Diego Maradona's Last Days: Testimony Reveals Neglect Before His Death

Diego Maradona spent his final days bedridden, swollen with fluid and seemingly resigned to the end, according to stark testimony from his personal masseur at the trial examining the circumstances of his death.

Nicolas Taffarel, who worked closely with the Argentinian icon, painted a bleak picture in court on Thursday of a man who had stopped fighting.

“Diego wouldn’t get out of bed, he didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to wash, he didn’t want to look after his personal hygiene,” Taffarel said, his voice breaking as an audio message he had sent at the time was played to the court.

He told the judges he had pleaded with Maradona’s medical team to be more present, urging them to visit “every day” as the 1986 World Cup winner’s condition deteriorated. The alarm, he suggested, never translated into decisive action.

“I reported the issues I observed with him, but I saw no concrete action or swift resolution,” he added, on the verge of tears as he recalled those final hours.

Maradona, he said, was visibly unwell.

“He was bloated, his legs were swollen,” Taffarel recounted. The staff around him, he claimed, tried to calm his fears. “The doctors told me to calm down, that these symptoms would pass. When you’re anxious, you put your trust in them; you tell yourself it will pass, that everything will sort itself out. But it didn’t pass.”

That trust now sits at the heart of a courtroom battle.

Seven healthcare professionals are on trial in Argentina, accused of potential negligence that may have contributed to the death of one of football’s greatest figures. They face up to 25 years in prison if found guilty, yet all deny responsibility. Many point to their specialisms and insist their roles had no direct connection to the clinical causes of Maradona’s death.

The most haunting moment in Taffarel’s testimony came as he described November 24, 2020, the day before Maradona died.

He went to the house and tried to coax him into getting up, to share a mate, the herbal drink that so often accompanies conversation and companionship in Argentina. One more small ritual of normal life.

“He said to me: ‘I don’t want anything, Taffita, that’s it,’” Taffarel recalled. “I asked him: ‘What do you mean, that’s it?’ and he replied: ‘Nothing, that’s it.’”

In Spanish, “ya está” can mean “it’s all right” or “it’s over”. Taffarel left with those words echoing in his head. A shrug at the end, or a farewell? The ambiguity now hangs over the trial like a shadow.

The next day, Maradona died alone in his bed at the age of 60, succumbing to heart failure and acute pulmonary oedema – fluid flooding his lungs – just two weeks after brain surgery.

Inside the courtroom, the legal arguments have become technical, dense with medical nuance. Outside, the question is brutally simple: did those entrusted with Maradona’s care do enough?

The defendants insist they did, or that their responsibilities were too limited to have altered the outcome. The prosecution argues that the warning signs were clear, that a legendary patient was left in a vulnerable state without the intensive monitoring his condition demanded.

The trial, which has been running since mid-April, is expected to stretch beyond this month. Each new testimony adds another layer to a complex, emotionally charged case, but one image refuses to fade: Diego Maradona, the man who once carried a nation on his shoulders, lying in bed, swollen, silent, and saying, “that’s it.”