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IN YOUR PRIME
Persistent Vegetative State
Open Letter to:
Paul R. Lindeman, MD
Dear Son,
A story of unspeakable tragedy continues to unfold in south Florida, one that compels me to ask you for a pledge.
I speak here of the cruel fate that has trapped a hapless, 39-year-old woman in a partially live body while her brain, for all intent and purpose, is severely damaged; indeed, to a degree that it is beyond repair.
Of course, I am describing pitiable Terri Schiavo and her vegetative state, identified by expert brain scientists as "an ironic combination of wakefulness without awareness."
You perhaps read where Dr. Ron Cranford, of Minneapolis, and the American Academy of Neurology, said sophisticated x-rays of Ms. Schiavo's brain "indicate a massive shrinkage...with the brain's higher centers completely destroyed...(this) indicates irreversibility."
It is almost beyond comprehension, but this youthful woman, a wife who most assuredly would one day have become a mother, has been vegetative 13 years. The neurology academy definition explains how long-term sufferers may make noises, or faces, and even say words.
However, they do not-they cannot---"show self-awareness, comprehend language or expressions, or interact with others." In my view this may not be death, but it does not constitute life-not as you and I know it.
In my mind's eye, I clearly see our recent family weekend at Lake Worth, FL, across the peninsula from where Terri Schiavo's unresponsive body continues as an unwitting "star" in a tawdry melodrama that, at times, has featured Florida's governor, the state legislature, assorted lawyers, dueling family members and citizen zealots waving placards ("Choose Life Over Death!") for the benefit of a morbidly transfixed television audience.
Meantime, you and I, surrounded by your redheaded daughters: Melissa, 16; Stephanie, 12, and little Amanda, just 5, along with their vivacious mother, Suzy, and good-natured Grandma Jan, were racking up quality beach time. Melissa said to me, "Let's swim out to see if the sand bar is still there..." So, we swam out farther than anyone else, and then floated, savoring this idyllic family day.
Since Melissa is a high school junior, I talked colleges with her. I told my first-born grandchild, eldest of six beloved rascals scattered about Miami, suburban Chicago, and Pasadena, CA, how I am available to escort her to investigate campuses and courses.
Son, I continue to be inordinately proud that you are a physician, a specialist in emergency medicine, and the attentive father. I believe I have a small comprehension of the responsibilities you shoulder; so if I can be of help, holler.
To quickly wrap up our reunion weekend, I report on Mandy (aka Amanda), pint-sized maker of mischief. Pointing to a news photo, she said, "He looks like you, Grandpa." Her finger was resting then upon the likeness of an ailing, octogenarian Pope Paul. Speak with that child, will you?
Now, 32 years ago, following the terror inducing, post-surgical death of your mother, at age 40, I suggested you and I go for a walk. We aimlessly kicked through September leaves as I asked you, our 12-year-old, to keep on being "the spirit of the family." Like Mandy, you were a noisemaker, the jester, the kid others wanted for a friend.
I again come to you, asking for support and, quite possibly, intercession. With this essay, I tell you, and others, I choose never to exist in a vegetative state. As I look to complete a 53rd year as a print journalist, and 20th season as proprietor of this corner, I harbor plans for filling my rightful seat at Melissa's college graduation, to name just one future intergenerational event.
Should, however, the fates dictate otherwise, please know you are my health proxy, the man with a steady hand on the tiller of life. Paul, as a doctor familiar with life-ending exigencies, be there for both too-kind-Jan and your aging father, the guy who pushed you in those backyard basketball wars. The same guy who has his scars, affirming he once was a worthy opponent.
(Do you have a Living Will? An estimated 75 percent of Americans do not. Please prepare your Living Will now. Do it for your family.)
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Outrageous Associations
