“I have absolutely to pick up my mother!”
“Tina, how old is your mother ?!
“11!”
“How is it possible?”
“I do not know, after all Christ has risen.”
“On this issue I cannot contradict you!”
“Do you know that you would be my type?”
“…”

This surreal conversation with Tina – ninety yeas and some Alzhaimer problems – inaugurates my volunteer adventure at the Cottolengo Hospital in Turin, the second experiment for the first year novices.
I immediately understand the value of happiness, the importance of laughing with the patients (not of them!), in order to sketch and face complex situations. “Joy has never affected holiness, and the saints are the happiest of all” states one of the most famous quotations by St. John Cottolengo.
I soon get used to Tina’s exclamation: she threatens to denounce me – guilty of having locked her in prison – or accuses me of being “a pig like everyone else”. And so – joking and laughing – we create a beautiful and unforgettable friendship.

However, often the patients’ suffering only allows silences and caresses, an expression of a silent closeness full of faith and hope. What can you offer to those who complain with agonizing eyes and ask that simple question with no easy answers: “why?” Sometimes, being there is the only possible consolation.

While bathing Teresa, a comatose patient, one of the most navigated nurses asks the same question.
I do not think there are immediate answers to the mystery of suffering. The only attitude I can understand is that of Pope Francis, contemplating the crucifix. “I do not know the reason of so much suffering, but I am sure that Christ has risen, and I have bet on this,” said the Pontiff in the homily of Easter Sunday. As for facing the suffering, Teresa’s family amazes and fascinates me, a rare example of absolute selfless love, a love able to restore dignity to those who are often considered a burden, a useless waste. I do not see beds so busy as hers. Her sons and relatives are always close to her by overwhelming the department staff with frequent requests, unnecessary to a superficial look – put her in a certain position, wet her lips, raise her head – an expression of a cure and delicacy motivated only by love. Relatives are aware that Teresa will not respond with a gesture of recognition, a look of affection, a smile, a grateful word filled with gratitude. They know very well that many of their attentions, as well as their presence, have no tangible results; Teresa does not even realize that. No matter, they are there. And for this reason, they give up programs that are more enjoyable and fruitful.
A “wasted love” for the most, but that finds its greatness in this waste. This is the miracle I have seen, and if, as St. John the Apostle says, “those who love know God”, in that perfect love, without any possible form of interest, I have seen that knowledge of God which makes life worth living. And also of this witness I thank the Lord.
At a time when the “euthanasia debate” is often banalized, instrumentalized and simplified with easy preconfigured answers that do not honor the situation of the sufferer, the attitude of the lady’s kids – always at her bedside with immense care and endless love – make me think a lot.

And what about the direct and immediate contact with death? One morning in the department I notice the empty bed of a patient I often talk to. I know all Marta’s life plans out of the hospital, places to visit, things to do in Turin. And now her room is empty, full of a defeaning silence. Her heart sank overnight.
I’m speechless. Her face, her smile is by me the all day. To her angel up in the arms of the Father, I address a greeting, a prayer, a goodbye “Dear Marta, now you see much more than the Sacra of San Michele or those Piedmont beauties you didn’t have time to visit here …”.
Death, one of the few certainties of this life, always leaves speechless.

Joy, suffering, love and death are not the only companions of this extraordinary experience. Human growth also passes through the most banal situations. This is the case of my traumatic clash with “the obsession of the fold of the sheet and of the hygiene”. For me – allergic to domestic work – just fixing my bed is a tough task. Now, having to make dozens of beds and spray detergents and disinfectants everywhere is a tough challenge, as well as making the bed fold almost perfectly and giving 100 percent of myself for a seemingly unnecessary work.

The turning point comes in thinking of the person, his comfort in that impeccable bed and, above all, the help in reducing the risk of contracting viruses that are dangerous to the immune system due to the almost maniacal hygiene of beds and nightstands. At that point, meeting the Lord in that monotonous activity is not impossible.
And in general one of the great merits of Cottolengo is just that: a 360 degree personal care. Every guest – albeit unconscious – is treated as a human being of immense dignity, not as a useless burden for the society or something to be discarded.

I would like to have more room to tell about the impressions, anecdotes and emotions of this month spent in the Cottolengo hospital. I just have to close by thanking the Lord and Sant’Ignazio once again that – aware of the educational value of this experience – has made it an obligatory stage for the formation of each Jesuit.