An Unlikely Caregiver

I’m one of those people who will do just about anything to avoid having their picture taken. When I was a nurse, a coworker and I actually devised a pact. She would destroy any photos of me and I would return the favor.

My aversion to photography stems from a lifelong illness that disfigured my face. While I’ve undergone numerous surgeries to remove tumors and help me blend in with society, I’ve steered clear of the critical eye of the camera.

Recently a magazine sent a photographer to shoot some photos of me for a story I’d written. As I waited for him to arrive, I thought: In 10 minutes, a perfect stranger is going to know as much about your aesthetic defects as your craniofacial surgeon, Roberta. Why did you ever agree to such a thing?

But my dread of feeling different didn’t materialize. Scott, the photographer, was as sensitive to my concerns as the most compassionate health care worker. Scott had oodles of equipment, yet his finest instrument was a seeing heart. By the end of the shoot, the only way I felt different was the new hope and purpose that took place in my spirit.

Virtually anyone can be a caregiver. You may wear a stethoscope around your neck, check blood pressure, or carry a camera. But if you make room in your heart for someone who needs you, you’re a caregiver of the highest order.