Planning death helps the living

Schiavo is neither. Instead, she has become a political pawn in the controversial fight over last wishes and the right to die.

The brief stopping of her heart didn't kill Schiavo, but it is a matter of opinion whether that was a blessing. The medical anomaly left Schiavo dependent on a feeding tube and offering little to the outside world aside from a few moans and smiles. It also left Schiavo in the middle of a medical custody battle that has sharply divided her family and ensured that her eventual death — however the courts decide that should occur — will overshadow the highlights of her first 26 years of life.

The real tragedy, outside of Schiavo's loss of a normal life, is that that needs to be a legal tug-of-war over her fate. Her husband and parents should have known whether she would want to remain a feeding tub indefinitely or allowed to escape the prison of her broken body and mind. But without a documented living will and disparate versions offered by her husband and parents, Schiavo's last chance to determine her fate is evaporated. Schiavo's life and death has taken something very personal and made it very public.

People who don't know Schiavo or her family debate her right to die. Politicians enact emergency stays. Courts hand down timelines to reach resolution. Euthanasia advocates and opponents alike invoke her name on behalf of their cause. Every legal twist and turn generates new headlines. Even writers like myself enter the fray.

The first time I typed the name "Terri Schiavo" was late October 2003. The battle had reached a pinnacle it seemed. Florida Gov. Jeb push pushed an emergency bill mandating her feeding continue and it seemed like a court would have to make a final ruling soon. How long could it go on? The answer it seems is clear. Nearly a year and a half. So many months and yet so little has changed, for the Schiavos, for the right-to-die movement and for the rest of us who still have the opportunity to ensure we are never in the same precarious position.

In October 2003, I pointed out that the Schiavo battle never had to happen. If Terri Schiavo had a living will spelling out her exact requests, her family would not have to wonder about resuscitation, feeding tubes, ventilators, medication, organ donation, funeral arrangements. Schiavo would receive exactly the care, or lack thereof, she wanted and give her family the gift of not needing to guess. It's a favor we should all give those around us, I wrote. Maybe the Schiavo tragedy had silver lining if it motivated others to take charge of their futures and pre-plan for the worst. I figured I'd start with myself.

Yet as some things didn't change for the Schiavos in that year, the same can be said for me, too. I sheepishly admit that I never took the time to create the living will I lectured everyone else as being such a mandatory document.

I meant to. Really. I even had the official forms but, there was always something else taking priority. Work, laundry, dinner, bills, dishes, shopping, optometry visits, car washes. Somehow life always seemed to get in the way of planning my possible death.

Now, though, it is time to stop being hypocritical, especially as I continue nagging others. And so, I will dust off my year-old paperwork and finally fill it out. Work, laundry, dinner and every other mundane chore will always be there. They are not an excuse to put off preparing for a catastrophe that might mean I never do them again.

Among the excuses I told myself for procrastinating was that I didn't have the block of time available to really devote the careful thought and insight needed. Tomorrow, I figured, or the day after that. Nothing's going to happen in a single day or 48 hours, right? Of course, anything can happen at any time. Look at Terri Schiavo.

Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.