My Last Visit with Terri Schiavo
If only Terry could say 'I want to live,' this whole thing could be over, says a lawyer for the Schindlers.
By Barbara Weller, Baptist Press | posted 3/23/2005 12:00AM
When Terri Schiavo's feeding tube was removed at 1:45 p.m. EST on March 18, I was one of the most surprised people on the planet.
I had been visiting Terri throughout the morning with her family and her priest. As part of the legal team working throughout the previous days and nights to save Terri from a horrific fate, I was very hopeful. Although the state judicial system had obviously failed Terri by not protecting her life, I knew other forces were still at work.
I fully expected the federal courts would step in to reverse this injustice, just as they might for a prisoner unjustly set for executionalthough by much more humane means than Terri would be executed. Barring that, I was certain that sometime around noon, the Florida Department of Children and Family Services would come to the Woodside Hospice facility in Pinellas Park, Fla., and take Terri into protective custody. Or that federal marshals would arrive from Washington D.C, where the Congress was working furiously to try to save Terri, and would stand guard at her door to prevent any medical personnel from entering her room to remove the tube that was providing her nutrition and hydration.
Finally, I was sure if nothing else was working, that at 12:59, just before the hour scheduled for Terri's gruesome execution to begin, Florida Gov. Jeb Bush would at least issue a 60-day reprieve for the legislative bodies to complete the work they were attempting to do to save Terri's life and to make sure that no other vulnerable adults could be sentenced to starve to death. I had done the legal research weeks before and was fully convinced that Gov. Bush had the power, under our co-equal branches of government, to issue a reprieve in the face of a judicial death sentence intended to lead to the starvation and dehydration of an innocent woman when scores of doctors and neurologists were saying she could be helped.
All morning long, as I was in the room with Terri and her family, we were telling her that help was on the way. Terri was in good spirits that morning. The mood in her room was jovial, particularly around noontime, as we knew Congressional attorneys were on the scene and many were working hard to save Terri's life. For most of that time, I was visiting and talking with Terri along with Terri's sister Suzanne Vitadamo, Suzanne's husband, and Terri's aunt, who was visiting from New York to help provide support for the family. A female Pinellas Park police officer was stationed at the door outside Terri's room.
Terri was sitting up in her lounge chair, dressed and looking alert and well. Her feeding tube had been plugged in around 11 a.m. and we all felt good that she was still being fed. Suzanne and I were talking, joking, and laughing with Terri, telling her she was going to go to Washington D.C. to testify before Congress, which meant that finally Terri's husband Michael would be required to fix her wheelchair. After that Suzanne could take Terri to the mall shopping and could wheel her outdoors every day to feel the wind and sunshine on her face, something she has not been able to do for more than five years.
At one point, I noticed Terri's window blinds were pulled down. I went to the window to raise them so Terri could look at the beautiful garden outside her window and see the sun after several days of rain. As sunlight came into the room, Terri's eyes widened and she was obviously very pleased. At another point, Suzanne and I told Terri she needed to suck in all the food she could because she might not be getting anything for a few days. During that time, Mary Schindler, Terri's mother, joined us for a bit, and we noticed there were bubbles in Terri's feeding tube. We joked that we didn't want her to begin burping, and called the nurses to fix the feeding tube, which they did. Terri's mother did not come back into the room. This was a very difficult day for Bob and Mary Schindler. I suspect they were less hopeful all along than I was, having lived through Terri's last two feeding tube removals.
March (Web-only) 2005, Vol. 49