I never thought I would pray for someone to die but today I did. Today was a hard day. Two people had died in the night and the atmosphere at Casa Maria was dark. While I realize we are bringing joy to the last days of their lives, it is hard being witness to such darkness.
One of the residents is in rough shape. The young nurses don’t know how to handle him so they simply tie him to a pole in the center of the courtyard. If he tries to move or get up, they tie him down harder. No one knows his name and with nothing to do all day he sits there gnawing on his tongue, droll pouring into his lap.
At one point during the day he desperately wanted a sucker and struggled to stand up but got stuck in the rope holding him to the pole and fell on his face. We tried to get him back into his chair but he threw a fit, the nurses rushed in and tied him down harder, his hands and legs now tightly bound. They give him the head of a teddy bear to entertain him; a grown man is given a ripped up teddy bear to play with all day.
Another resident has been having stomach problems so she has been forcing herself to throw up on herself. All day long she sits in her wheel chair vomiting into her lap. The nurses don’t know what to do with her so they leave her there, sitting in her own vomit. By the end of the day she was vomiting blood all over the cement floor, the nurses simply ignoring the problem.
At one point in the day I looked over to see a woman pull down her pants and go to the bathroom in the open, no privacy from any of the men or women she lives with daily.
Another man cradles a worn baby doll in the corner. Talking to it and pretending it was real. There was something so eerie about that scene. An elderly man, in the last moments of his life, completely abandoned by his family and left with only a dirty, used doll to call his own.
A finger motions me to her chair, sticking her hands down her pants, she shows me that she had been sitting in her own waste.
Florencia, a smiley resident with a good but firm disposition, was being pushed by one of the nurses when she face planted onto the cement floor full force. Within minutes her face was the size of a watermelon and blood was flowing. It was clear that she needed medical attention but with no money for care, nothing was done, she was forced to sit in her pain.
All of these residents are living in the “back room”, the room that the front residents won’t even go visit. With no money left to their names, they are unable to pay for any better accommodations much less medical care, so if anything happens, they must simply await death in pain.
As we were praying for healing and sickness to flee, I began to think, is that really what I want for these people? Do I really want to pray that they will get better only to stay longer in this living hell? Or should I begin praying for a peaceful exit from this earth?
Feeling overwhelmed by the situation we have to witness daily, someone tried to console me, “its ok Maggie” after saying that we looked at each other and I said, “But it’s really NOT ok…”
It’s not ok that a man is tied to a pole for the rest of his years left here on earth.
It’s not ok that a woman vomits on herself, left to sit in her own puke.
It’s not ok that a woman breaks bones in her face and is left to deal with the pain.
It’s not ok that a man has been abandoned by his family and is left to cradle a baby doll.
It’s not ok that a woman is forced to sit in her own waste.
It’s not ok that these people are told, “you don’t deserve medical care”
It’s not ok that these people are living out their final years in pain.
It’s not ok that I am praying for people to die.
It is simply NOT ok with me.
And the thing is, there’s not much I can do about it. I can sit with them, hold their hands, rub their backs and pray that just maybe that will be enough.
