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Doctor reveals major life regret of patients on their deathbed. It’s often overlooked.

“Take the picture.”

Photo credit: Canva

Doctor reveals patients' often overlooked deathbed regret.

Thinking about death is kind of a bummer. Nobody excitedly tells a friend that they're dying or throws a will-writing party, though come to think of it, what a great way to organize your final wishes while blasting early 2000s club music and sipping on sangrias. Note to self: Plan will-writing brunch.

But seriously, thinking about death is uncomfortable and a little scary, so it's understandable that it's not on everyone's "things to do today" list. Sadly, it's part of life and, unsurprisingly, many people die with regrets. The regrets can range from not making the move to Colorado at 25 to turning down the sweet kid from math class that asked you to prom. Hospice and palliative care doctor Kathy Zhang cares for people at the end of their lives on a daily basis and she reveals the biggest regret that haunts patients on their deathbeds.

According to Dr. Zhang, this regret isn't just felt by the dying patient, but also those close to them. She writes in her caption, "I didn’t think I would hear this end of life regret as often as I do: people wish they had taken more photos of themselves. People realize at the end of life that photos are snapshots of memories frozen in time, and that each one carries stories and emotions."

end of life, deathbed, regrets, thoughts, lifeSick Season 11 GIF by One ChicagoGiphy

As technology developed into people owning a supercomputer that fits in their pockets and the palms of their hands, society's views around picture taking has also shifted. On one hand you have people insisting that people simply "enjoy the moment" when they're out with loved ones and stop photographing or recording everything. On the other, you get the instantaneous nature of photographs now.

When the only way to take photos was on film, you had to wait for the photos to be developed and hope that one of them looked kind of okay. Now that photos are instantly visible, people can see themselves essentially in real time so there's plenty opportunities to scrutinize every possible angle of one's face. These photos are also usually promptly uploaded to social media, which isn't known for it's benevolently kind nature. Gone are the days when someone would have to physically come to your home to rummage through photo albums and bins to see you in a bathing suit on your family vacation to the beach.

beach, photos, photo opps, real time, real life, Beach Day Summer GIFGiphy

But the things that are lost along with the slow process of developing film are the memories captured with the people no longer walking the earth. Upworthy shared a photo of a woman who asked to be photoshopped to cover her arms and change the color of her shirt due to her own critiques of her body. Dr. Zhang read some of the comments highlighted by Upworthy from the post, and paused one that stood out to her the most.

"I have barely any pictures of me, for this exact reason. At 41, diagnosed with terminal cancer. Now I'm taking all the pictures, but the girls will really only have pictures of their dying mom, not their healthy one. I have few regrets but, not taking or sharing pictures because I was unhappy with my looks, is absolutely one," the mom writes.

The regret around not having enough photos isn't one that stays only with the dying person. It's a regret that ripples out onto your loved ones who would give everything they could to have more pictures of the person they're now missing.

Dr. Zhang then relays a story of a former patient, saying, "I had a patient once who was in her forties dying and her husband was showing me pictures. The[re] were a few pictures that he had of her a year prior on their vacation in the Caribbean. And she was on a catamaran and her hair was flying everywhere and she was gorgeous. She was stunning. And he said, 'I always thought she was so beautiful and she never wanted to take pictures. What am I supposed to look at now that she's gone?' So please, take the pictures. The people who truly love you just want more of you, no matter what you look like."

The sentiment Dr. Zhang expresses in the video is felt by those in the comments with one person writing, "I felt this. I hate my body and taking pictures. But when my dad died, I had no recent pictures of the two of us. Now, whenever someone asks for a picture of me or with me, I do it. If they love me as is, I can too."

Another says, "Thank you for this. My wonderful Mom died of Alzheimer’s in 2013. I post tributes to her on her birthday, Mother’s Day & the anniversary of her passing each year. I include pictures of her especially so her grandkids who were babies when she was sick can get to see what a vibrant, joyful person she was. But… I have only a precious few pictures of her save for a few formal group shots. Because of this I now make a point to be in photos."

