New World
medconference

Illness is Not the Final word
The story of a “volunteer family”who opens the doors of their house to offer hospitality to international guests coming to Boston for medical treatment. Through their work at Casa Monte Cassino, they are continuously learning that living life as a gift is what everyone is made for.

by Costanza Raimondi

Casa Monte Cassino opened its doors for the first time on June 2, 1987, in response to a growing number of blind infants coming from Italy to be operated on by a prominent ophthalmic surgeon, Dr. Tatsuo Hirose, who had just perfected a new surgical technique enabling blind infants affected by retinopathy of prematurity (ROP) to see. The house offered the Italian families free accommodation during their stay in Boston for their child’s treatment. The Casa was founded by two Italian brothers, Fred and Guido Vittiglio, who moved to American from the Italian town of Monte Cassino after World War II. During the first three years, the two personally housed hundreds of Italian families in two floors of the old Katherine Moore House in Boston’s North End. Today, it occupies the entire Katherine Moore House, a four-story building totally renovated by the Vittiglio brothers and made available by the Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. It is a non-profit organization and continues to be the temporary home of many international families coming to Boston for treatment of cancer, blindness, burns, and various other health problems. This house’s mission is to provide free housing and vital services to all its international guests, supporting them during their stay as an expression of friendship and solidarity.
Alpha Cattaneo, the director of the house, is a medical doctor specializing in psychiatry who moved from the Philippines to the U.S. with her son, David (now a college student at Boston University), in 2004. In Boston, she met Maurizio and his children, Francoise and Christian. Alpha and Maurizio got married and, together with their three children, run this non-profit organization, with the desire to help the patients understand that “illness is not their final destination.” At the MedConference in October, Traces met up with this special family to learn more about their unique calling.

Alpha, what did you find when you arrived at Casa Monte Cassino?
I was introduced to those running it by another doctor, a friend of mine, and began as a volunteer hostess. At the time, the Casa was struggling to survive and was operating more as a hostel because of numerous administrative challenges–then, it was more about managing the building than sharing human need. Things began to change when we realized we are there to accompany the patients, not only to offer a place to sleep. Every family that we host has traveled thousands of miles, leaving their familiar environment and often times part of their family behind. Moreover, each family has left a state of wellness and entered a state of illness. The goal of the house is to be a place where these people can rest and realize that this illness is not their final destination.

How are you funded?
When the Casa was founded 35 years ago, it was funded mainly through the donations of the Italian restaurants of the area. Today, support has diminished and we have been seeking other sponsors.  Even though the future is uncertain, we decided to commit to the Casa because we see how much we need this place for our own family, first of all.

It is very unique to have an entire family of volunteers…
We never want to lose the feeling of giving a home, and this is why it is so exceptional that this place is run voluntarily by a family. The administrative issues are important and have to be confronted, but they should not turn this place into nothing more than a roof over people’s heads.

Francoise, what  is it like, as a 15 year old, to be living with sick people?
I do not deal directly with the diseases, but I recognize the suffering that they experience because of them. I stay with them, doing things like playing or taking them around Boston on tours, sharing my culture and learning about theirs at the same time. Living life as a gift is our “final destination.”

In what ways have you been affected by these experiences?
I can offer two examples of people here who affected me the most: Natasha and Charmaine. During the summer, I spent a lot of time with Natasha, who is from Haiti. When she was 5, she was accidentally burnt by boiling oil all over her chest, and the skin on her chest and abdomen got stuck together, so she walked like a hunchback. She came to Boston for treatment with her uncle, because her parents couldn’t afford the trip, and stayed with us for three months. I was amazed to see how joyful she was, all the time! She had the gift of appreciating everything at such a young age, 6 years old. She didn’t take anything for granted. Everything was truly a gift for her. Another person that greatly affected me is Charmaine, a 32-year-old woman. She had spent her life setting up programs in poor areas in the Philippines, feeding the children and educating the mothers. When, in January, she was diagnosed with cancer in the lacrimal eye gland, and had to come to Boston, she told me that she was afraid of dying because she was concerned about her work in the slums and who would carry it on. Her condition was bad, and the doctors told her that in order to treat her cancer they were going to remove half of her face. While she was living with us, she lost much of her hair because of the radiation. I would go with her mother to buy her wigs, which made her so happy! Her condition really affected her life on earth, but because her life was so filled with desire to give herself to the others, she could go on.

So for the volunteers, the Casa is not just about giving but about receiving.
The people who come often show us how joy can be present in their experience of sorrow because of their desire to share their life with others. I can say that Natasha taught me appreciation and thankfulness for everything that I have, while Charmaine taught me that faith can give you the strength to face your condition in life. With every encounter I have, it becomes clearer that this I what I want to do: give my life and provide a home to comfort the patients in their time of struggle.

David, how was the transition into the Casa for you?
When my mother and I first moved to the Casa, Francoise and Christian weren’t there yet. That was the eighth time that we had moved since we came to the United States, in 2004, when I was 10 years old. For me at that point, moving was a hassle more than anything else. I did not realize at all the exceptionality of the Casa, the fact that we were going to live in a place that was housing kids undergoing treatment, because to me it was just another job that my mother had. When we first came to the U.S., she worked as a secretary in a psychiatric office, then she took care of an old man who was dying, then she worked in a nursing home, and even now she is taking care of a lady who has dementia.

Did you understand her motivations?
It was always a surprise to see how she wanted to do so much for people who are ill or have less than we have. I never understood why; I felt that we were the ones who needed to be taken care of, as there was something so broken in us. But my mom always looked past our own problems and gave herself to others. I thought that we were helping people because it was somehow convenient for us: my mom would stay close to this dying man, while the old man would help us get through life, allowing us to live in his place.

When did your perception change?
At some point, the Casa changed my life because it opened my eyes to why my mom wanted to give herself to suffering people. The point was not to see that there are people who are doing worse than we were, but rather to start from my own brokenness in order to be able to look at them and help them. This feeling of brokenness that for so many years made it impossible to understand the generosity characterizing my mom is now making more sense: I learned from my friends who lived at the Casa, like Natasha, that one can live life with happiness even in his brokenness because one can be grateful for what is given to him. Natasha and the others live with a constant sense of gratitude for what we give to them; but then I realized how much they were giving me, as my sister Francoise explained, and now I too am learning to live with this gratitude. My mom has shown me throughout all these years that only if life is a gift can we give it to others.

Do you think these discoveries resonate with others?
Yes, in surprising ways. One of the doctors here told me that he, too, as a physician, has to start from his own brokenness. Sometimes a doctor can think that he is simply there to fix the patient’s problems. He said for him, though, the human drama is lived more deeply in his work when he realizes that the patient is showing him what he is in need of as well. I am understanding more and more that to really welcome the other person–in a home like ours, or as a doctor, or in everything we do–one has to face his own human need first.