“A photograph is usually looked at- seldom looked into.”
-Ansel Adams
Sometimes it’s the things that are right in front of us that we just can’t see.
I’m sitting in a patient’s room in the ICU.
The patient’s family sits with me.
I’m tired.
I drift. 1/
-Ansel Adams
Sometimes it’s the things that are right in front of us that we just can’t see.
I’m sitting in a patient’s room in the ICU.
The patient’s family sits with me.
I’m tired.
I drift. 1/
A memory. I’m a kid, climbing the ladder to the high-diving board.
It didn’t seem that bad from the ground. Now I’m up top and can’t believe how high up I really am.
Everyone looks tiny.
I can’t jump. It’s too scary.
But others have jumped before me.
So I jump too. 2/
It didn’t seem that bad from the ground. Now I’m up top and can’t believe how high up I really am.
Everyone looks tiny.
I can’t jump. It’s too scary.
But others have jumped before me.
So I jump too. 2/
Sepsis. Shock. Multi-organ failure.
Sometimes there is a numbing repetition to the rhythms of the critically ill.
We do our best, small ships battered by vengeful seas.
Rocking to and fro as we clutch our rosaries.
We all unravel into the same delicate threads, someday. 3/
Sometimes there is a numbing repetition to the rhythms of the critically ill.
We do our best, small ships battered by vengeful seas.
Rocking to and fro as we clutch our rosaries.
We all unravel into the same delicate threads, someday. 3/
The ICU nurses work together so effortlessly. I’m always amazed at how they help each other.
When one of them has a patient who is becoming unstable, the rest of them seem to materialize just as they’re needed.
They’re efficient, professional.
I observe them in silence. 4/
When one of them has a patient who is becoming unstable, the rest of them seem to materialize just as they’re needed.
They’re efficient, professional.
I observe them in silence. 4/
The patient is an elderly gentleman. He has heart failure, and kidney failure, and has developed a bloodstream infection.
I hear the dreaded “multi-organ failure” and “septic shock.” Words that feel sharp on my tongue.
Jagged.
He is unconscious, sedated on a ventilator. 5/
I hear the dreaded “multi-organ failure” and “septic shock.” Words that feel sharp on my tongue.
Jagged.
He is unconscious, sedated on a ventilator. 5/
In this state he is unknowable, unresponsive, and unreachable.
But his family has put up photographs on his bedside, and on one wall of the room.
And through these photos he suddenly becomes vibrantly alive.
I stand up and move closer to the wall, so I can see... 6/
But his family has put up photographs on his bedside, and on one wall of the room.
And through these photos he suddenly becomes vibrantly alive.
I stand up and move closer to the wall, so I can see... 6/
A photo.
The elderly gentleman is much younger. He wears a military uniform, and holds himself stiffly upright.
His gaze is in the distance. His chest glitters with medals.
He looks handsome. And somewhat uncomfortable.
I sense the pomp and ceremony aren’t his thing. 7/
The elderly gentleman is much younger. He wears a military uniform, and holds himself stiffly upright.
His gaze is in the distance. His chest glitters with medals.
He looks handsome. And somewhat uncomfortable.
I sense the pomp and ceremony aren’t his thing. 7/
A photo.
The elderly gentleman is sitting with friends and family, laughing.
His face is kind. He has many stories to share and tell.
I notice how everyone seems to be smiling at him.
He draws up everyone’s attention, and gives them back happiness in return.
Fair trade. 8/
The elderly gentleman is sitting with friends and family, laughing.
His face is kind. He has many stories to share and tell.
I notice how everyone seems to be smiling at him.
He draws up everyone’s attention, and gives them back happiness in return.
Fair trade. 8/
A photo.
The elderly gentleman is a young father. His four young children are standing duly at attention in front of him. They’re dressed in their finest.
His wife stands beside him. She looks elegant, a silk shawl across her shoulders.
Everyone smiles for the camera. 9/
The elderly gentleman is a young father. His four young children are standing duly at attention in front of him. They’re dressed in their finest.
His wife stands beside him. She looks elegant, a silk shawl across her shoulders.
Everyone smiles for the camera. 9/
A photo.
Black and white. From the late 40s, early 50s. The elderly gentleman is a dashing young man, and he’s newlywed.
He’s behind the wheel of a car that looks new, with large fins. His wife sits beside him, beaming.
The world is so full of promise. 10/
Black and white. From the late 40s, early 50s. The elderly gentleman is a dashing young man, and he’s newlywed.
He’s behind the wheel of a car that looks new, with large fins. His wife sits beside him, beaming.
The world is so full of promise. 10/
A photo.
The elderly man is holding up a grandson, laughing at the chubby baby’s bewildered smile.
The baby will grow up to love and respect his grandfather. One day he will look at this photo and smile.
I know this for a fact, because it’s me in the photo. 11/
The elderly man is holding up a grandson, laughing at the chubby baby’s bewildered smile.
The baby will grow up to love and respect his grandfather. One day he will look at this photo and smile.
I know this for a fact, because it’s me in the photo. 11/
I reach out to run my fingertips along the photo.
The elderly gentleman is actually my grandfather.
The patient’s family is actually my own.
He is unresponsive, and unreachable. But he is still every bit a person and human being.
And I love him. 12/
The elderly gentleman is actually my grandfather.
The patient’s family is actually my own.
He is unresponsive, and unreachable. But he is still every bit a person and human being.
And I love him. 12/
A photo.
The elderly gentleman, my grandfather, sits in a chair beside a gravestone. The grave belongs to his beloved wife.
His “humsafar.”
His gaze is distant. Perhaps he can see her beyond the horizon.
Perhaps he can see her right now. 13/
The elderly gentleman, my grandfather, sits in a chair beside a gravestone. The grave belongs to his beloved wife.
His “humsafar.”
His gaze is distant. Perhaps he can see her beyond the horizon.
Perhaps he can see her right now. 13/
Sometimes, no matter what we do, a battle cannot be won. It is enough that we fought.
Sometimes, letting go is the victory.
Eventually we all reach the final threshold to the mystery we all will solve.
Others have jumped before us.
And we jump too.
My grandfather dies. 14/
Sometimes, letting go is the victory.
Eventually we all reach the final threshold to the mystery we all will solve.
Others have jumped before us.
And we jump too.
My grandfather dies. 14/
Almost twenty years later now, I often see patients (and their families) who put up photos in their rooms.
I make it a point to always look at these photos. Sometimes I’ll ask about them. Sometimes they make me smile. Sometimes they make me sad.
But I always look. 15/
I make it a point to always look at these photos. Sometimes I’ll ask about them. Sometimes they make me smile. Sometimes they make me sad.
But I always look. 15/
I think that really seeing someone, as a person, is often the first step to helping and caring for them.
Photos can be a window.
They can show us who we were, who we are, and perhaps who we could be again...
Photos can be a window.
They can show us who we were, who we are, and perhaps who we could be again...