One grieving daughter writes, "My Mom was beautiful. Dad took a portrait photography class & needed to take pictures. She hated having her picture taken, but let him. About 3 years after that - at 44 she died. I've always been grateful for those pictures. I always offer to let the photographer get in the picture & take pictures of them with their family & friends."

loss, family, mourning, photos, memory, loved onesmourning GIFGiphy

Someone else chimes in with gratitude, saying, "Thank you. I have never been a picture person, even as a child. I will do better. The pictures are not for.me but for my children and their children. Thank you."

It may be uncomfortable at first to jump into taking more pictures, but the more you do it, the easier it will become. With selfie sticks, affordable tripods, and built-in photo timers, people can easily set up photos of themselves. So, if you're worried about being on the other end of the camera, remember Dr. Zhang's advice–take the pictures.

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When Christine Powers was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1995, she took it in stride.

No one would have blamed her if she had complained, but that wasn't her way.

Christine in New York City. All photos via Gerry Powers, used with permission.

It was the same thing when Christine was diagnosed with malignant skin cancer in 2000.

Even when the cancer reappeared later, seven years after being cancer-free, she kept her composure. That time, the cancer had spread to her brain. After multiple operations and a multi-year battle, it was clear the cancer was terminal, so her family opted to get Christine hospice care.

For anyone not familiar with it, the term "hospice" can seem like it carries some mysterious and scary connotations, but it actually refers to a type of medical and emotional care for people in the last stages of a terminal illness. It helps them and their families manage the end of life with as much compassion as possible by focusing on the quality of life instead of continuing often painful treatments to prolong it.

Samantha Lee is one of the hospice aids who helped care for Christine in her last years. 

"Christine was the youngest patient I ever had," Samantha says. "I was in love with that family so much."

The Powers family.

Hospice nurses and aides try to ensure a patient isn't in pain and help them — as much as possible — live their final days with dignity.

When Samantha helped take care of Christine, she came to the house five days a week, four hours at a time. She would cook, wash clothes, run errands, talk with Christine, and then work with her to try to keep her energy and mood up. She helped her do some exercises, and she encouraged her to do one major project a day to keep her spirits up.

"Our home aides knew Christine really, really well," Gerry Powers, Christine's husband, fondly recalls.

Gerry and Christine Powers.

And they were with her until the end, making her as comfortable as possible and the family as cared for as possible.

"You can be intellectually prepared for a loss, if someone in your life is declining," Gerry says. "But I don't think you’re ever really emotionally prepared when it happens. That’s the thing."

Samantha says people's eyes get big when she tells them she's a hospice worker, caring for patients at the end of their lives.

"They'll say, 'Oh, you’re a hospice aide? Wow, must be hard. Why do you like that?'" she mimics over the phone.

But you can tell by her voice just how much she loves her job. She says she's grateful that she can be there to help the patients and their loved ones through this difficult time.

"[This job] changed me around," she says. "It made me more soft on the inside, more compassionate and humbled."

One thing Samantha has learned from her work is the importance of having conversations about death and dying early on.

It's not an easy thing to do, but talking openly about death can bring some comfort to the end of life.

Especially in Western countries, talking about death is kind of taboo and invokes anxiety and fear in many of us. But if a loved one dies without ever having shared their end-of-life wishes, it can add extra stress and confusion during crisis mode.

"You have one family member that feels that this is not the way to live, that [the loved one] should go," says Samantha. "Then you have the other family member that wants to hold on."

She says that if people start conversations about what they want when they get to the end, then it shouldn't be a problem when the time actually comes. Family members will know exactly what they need to do and be able to spend more time focusing on their loved one and taking care of themselves.

Gerry and Christine.

Samantha says that her work as a hospice worker has also given her a new perspective on life and death.

"I look at life much different," she says.

"It really doesn't make sense to be so angry and have a lot of hatred in your heart because nobody knows when their time is up."

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Kids at this summer camp go in heartbroken but come out stronger than ever.

