On a late January morning, the phone rings. The voice on the other end breaks into sobs: "Please, come, help. An elderly man has been bedridden for four months, lying in his excrement. He has no one. He's alone, completely alone. Save him, save his life." The cameraman and I get into the car and drive to the heart of the picturesque Karst landscape with its vast forests. Kočevje, located 100 km from the capital, is a small town in the southeast of the country with barely 8,000 inhabitants.

At the edge of town, where the city meets the countryside, we find the address. Rožna Street. The house is the complete opposite of its name (as the adjective "rožna" refers to flowers or the colour pink).

It is an old, crumbling building with a half-open roof and window holes. We push open the heavy front door and climb the creaky wooden stairs to the attic. The air is filled with cold, darkness, and stench. In the only room, a man lies in bed, aged between 60 and 65. His name is Andrej.

A dull expression on his face. His eyes stare at the ceiling or at the television, his only window to the world. It’s been four months since he last got up and left his bed. His legs hurt—he points to the blue bruises on his skin— and he cannot stand up. There’s no trace of muscles anymore, as they’ve atrophied from prolonged immobility. He lies motionless. For four months. Alone. He doesn’t even know if there is snow outside, as his view doesn’t extend beyond the windowsill. The windowpane, cracked in several places, is taped with adhesive, from which icy flowers spread. The cold, seeping through the broken glass, spreads throughout the room. A glance around reveals nothing but misery. Mold in the corners has already begun to eat away at the wardrobe with its few clothes, moisture seeps through the cracks in the walls, and rainwater drips straight through the ceiling from the broken roof tiles. Plaster is literally falling onto Andrej’s head.

"How do you manage hygiene, basic needs?" we ask, noticing that there is no portable toilet in the room, and he cannot reach the bathroom on his own. He reluctantly points to a pile of plastic bottles by the bed, which he uses to relieve himself. For bowel movements, he uses a plastic bag, which he spreads over a kitchen pot and places under himself. He does everything lying down. Within arm’s reach is a closed plastic bucket where he stores the bags of waste. Then, he waits for the mercy of one of the few friends who still respond to his calls, to empty the containers of excrement. He hasn’t felt water or soap on his skin since September when he became bedridden. For 147 days, he has wiped himself down with wet wipes while lying in bed. Just a few centimetres from the containers of urine and feces, we notice a loaf of bread, fruit, and water. The basic supplies are brought to him by a kind neighbor, Slavica. She tells us that Andrej has had hot meals for exactly one week. It was thanks to her own persistence—after constant writing, calling, begging, and pleading—that Slavica managed to convince public social services to finally take action and help a lonely, neglected patient. A man who has been bedridden for four months without any care, basic health, or social assistance. Who urinates and defecates in his bed.

"I can hear his cries to the ground floor. I can't call anyone. It's been like this since September when he became bedridden. Until today, no one has come to see him, clean him, or provide him with medical care," recounts Slavica, a tearful pensioner, who, after serious surgery, is unable to take care of her sick neighbour. She only managed to arrange for the institution for home help and care to bring him a warm meal for the first time. Although Slavica thought the social worker would also help feed Andrej, clean him up, and wash him, the woman simply placed the metal container of food on the table—without even a plate or cutlery—turned on her heels, and left without a word. Not even the sight of helpless Andrej stirred any compassion in her, even though, unlike animals, humans should possess at least a trace of empathy.

But it’s different when the media gets involved. Immediately after we arrived at Andrej’s place, we called the mayor, social services, and the director of the health centre. They all came to visit Andrej.

"No one deserves to live like this. These are outrageous, catastrophic conditions! I'm surprised and saddened that something like this is happening in our municipality. We will find out who has failed him," said Kočevje's mayor, Dr. Vladimir Prebilič, who was elected to the European Parliament this year, upon seeing Andrej, bedridden and helpless. Immediately, a "rescue mission" to help Andrej was underway...

Conscious Neglect of Help by the Care Institution and 11 Days Since the First Response from the Social Work Center

The notion that Andrej is "lazy and responsible for his own fate because he doesn't want to work" has been echoed by some, even by those who, under state or municipal authority, are supposed to care for the elderly. The local institution for home care and assistance, which receives around 300,000 euros a year from the municipality to provide care for the elderly, knew about Andrej and yet gave up on him. Why? When they began delivering his only warm meal of the day, the sight of an unwashed, helpless, and immobile person did not stir any empathy in them. We are curious about the reason for this indifference and neglect of duty, which could potentially lead to criminal prosecution.

