Today: my most depressing photo ever

[John Camp]

My wife is in the hospital, which is attached to a children's hospital, and I'd brought the R-D1 thinking that I might go outside every once in a while and walk around the block...anyway, I walked down through a basement corridor in the children's hospital to get to an after-hours vending machine area, and came across three square frames on the wall, each studded with little white ceramic plaques, with room for more...so it was a little like a checkerboard. Each of the plaques, as it turned out, was a personalized memorial to a child who'd died in the hospital; stuff like happy-face drtawings andd memories. I was struck by it, and took a shot without thinking, and when I got home I put today's stuff up on the computer and the photograph struck me as absolutely brutal. Or maybe the memorial is brutal. I can't figure out which. But it just made you want to sit here and cry.

Anybody else take a photo that does that to you?

JC

 

[yossarian]

John, I suppose the closest I've come was while I was in DC the summer of '87 and
there was a gathering of Vietnam vets at "the wall". I never stopped shooting, except to make eye contact indicating I was seeking permission before tripping the
shutter. There are several which stay with me, but the one which came to mind
was an Army Ranger, in a wheelchair. He had lost both legs, but none of his pride
or honor. He looked directly at me as I shot, and for a second we connected. He
was and still is a stranger and will never see the photo. But I hope something registered on my face to show how deeply privileged I felt to have that moment.

Fred

 

[wlewisiii]

Yes, I know that kind of photograph...

I stopped one cold winter's day about a year ago at a roadside memorial. The usual stuffed animals and wilted flowers were there, but there was also a brass plate with a photograviered image of a teenaged boy and a bit of biographical information on it. As I was standing there, in the cold wind, another car pulled out of the nearest driveway, a good 1000 yards down the country road, and then stopped next to mine.

The woman that got out asked if I was family. I said I wasn't but I just couldn't ignore this spot. She explained that she was a local EMT and, living where she did, was the first responder on the scene. She told me the story of that summer's day a couple of years before and I was left just feeling even colder than before.

That day's photos are like that for me.

William

 

[dostacos]

My wife is in the hospital, which is attached to a children's hospital, and I'd brought the R-D1 thinking that I might go outside every once in a while and walk around the block...anyway, I walked down through a basement corridor in the children's hospital to get to an after-hours vending machine area, and came across three square frames on the wall, each studded with little white ceramic plaques, with room for more...so it was a little like a checkerboard. Each of the plaques, as it turned out, was a personalized memorial to a child who'd died in the hospital; stuff like happy-face drtawings andd memories. I was struck by it, and took a shot without thinking, and when I got home I put today's stuff up on the computer and the photograph struck me as absolutely brutal. Or maybe the memorial is brutal. I can't figure out which. But it just made you want to sit here and cry.

Anybody else take a photo that does that to you?

JC

why don't you go ahead and post it.

my hospital has lots of stuff on the walls done by the kids, [children only hospital] it is amazing what the others will be inspired by.

In the Rehab hallway we have hand prints all over the place, staff and patients, most are normal some only have a few fingers, others have some serious deformites or no hands at all, BUT none of the kids have said they did NOT want to "print the wall" they ask when is THEIR TURN to add to the history of the Rehab dept.

 

[david b]

I spent 5 days in the Lower 9th Ward in New Orleans about 4 weeks ago.

I could not believe what I was seeing. I could not believe this was in the USA.

It was hard to focus, both mentally and physically.

 

[Honu-Hugger]

Posting this photo last summer was cathartic for me because after reading the kind comments that were left by fellow RFF members I was finally able to have a good cry over having lost my Uncle Bob. Much of the sadness was gone immediately afterwards; now I just miss him and fondly remember what a fine man he was. He underwent chemotherapy twice and both times were thought to be successful, but in each case years later the cancer returned. This time he could have undergone chemo one more time, but the odds for success were less than 9% and he decided he'd had enough. He was 87 years old, served in the US Navy during WWII and was present at D-Day; he lived a rich full life and was loved by not only his family but also his community. These injuries were sustained playing tennis which he did regularly right up until shortly before his death. It is not a beautiful picture, but it is an important one to me.

 

[Honu-Hugger]

I spent 5 days in the Lower 9th Ward in New Orleans about 4 weeks ago.

I could not believe what I was seeing. I could not believe this was in the USA.

It was hard to focus, both mentally and physically.

That must have been quite an experience; do you have photos from your trip?

 

[RML]

I prefer not to take or look at such photos. I'm a worrier by nature and can do well without depressing images, which will make me worry (or at least give me dark, depressing thoughts) more. I tend to push back those feelings when I'm confronted with such depressing situations. I can't visit people in hospital because it makes me depressed and fearful. I've been away from my wife and child for over 4 years, seeing them only for a few weeks per year, and simply realising that something could happen to either of them without me being able to visit them, attend to them, help them was one of the most depressing experiences of my life. Now that they are here with me, I want to keep as bright a mind as possible. Worrying and depressing thoughts don't help much, so I tend to go out of my way of such situations. 🙂

 

[Pherdinand]

i don't have such photos, but John, i got a wet pair of eyes even from reading your post. Dammit.

 

[Richard Black]

John,
thanks for helping me keep things in perspective. Most of the time I don't care if it greener on the other side, if you know what I mean, but remembering there are tragedies far beyond my experience, and I thank God for that, I am brought back to reality. Hard lessons in life, live as if this were you last, tell those you love that you do and do it often.

Richard

 

[kvanderlaag]

I had my mother pass away in September of 2005. During that time (about two weeks) I spent a large percentage of my waking time in a beautiful little home in the inner city which they had converted to a hospice. I was without the camera the entire time, and I'm sort of regretful of this, because it truly was a sight to behold, from just about any angle, but on the other hand, I probably wouldn't be able to look at those photos, whatever came of them.

I know the feeling, and at the same time, I don't at all.

 

[Honu-Hugger]

For me pictures of this sort are "Ying and Yang;" sad images can remind me of the good. I was recently in LA to visit with my father-in-law who is now in assisted living. Aside from the usual things one does I thought the one thing I might be able to offer him and my wife are photographs, and I'd prefer to have the pictures even if I decide to not view them than to wish I had them but to have never taken them. Strange as this may sound I look at my picture of Uncle Bob now and I usually smile because I am at peace with the good life he lived.

Brian's picture of Nikki is sad and it is a terribly unfortunate thing for Nikki and the family to have gone through, but what a joy it is to see the other pictures Brian has posted and to know Nikki is now doing well and is with loving parents that care so much for her. I suspect her emotional scars will not only heal but will form a positive part of her character over time.