'There isn't a simple recipe for grief.'

Liz Eddy was only 9 years old when she lost her father to cancer, but it wasn't until she reached college that she finally let herself grieve.

"I pretty much ignored it completely and tried to go back to normal life," said Eddy. "There isn't a simple recipe for grief."

Over time, of course, grief snuck up on her, and she had to face it. That's when she heard about Experience Camps — weeklong not-for-profit summer camps designed to help kids cope with the death of a loved one, free of charge.

Experience Camps campers with dog mascot. All photos courtesy of Experience Camps.

The camps were started back in 2009 by Sara Deren, whose husband ran Camp Manitou, a boys' camp in Maine. That first summer they had 27 campers, and now they have almost 400 in three different locations across the country.

Eddy volunteered to be a counselor at Experience Camps back in 2013, and she now serves on the camp's board of directors. Like 90% of the campers, she simply can't stay away.

Experience Camps give all the kids (and counselors) the chance to deal with their emotions and grief in their own time, in their own way, while surrounded by other people who truly "get it."

"Most of the kids they know haven't had someone close to them die, and it makes them feel different and alone," wrote Deren in an email. "Being at a camp like this shows them that they are not alone, gives them an opportunity to talk about their person who died, and release some of the weight they carry around with them."

Campers hanging out.

In everyday life, there's often a lot of pressure to keep grief hidden, Eddy notes, even when around family members who are experiencing it too. "[The campers] don’t want their families to hurt anymore," Eddy explained.

At Experience Camps — where there's an underlying understanding that everyone is struggling with similar feelings day-to-day — that pressure seems to melt away.

When the campers aren't working through their grief, it's also just a great camp filled with summer activities and lifelong friendships.

Human pyramids are always fun.

And there's nothing better than bouncy water toys.

One of the boys camps during College League (like color war).

Anyone who's been to camp knows how quickly bonds can form there. Whether kids are doing mundane things, like brushing their teeth, or exciting things, like learning to water ski, camp friends become their second family. For kids who've experienced a great personal loss, their camp family is often the only group of people with whom they feel comfortable being completely vulnerable.

Eddy recalled one instance were she saw a bunch of boys having a great time on stand-up paddleboards. They told her later that the excursion prompted them to go back to their bunks and show each other pictures of the family members they lost over laughter and tears. The boys ended up a whole lot closer for it.

The camps emphasize that the best way to cope with loss is often through finding a balance between grief and joy.

"It's OK to grieve for someone and still find happiness in life," Deren wrote over email.

The camp offers sharing circles where campers can talk openly about their feelings with clinicians and share memories of lost loved ones, but that's not the only place for "breakthrough moments." These moments are just as likely to occur during a rousing basketball game or while walking through a field after a bonfire.

"You just don’t know when [grief is] going to come out, but the most beautiful thing is everyone is open and aware and ready to listen,” said Eddy.

Camper and counselor on luau night.

One night, Eddy was walking back to her bunk after the final bonfire of the week — a time when many kids finally open up — with a 9-year-old girl who had been closed off most of the week ... until that very moment.

"She looks up at me and says, 'I didn’t cry,'" Eddy recalled. "I started to go into mom mode saying, 'No. it’s okay! You don’t have to cry. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything!' And she stopped me and said, 'No, but you don’t understand. I feel her. I feel my mom in my heart.' And we both immediately just start crying in the middle of this field."

At the end of the summer, campers leave Experience with the tools they need to continue working through their feelings as they grow into adulthood and to help others do the same.

Remembrance stones for people who've passed.

Campers learn there's no one magic way to get through grief, that everyone processes it in their own unique way, and that the feelings that go along with it are going to change over time. They leave knowing there will be great days and terrible days, but that they've got a support system that will always be there for them when they need it most.

It comes down to a story the counselors tell the campers about an invisible string: Even though they can't see it, this string ties all the campers and counselors of Experience together and acts as a constant reminder they are never alone.

Check out a video on Experience Camps here:

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