During an interview with the director of the social work centre, which receives government funding to care for the elderly, we learn that "the conditions for safe work for employees were not met," that "it’s dirty there," and that the rights of employees take precedence over the right of the user to receive help.

And so, Andrej was abandoned.

Europe of the Forgotten and Lonely

Andrej is not an isolated case of elder neglect in our country with two million inhabitants, we discovered. But how many more are there? That is the question. First, we need to determine how many elderly people are alone and isolated, like Andrej—without a doctor, without care, without contact.

Statistics from 2021, the last time the population was surveyed, show that 114,887 people aged 65 or older lived alone in households. That’s a quarter, or 26%, of people aged 65 and over. These numbers are alarming. Has anyone sounded the alarm? Although hidden behind the anonymity of statistics, these are real people—our neighbours, acquaintances, andpeers. Has anyone in a decision-making position asked whether they have someone to bring them a glass of water, offer a bowl of warm soup, wash them, or turn them in bed? Maybe just to touch them gently or say a word of compassion?

Andrej received attention for the first time after our visit, and 11 days after his neighbour’s first call to the social centre.

Slovenian Ministry of Solidarity-Based Future and Lack of Systematic Checks on the Lonely

Slovenia’s Ministry for Solidarity-Based Future, a unique institution in Europe, they claim that "these people are regularly visited by social work centres, which carry out various programs. The most important of them is the 'Seniors for Seniors' project, organized by the Slovenian Federation of Pensioners’ Association (ZDUS). "This project involves visiting the elderly, where volunteers check their living conditions and notify the relevant services if there are problems." However, this is mere lip service on paper. There is no systematic monitoring of the lonely. And this is even the case in our young country, which, like the rest of Europe, is committed to human rights. As a member of the Council of Europe, we have pledged to "enforce social standards as outlined in the Social Charter and other Council of Europe acts." If the state can’t, with a single click, access population data to identify the lonely, what is the situation then in larger countries like Romania, with 20 million people, which has also committed to respecting human rights?

If you can drive across Slovenia in just over three hours and reach every corner of the country in a single day, being old in Romania is a real tragedy. The picturesque landscape spread out across mountains, plains, and hills, is so vast that it makes monitoring the elderly difficult. Many people there spend their entire lives in remote areas, from birth until death. At the Margareta of Romania Royal Foundation, an organization that cares for the elderly, they explained to us that there are 3.7 million people over the age of 65 in Romania, with 1 million living entirely alone, and an additional 2 million widowed, divorced, or unmarried. Who oversees the fates of these people? Are they just statistics for Eurostat? In Romania, the average pension is just 400 euros!

Even slightly stronger painkillers cost more than 4 euros. Who buys and delivers them? Who arranges their pills in daily organizers? Who checks for drug interactions? The Margareta of Romania Royal Foundation is one of the few organizations that monitors and helps these people. Even in 2025 and 2026, they likely won’t reach all the lonely and elderly in need of help, those who have no one left in the world. Millions of "Andrejs" are left behind in the heart of the most developed part of the world.

Eurostat Warns of Social Exclusion Among Older Europeans

Poverty, illness, and loneliness are the greatest challenges facing the elderly in the European Union, warns Eurostat. In a time of rapid technological advancement and billions spent on armaments, those who built modern, peaceful Europe have no one to bring them a glass of water.

From the Bulgarian Ministry of Labor and Social Policy, we also received a response stating that, according to their statistics, nearly half a million people over the age of 65 live alone. Half a million! That’s almost 10% of their population. Official data from the European Statistical Office shows that the demographic group of people over 65 is truly alarming.

Andrej is a symbol of all the lonely, neglected, and forgotten Europeans. He represents the voiceless masses from Spain, Germany, Poland, Ukraine, and Greece. This is the generation that defended, liberated, and kept our European Union at peace. Yet today, Germany alone has just under 20 million people over 65 years old. In addition to Germany, Italy (13 million), France (13 million), and Spain (9 million) all have high percentages of elderly citizens. These are our parents, our grandparents. A staggering 21.8% of men over 65 in Europe live completely alone. Who covers them with a blanket, who brings them their medication, who prepares a hot meal, or who changes their diapers?

