Medicalized Killing in the United States
This article was written during the time when the decision was being made over ending Terri Schiavo’s life. The agonizing debate was all over our television screens for a number of days.
As I sat down this morning, coffee in hand, Alex my cat jumped up eagerly to greet me, as she usually does. Having just come through two eye surgeries in one week, I was in no hurry to move. As I gently patted Alex on the head and told her I loved her, she purred and looked up at me with those great blue eyes, accompanied by a squeaky “meow.” Did she recognize me? Yes. Was her loud purr a response to my pat on her head? Probably. Was her “meow” an indication that she understood my words? I don’t know. I only know that she felt pleasure from the encounter and that she is still sitting happily by my side with a contented look on her face. I, too, am deriving pleasure from her company. The hot coffee and Alex’s affectionate purrs have a calming effect as my eyes resist even the minimal amount of light in the room.
Yesterday was Good Friday. As I thought of our Lord’s sacrifice on the cross, other thoughts were mixed in: gratitude for successful eye surgery and for the closeness and help of family. Yet as I listened to, and sometimes watched, the battle over Terri Schiavo’s life, the whole atmosphere turned surreal from the confusion and lack of clarity in what we were hearing.
As a non-Catholic, I was most lifted up and encouraged by the firm, reassuringly clear words from the Vatican. At least they know what they believe! I was also reassured by the passion that I saw in people like the governor of Florida and Sean Hannity, which stood in sharp contrast to the almost passive titillation of certain media elites, for whom the issues of life and death seemed to be simply the pseudo-intellectual challenge of the day. Tomorrow it could well be back to Michael Jackson or some other, hopefully from their point of view, new dilemma of human existence.
But back to Alex. Somewhere in the fog of not being able to see well, I remember hearing some medical authority say that Terri’s responses were on the level of a cat who purrs when he or she is stroked. From what I have heard, as a layman, I would disagree with his assessment. But for argument’s sake, let’s just stay with the level of Alex’s purr and "meow" this morning. Alex enjoyed being with me. I enjoyed being with her and she comforted me in my brief period of enforced rest. At least for me today her quality of life is quite satisfactory, quite worthy of the food, water, cat box cleaning, and medical bills which she requires.
In Hitler’s reign the term “useless eaters” described those who were not worthy to live because they did not contribute enough to society. The German people seemed contented with that conclusion until their own sons came home from war too wounded to work and too expensive to keep alive. Why did they object? Because they loved their sons and, apart from the eternal hope that we human beings have for improvement, their sons’ presence alone gave them pleasure.
According to some reports, there is an affidavit from a nurse indicating that a while back Terri was often placed by the nurses’ station where she could enjoy the company of the staff and even visitors. She laughed over certain jokes; she interacted, according to this nurse, in appropriate ways with the people around her. She even said a few words like “Hurt” and “Help me.” My cat Alex just uttered an irritated meow as she jumped off the sofa and went to another room. She may be unhappy because she’s not getting attention, or she may be simply hungry. But remarkable as I think Alex is, she has not yet uttered any words in my presence. I think that moves Terri considerably above the level of a cat purring.
But just what is a “useless eater”? What do we mean with all this talk of “quality of life”? Isn’t it enough that Terri seems to enjoy simple pleasures, like a visit from her mother or the humor of a joke regardless of what level of understanding is involved? Isn’t it enough that her mother derives great pleasure in their interaction together – the humor she feels they share, the love that they exchange for each other? Isn’t it enough that so many people feel so passionate about whether she lives or dies? From a Christian point of view, isn’t it enough that God chose to make Terri in His image and has not chosen to remove her from this earth yet? Isn’t it a little frightening, to say nothing of arrogant, to feel that any human being has the right to make that choice in the place of God?
A number of years ago, a very unhappy middle-aged man said to me in my counseling office, “I would give you half of what I own if you could make me feel happiness” – and he owned quite a bit. We all know of people who with vast amounts of wealth and challenging jobs still end up committing suicide because they feel no meaning in their lives. Even if just for a moment we concede for the sake of argument that Terri lives on the level of a cat purring out of satisfaction from being petted, at least even at that point she would have meaning. She would have the capacity to both enjoy life at that point on that very limited level and she would certainly have the ability to express love to those around her who, like her mother, are enriched by her love. That, my friend, is what it means to have purpose in life. We should not sneer at the simple pleasures that people derive from love and closeness and caring any more than we should inflate too much the value of money and power and status. While I resent a comparison of Terri Schiavo or any other human being with a cat, even within that comparison there is meaning. Even at that point there is a level of quality of life.
And by the way, the assumption being made which most concerns me is that it can be legally and morally acceptable to end another person’s life. Terri Schiavo was not on life support. Up to now she has been simply receiving food and hydration through a tube. To remove a human being from life support machines does not always result in death. Years ago when a young woman named Karen Quinlan was removed from a respirator she continued to live for nine years. The removal of that machine was not an automatic death sentence. However, to remove food and hydration is an automatic death sentence. It is 100 percent sure that the person will die. Technically it is active euthanasia.
It is ethically wrong to prolong the actual dying process by the use of artificial means. That is not what has been happening in the case of Terri Schiavo. From what I understand of even hospice standards, Terri Schiavo has not been terminally ill. In her case, it has not been a matter of keeping her alive on machines when she was actually dying. Rather it has been a matter of cutting her life short.
Regardless of anyone’s wishes, family or the state, are we really willing to make a statement which condones medicalized killing? To me, that is the issue we should be grappling with.
By the time this article first appeared on my Web site, man’s will, indeed the government’s will, to choose death for Terri Schiavo had succeeded.
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For more of Elizabeth Skoglund’s writing, please visit her Books page.