He arrived on a small 2×2 piece of plywood with casters on all four corners, propelling himself forward with his bare hands. It wasn’t missing legs that brought him to the clinic that day, but the relentless shoulder pain he must have endured from moving himself along at ground level. Throughout his time there, he spoke very little, even when addressed directly. His quiet demeanor gave no hint of his thoughts or how he had come to be in this situation. During a brief moment between treatments, I asked if I could take his photo. He responded with nothing more than a silent nod.
Photographing at the clinic offers a rare glimpse into people at their most vulnerable—moments filled with resilience, dignity, hope, and, at times, frustration. In a place like this, even the best news can often be nothing more than confirmation of what you already suspect. Yet it’s the small, incremental moments that gradually build into something bigger. While not every problem can be solved, the human connection, the acknowledgment that your needs matter, and the willingness to provide care can make a meaningful difference.
