People with mental illness often need specialized neuropsychiatric care in the acute phase of their condition. Yet in many cases, recovery is not complete. Instead, serious disturbances persist, return, or worsen—making independent living, family relationships, and work difficult or impossible. This is called chronic mental illness.
We set out to see for ourselves where and how these people live.
We all know, from encounters on the street, that many of them live rough or in family situations of severe—sometimes tragic—hardship. But what about the others?
The two facilities we present offer a superficial look at two realities we visited, realities that stand in stark contrast to each other in nearly every way.
We earnestly hope that far more will be done to transform the painful and tragic reality facing our mentally ill brothers and sisters.
Villa S. Giovanni di Dio
Psychiatric Institute—346 beds—5 religious—180 staff
On a beautiful Sunday morning we drove through the hills and arrived in time for the 10 o'clock Mass.
The chapel was small for all of us—residents, friars, nuns, nurses, and visitors packed in together. A group of about thirty novices, almost all Filipino, led the singing with strong voices and guitars.
The homily was dialogical: the preacher asked questions of varying difficulty, and answers came back—some right, some not quite. But there was life in this preaching.
After Mass, in the garden, we met Brother Benedetto, the master of novices, and many residents. Most of them, older men, approached us warmly to greet us, shake hands, chat for a while—or much longer.
A few displayed unusual behavior, but they moved about freely, and we noticed the front gate stood wide open.
Also read: Therapeutic Community of Primavalle
Gray Hair
Brother Benedetto told us about the Hospitallers of St. John of God—friars scattered across the world who, in addition to the three classical religious vows, take a fourth: hospitality. They promise to dedicate their lives to caring for the sick and suffering of all kinds.
The psychiatric hospital in Genzano, near Rome, serves people with chronic mental illness—those no longer in acute crisis but needing a place to live and varying degrees of care and support.
The average resident is 56 years old. We saw much gray hair among them. It was clear that many no longer had parents to live with.
Now We're Starting Again
The 1970s were difficult years for Genzano. "We were forced to shut down work programs for patients," Brother Benedetto said, "accused of exploitation."
Only educational activities—now serving just 25 people—and recreational programs were permitted. But these alone, obviously, cannot fill or balance the lives of these men.
"Now we're starting again," he said. And indeed, we saw an enormous new greenhouse where 15 residents have begun working and learning horticulture.
Other projects are underway, especially agricultural activities of various kinds. The beautiful farmland surrounding the institute—rolling hills of vineyards and olive groves—will soon give many of them a genuine rhythm of life, a sense of purpose, the dignity we all wish for them.
Music and a Bus for Outings
Plans are also in place to renovate buildings into small apartments, each housing 15 people. Brother Benedetto showed us a beautiful coach equipped with a bar and restrooms. Residents take turns on outings and long trips, and he told us about musical evenings and dances held in a large hall with a real drum kit and other instruments on stage.
"They prefer to be performers rather than spectators," he said. "Music draws them in, and they let themselves be carried away in dance."
With few exceptions, most residents go into town freely. They come and go with a pass that helps the gatekeeper track their return and serves the staff as a form of reward.
Work and Volunteers
Two residents have jobs outside the facility and return to sleep. It's a small number now, but it could grow.
Most residents work within the home—keeping spaces clean, helping prepare and clear meals. Everything looked spotless and well-maintained. The dining tables had cloth coverings; colorful posters hung on the walls; plants and flowers were scattered throughout.
There is also a social center run by volunteers, where people can do crafts if they wish.
After the Storm
Religious staff are few; each must hold a diploma in either nursing or medicine. The novices at Genzano study and prepare for their future calling here, helping to feed the most disabled residents at lunch and dinner—there is a ward for many who have no independence whatsoever.
The lay staff, after the turbulent 1970s and its lasting aftermath, are returning now to work in the true spirit required for the residents' wellbeing.
We left Genzano with some sadness. A large institution always grips the heart a little. How much suffering exists behind those walls, unseen. But we left also with gratitude for those who shelter so many of our brothers—where and how would they live alone?—and with hope that their lives will improve through the changes already underway.
- Nicole Schulthes, 1988