled up on the quilt now. I love that this old quilt still has purpose and brings comfort.