Some 58% of men over 65 in Europe share their home with one other person, while for women over 65, the figure is slightly lower at 39%. Meanwhile, 40.2% of women over 65 are estimated to live completely alone, according to Eurostat estimates.

The Elderly in the EU Urgently Need Their Own Commissioner

92 million Europeans are elderly. This represents a quarter of the population, who stand resilient against the paradox of modern times. While we experience the expansion of social media, networks, and likes at every turn, the builders of Europe are socially, existentially, medically, and emotionally isolated. While 448.4 million residents of the European Union can meet their needs and exercise their rights under the care of 27 commissioners responsible for various areas, the elderly remain neglected. On our portal, we have sent a proposal and questions to all relevant EU authorities. Would it be possible, in five years, to add a Commissioner for the Older People, unify the rules, and create and maintain records? If we can have records for people, cars, and dogs, why can’t we care for those who are alone? Could we appoint a key commissioner? For the generation that paved the way for peace, human rights, progress, and technology.

The First Attempts to Help Andrej Trampled on His Human Dignity

After our revelation, the first suggestion was to transfer Andrej to a homeless shelter, where in a small room shared with three others, he would have to relieve himself in bed just one meter away from other residents. Andrej refused. And rightly so.

Then they wanted to place him in a nursing home and told him that due to staff shortages, his rehabilitation would not be possible and he would have to remain in diapers, stripped of his independence. By placing him in an institution, they would also take away his financial independence, and over time, they would become the owners of his apartment, as he had lost his income due to illness. Andrej did not agree to this erosion of his basic rights, so rumours began to spread that he was refusing help. However, Andrej’s only wish was to stand on his feet again and still do some work.

The importance of media in highlighting fundamental human rights became evident when we insisted on finding a different, more suitable solution for Andrej. Just a few hours after our first visit, the mayor and deputy mayor of Kočevje, as well as the director of the health centre, were standing by his bed. Serious discussions for his solution had begun. In less than 24 hours, Andrej received a proper hospital bed that was essential for his care.

The director of the health centre ensured that Andrej was visited by a doctor and referred to specialists in Ljubljana. The municipality ordered the cleaning of the attic spaces, and local craftsmen, upon hearing Andrej’s story in our media, began arriving on their own. They prepared his room, replaced broken windows, patched cracks in the walls, and painted them. The spaces were disinfected, and Red Cross volunteers brought his apartment to at least minimal living standards.

Andrej, who had no access to hot water before his illness, whose bathroom was unusable, and whose only sink was shattered, received new plumbing and electrical wiring within a few days, along with a brand-new water heater, from which hot water finally flowed.

A kind-hearted neighbour, Slavica, using her persuasive skills, gathered a good number of craftsmen who laid laminate flooring in the room, replaced the windows at half price, and provided him with a washing machine, refrigerator, and new clothes. Once again, the generosity of Slovenians, who too often step in to resolve individual crises when the state neglects its duties, shone through. In just a few days, Andrej was able to sit up in bed, and physical therapy sessions began. Even his neighbour, Slavica, who saved his life, hired a physiotherapist from nearby Croatia to help him get back on his feet.

Life Has Meaning Again for Andrej

Thanks to Andrej, who allowed us to show the public the full misery and sadness of his living conditions, the municipality of Kočevje found four more lonely and neglected people like him. With persistent media pressure, we saved five individuals in a small Slovenian town. A systemic shift took place. The municipality terminated its contract with the organization that should have been caring for Andrej and initiated steps to establish its own service. The Minister of Labor, Family, Social Affairs, and Equal Opportunities launched an inspection of the organization to determine the responsibilities of those in charge. The inspection is, at the moment, still ongoing. Following our exposure, inspectors are also investigating allegations of abuse at the Kočevje Centre for Social Work. Officials at the centre, who abandoned Andrej despite recognizing his "severe health and living conditions," shifted the responsibility onto an alleged network of neighbours and friends that did not exist. This turned out to be a lie, a mere deflection of responsibility onto others. Andrej would have wasted away if his cries had not been heard by his neighbour Slavica, who herself is in fragile health. It took 11 days of media pressure for the state’s social centre, from their comfortable, air-conditioned offices, to respond to her calls.

Thanks to our revelation, Andrej did not become just another statistic in the pool of lonely, abandoned, and socially excluded people, which Eurostat warns Europe about. In four months, he learned to walk again, and for the first time in years, he enjoyed a cup of coffee by the lake, outside his four walls, with his kind-hearted neighbour Slavica.