Cameras in healthcare settings are a tricky thing. For us as healthcare workers, we must be mindful of HIPAA and our individual setting policies. Patient privacy must always be protected. But what do we do when patients want a photo of us? Some institutions do not allow this, while others are more relaxed in policy. To me, there is something special when a patient wants a photo with you. It’s another reminder that you have made such an impact on them that they don’t ever want to forget you. When you bond with a patient and their family, this small gesture can make you feel like you are a part of the family. After all, it is you that has been with them during possibly one of the most vulnerable moments in their life. It reminds me of a young patient who I sent off for brain surgery who wanted a photo with me before he was wheeled down for surgery. I had taken care of this inspirational young man many times before. We took our photo, I signed his helmet that he wore to protect his fragmented skull, and quickly sent him off. He came back, but only to be taken off life support a day later. To this day I still wonder about that last photo. Perhaps it is a memory for someone. Perhaps not.

I remember when my grandmother was in the hospital dying of cancer. Over her last 6 months, she had become emaciated, had a tracheostomy and a feeding tube and was at the point that the only time she got out of bed was to use the bedside commode. To us, she was still the same person, just thinner than normal. After all, my grandmother still had full range of motion and was still neurologically intact. As family, it was hard for us to see the toll that the cancer had taken because we had witnessed the decline over a period of time. We saw her every day. Now when I look back at those old photos, I can’t help but kick myself. She hated having her photos taken. I remember she would roll her eyes and give that look. You know exactly the type of look I am talking about. It’s that same look that she would give when she was disappointed at us for spilling something on the carpet, or when we made her late to church. I remember how we would coax her to just smile as we would lean in next to her frail body and hold her. She only obliged for the camera because she knew it would make us happy. It was truly a selfless act.

We wanted to treasure every single moment. Right? I mean, how could we not? We wanted to capture anything we could on film.

What we captured on film haunts me. I see smiles that are not genuine. We captured eyes that screamed of frustration and pain from her body. We captured a stark white woman who looked so much more ill than I can remember. Yes, these are the last few photos I will ever have with my grandmother, but the woman next to me in the photos is not the woman I remember. I remember a dainty and polished woman who was the life of the party. I remember her as the dancer, always smiling, tooting horns and shaking things up. She was a go-getter and possibly the strongest woman I have ever had the pleasure to know.

My point in writing all of this, is that in retrospect, as much I wanted to treasure the last few weeks we had with her, some things are better left in our memories. We need to remember our loved ones for how they lived, not how they died. As a nurse, I hate when family members take photos of their dying loved ones. Sometimes it is okay, but often times it is not. I work in a setting where people are extremely ill and their faces are often times disfigured or their dignity has been stripped of them in one way or another. It pains me when people take photos of our patients as we use overhead lifts to move them from their bed to the toilet. Or when their faces are swollen and wrapped in bandages like a mummy. No one wants to be photographed like that. And for heavens sake please do not post it on social media. Some things should be left for private eyes only. Would you want photos like this to be placed on the internet?

On the flip side, sometimes photos are good. They help tell stories or communicate signs of improvement of a patient. They help rally support that often times patients desperately need. Just please, before you take a photo, ask them. Ask them if it is okay if you take their photo. They may not want a shred of evidence of what they went through and it is their right to have a say. I know it can be hard to respect their wishes especially if they say no, but just think if you would want to be remembered like that. Really recognize that in a hospital, they have little control over what is going on with them, and maybe saying yes or no to a photo is a bigger deal to them because they can be autonomous over one aspect of their life.

So let us focus on taking photos of the moments we are living. When we are truly alive.

And even then, take photos sparingly. Instead, try to record the precious moments deep in your soul and keep them safe and guarded along with the emotions and sounds and smells attached to them. Memories are truly the most sacred treasures we can possess. They give us the fuel to keep fighting when life gets hard or they can bring us peace, comfort or happiness when we need it most.