The Empty File – Medical Social Worker Laura Castañeda

Article published at: Mar 26, 2025
All Stories from medical staff

My name is Laura, and I'm a social worker at a psychiatric hospital in central Mexico. My work isn't about scalpels or prescriptions, but about records, family histories, and painful decisions.

Miguel was 46 years old, diagnosed with schizophrenia at 19. He lived on the streets. He arrived malnourished, with infected wounds and severe episodes of delirium. No one claimed him. We admitted him under court order.

I spent weeks looking for a relative. Calls, letters, civil registries. No one was looking for him. I spoke to him calmly every day. Sometimes he answered with nonsensical phrases, other times with a lucidity that hurt:
“How much does it cost to forget someone, miss? Because mine were very cheap.”

We managed to stabilize him with medication, and he started painting. He made geometric figures, windows, doors, keys. “I’m designing my way out,” he told me.

One day he didn't wake up. Cardiac arrest in his sleep. Alone.

I had to close his file without family contact. It was a thin folder. It hurt. The only thing on it was a drawing: an open red door.

I scanned it. I saved it. I don't know if it was my duty or my need. I understood that sometimes medical records don't tell the essential story: that someone was, existed, and deserved to be seen. My work doesn't end with documents or medicine; it's also about recognizing human dignity, even when the world seems to forget it.

Share: