The husband and wife team up there in the photo were incredibly nice and patient with me for the whole day, even when I accidently suctioned off the filling of a cavity that hadn´t set yet. It was a great and difficult day, my back was sore from leaning over, and my thumb and index finger that held the suction was tingly for weeks afterwards (it vibrates slightly as you use it), and this was after one day. They worked like this for four days, often going without a lunch break so they could see more patients.
I had sat on the bus next to the man in the photo in the morning as we both traveled to the next town over, where the brigade was situated, so when it came to explain that they wanted to remove all the teeth that were left on this upper jaw, I asked if he was going to be alright with that. He smiled, and told me not to worry, saying that he was tough. Even as rotten away as they were, it wasn´t exactly easy to remove the four teeth he still had, and I winced as I looked on.
Later, as we sat waiting for the bus to take us back home, he told me of his time fighting for the contra forces, only stopping his narration to spit out the bits of blood that were still filling his mouth. He had been shot during a battle, and as the bullet passed through his lower leg, it had carved away some of the bone on his tibia. After he showed me both the entry and exit wounds, and I saw the marked deformation on his shin, he explained that the infection was so bad afterwards that it was only the grace of God that saved his leg and his life.
And I knew that when he had told me not to worry, that he was tough, he knew exactly what he was talking about.
