As told to Jeannette Batz Cooperman
Photograph by Mark Gilliland
Sharon Frey was born in Bethlehem and grew up in Nazareth ... Pennsylvania. She’s not religious at all, these days—but she spends weeks every year in war-torn countries, rendering medical care. “I was going to get married and raise a big family,” she recalls vaguely. Instead, she got busy—first as an emergency nurse, then as a physician specializing in infectious diseases at Saint Louis University. Her first international trip was a summer at a ski resort in St. Moritz when she was 17. Her first serious trip was a month at a clinic in Belize—and she enjoyed that one even more. Zaire followed, then Kosovo, Bosnia, Azerbaijan, Tajikistan, Palestine, Sudan, Afghanistan ...
There’s a certain element of danger, which makes it very exciting. And there’s such intimacy. You are participating in people’s everyday struggle to survive.
People all have the same wants, needs, desires. At the end of the day, the world is all the same.
Danger makes people more careful, more protective. They seclude themselves a bit. But it can also draw you out for the experience: What can I do here? How far can I go?
We had a really close call in Kosovo. We were trying to break through the military lines, taking the back roads, and we drove up a hill, turned a corner and found ourselves right behind a tank. I won’t tell you what we said. We were out of there in about two seconds.
In Kosovo, we saw all these flak jackets, blue and white, United Nations colors. I said, “What are these for?” and someone said, “They’re for us, but we decided not to wear them because there are not enough for all of us.”
There’s always gunfire or little shells going off. It’s worse if you don’t hear it. You always worry about troops moving around.
The biggest thing I’m afraid of is fear. I’m afraid of being afraid.
You go into a place where people don’t get to travel, and here come all these weird-looking people from Asia and Africa and the United States. It’s good fun.
People like me who do this kind of work, we know we cannot fix the world. We pay witness, and we give people unbiased feedback.
You can see what is going on in the world if you choose to.
I believe in making your heaven on earth. People are generally good-hearted, and that good spirit, that kindness, is bigger than all of us.
Cynicism is self-protection, whether from burnout, a skepticism about the goodness of humans or a fear of being vulnerable.
What changes people’s politics is if they can somehow observe the effect of those politics on other people. That’s why I think it’s important to have as many experiences as you can.
Special Forces have two jobs: to take care of people and make sure they’re OK and to kill people. Talk about psychology.
We sleep on the floor in sleeping bags, use the toilet outside and brush our teeth in the garbage pit. That stuff doesn’t bother me.
My comfort’s not so much about the physical as the mental or emotional. What comforts me is to know that I’m not there by myself; I have friends or colleagues who would at least agree with what I’m doing.
I don’t regret not having kids, and that really bothers me. But I always feel you’re responsible for every kid. You make sure they’re not doing anything stupid; you protect them; you make sure they are having a good time.
Do I believe in love at first sight? Maybe as a teenager—but not now.
I do road racing. Our cars only go about 130 mph, though. It’s not about speed on a straightaway; it’s about getting through the turns.
I have a million things I want to do in my life, and I’m running out of time. We all are.
