Late to the Party – or Not
I’m writing this after coming home from work with allergy eyes so glassy and red that I look like a roady for a Cheech and Chong reunion tour. It’s March 31 and, although I should have set to write something thoughtful and meaningful by now, it’s been quite a struggle. Writer’s block, mixed emotions, reopened wounds and a great many regrets have kept me from the chore. I had to wonder what particular piece or angle I’ve not yet covered and came up empty-handed. But, I simply couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Five years ago, on this day, Terri Schiavo lost a years-long battle for her life. At the hands of the Sixth Circuit of Pinellas-Pasco Counties, Schiavo was ordered to have medically-assisted nourishment withdrawn from her and was denied the provisions of food and fluids of any variety. After over 13 days without so much as a chip of ice on her tongue, she succumbed to dehydration and died on March 31, 2005.
Her family, Robert and Mary Schindler, held a memorial service several days later in the town of Gulfport, Florida and I spoke, for a brief time, to the congregation that assembled there. I talked about the value of putting aside differences and embracing others in the light of something dramatic and profound. I thanked Terri’s parents and siblings for teaching me the real meaning of friendship. I tried to underscore the importance of valuing all human beings, be they able-bodied or not, and I expressed my deep regret that Terri Schiavo had not been valued in that way.
Then, I went home to an empty house and drank and sobbed until I was no longer capable of engaging in either activity.
I hold very firm the belief that our society lost so very much more than just a single individual that day. Somehow, we’ve lost a bit of innocence. Somehow, we’ve lost touch with what’s important in life’s journey as well. At least, part of it.
I had always thought that the greatest measure of our wealth is how much we’re willing to give away. Seems to me that someone rather dear to me made mention of this phenomenon a good number of years ago. And, with Terri’s case, many people came together on a single, clear and precise purpose: to protect the life and liberty interests… of a stranger.
People from the disabled community, pro-life groups, religious groups, legal aid organizations, medical professionals and your garden-variety community members all put their hands into this garden to try to cultivate a solution that made sense for someone they had never met. Of those people, the vast majority had nothing to gain, had at least a bit to lose and had no guarantees of the ultimate outcome.
Though Terri’s death came wrapped in unimaginable sadness for her family, her parents and siblings took with them a small amount of satisfaction. That satisfaction was in being under the obligation of strangers who reached out to them and to Terri. Indeed, without the kindness of strangers, the Schindlers’ battle would have been a far more frightening and lonesome prospect.
Yet, here we are: five years later and some of those support networks for Terri’s family (and a great many other families) have either disappeared or have become otherwise engaged. Mind you, these things happen. Your luxury of time certainly gets impinged upon. Your focuses can change from time to time. Everyone is feeling a pinch, economically or in other aspects of their commitments. I do, as well.
But, let’s look at a very broad analysis of Terri Schiavo’s situation and see if there is something here that impacts us all.
A young and healthy woman becomes brain injured and determined incapacitated. Her guardian relinquishes his decision-making authority to the circuit court. The circuit court judge becomes a de-facto guardian (as well as the adjudicator of the guardian) and doesn’t enforce a known medical directive. Rather, he orders that all forms of nourishment and hydration be withheld from her. She dies. She dies because the circuit judge orders so. She dies because she is disabled.
Armed with the knowledge that an actor of the state took virtual ownership of a citizen’s body and life and that this particular actor of the state created the environment under which that undying person was deliberately made to die (for circumstances beyond that individual’s control), would you not sit up? Take notice? Get involved?
Would you were it your own kid? Of course you would.
Five years from Terri’s death, I am witness to an uncloseted and very open mockery of people with cognitive disabilities in what I view, what I read and what I hear. Five years later, I know of virtually no one who has a protective medical directive that ensures they receive the types of health care they want to continue, in the event of catastrophe. Five years later, there is no public outcry for the protections of the life and liberty interests of our disabled, elderly and chronically ill citizens. And, five years later, I see the abandonment of persons with complicated life circumstances becoming more and more acceptable.
We started a good thing and, somehow, it’s been muddied up or forgotten.
But, let’s be honest. The fashionable thing (at the moment) appears to be the whole right to die movement. I’m a marketing person and can tell you – these people absolutely know how to market.
The product might suck, but the message can be compelling. Look back to those posters and handbills produced by the eugenics campaigners in the US as well as those in the era of Europe’s Third Reich. They sold, baby. They definitely sold.
I’m holding out on the hope that we’re all a wee bit wiser now. That we understand that – what happens to the least of us will certainly happen to the rest of us. That’s the selfish part, but I don’t think (in this instance) it’s such a bad thing to be selfish.
Perhaps, if I wish really hard and kick my heels together, we’ll put aside personal and world-view differences for just this one thing. Maybe we can come back to the table as neighbors and friends and settle firmly in the belief that – no matter what your challenges may be – you mean something. You’re worth something. You’re someone.
I can also wish away the oak pollen that’s turning my eyes into orbs of fire, but I don’t imagine I’ll have much luck with that. The other bit, however, might be within reach.