Today, Margarit, a social worker for Doctors without Borders (MSF) in Armenia, takes me to visit Arsen, who is treated for multi-resistant tuberculosis (MDR-TB). Arsen lives in a house in the suburbs of Yerevan with his mother, 80 years old, along with the family of his brother. He has his own room on the ground floor of the house, close to the entrance, and well away from the rest of the family to avoid further contagion. He is comfortably installed but there is something cold and impersonal about his room: the walls are blank and there is nothing on the coffee table except pill containers. It gives the feeling Arsen is just passing through here, not really at home.

Margarit and I wear masks and it makes me uncomfortable. It feels to me like an hindrance between us and it makes the viewfinder of my camera foggy when I breathe. Margarit is used to it and she discusses heartily with Arsen.

Arsen caught tuberculosis three years ago in Russia where he lived from the age of fifteen. People have always been very mobile in the region and often move to neighbor countries for a while or for good. This was common during the Soviet Union era but it is still true. Arsen was already been treated for diabetes when the doctors found out about his TB. He came back to Yerevan a year ago and has started a new treatment for MDR-TB with MSF last September. The MDR-TB treatment is burdensome and time-consuming but at least Arsen receives his injections at home as a nurse visits him twice a day. This is real luxury as most patients have to go to the medical center instead.

Arsen had a stroke a few months ago. That has left him paralyzed on one side. He struggles to walk with crutches and he spends most of his days resting in his bed.

Arsen morale is not good and he hardly endures the medical treatment which was interrupted several times since September. He was told he could be better treated in Germany and asks Margarit about it. She explains he receives the most advanced drugs with the MSF program here in Armenia. Also he would be alone over there while here in Yerevan his family takes good care of him. Arsen seems disillusioned and slightly at a loss. He has every reason to be: to his incurable diabetes add up a multi-resistant tuberculosis and the after-effects of a stroke that has left him seriously hampered.

Arsen is skeptical and kind of amused about the purpose of my visit. He wonders why I want to talk with him and to make his portrait. I tell him about the self-esteem project. Arsen believes he cannot look good on a photograph, but he lends himself as my model.

Arsen notices I’m having a hard time with the mask and sympathetically invites us to go outside. The few steps from his bedroom are a real challenge for him and he is relieved once he reaches a chair. We have a smoke at the front door.

His sister in law arrives from the market. She is not happy to see Arsen smoking. As for me, I feel like a kid caught in a guilty act, but Arsen coaxes her with humor by proposing a photo together. She drops her bags and I make their portrait before we leave.

I had not planned to tell Arsen’s story at first, at his request, but a few days ago I received bad news from Margarit. Arsen had fallen in his room and broken his leg. The surgery went well but Arsen had had a heart attack soon after. Arsen has passed away, he was 47. “It was back luck” as Margarit wrote. Arsen never saw his photos but Margarit gave them to his mum.

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More photos of my trip to Yerevan here