By Charles L. McLafferty, Jr.
Presented at the XV World Congress of Logotherapy,
[Formatted to save paper]
I have been following Terri Schiavo’s case for years. Kevin, my brother, would have wanted it that way. His gift is a lesson that was impossible a century ago, before advances in medicine far outstripped our understanding of the issues involved. In fact, we are rapidly reaching the point where the ultimate achievement of medical science will be to maintain cellular and bodily function indefinitely. Previously unconsidered issues have emerged, requiring distinctions between purpose and existence, soul and body.
One memory stands out: May, 1997.
Kevin was in his wheelchair in
My dad replied, “We’ve been here for three days.”
“No.... I mean... like this.” He pointed to his wheelchair.
“You’ve been in your wheelchair for about 17 years.”
Kevin’s eyes grew wide. “Oooooooh.” He furrowed his brow, paused, then leaned over to ask very quietly, as if it were a secret: “How long... do I have to stay... like this?”
My dad looked down. “I don’t know.... I don’t know.”
Soon after, Kevin had another uncontrollable outburst of rage. These were his lucid moments, when he grasped the reality of his situation. Months later, he was hospitalized with a massive stroke, and remained on life support for over three years. He died in June, 2001.
Medicine cannot distinguish between those who should and should not be saved—its treatments are used on all who are injured and have access to modern care. The ventilator, the feeding tube, as well as dialysis and heart-lung machines serve to replace vital functions whose disruptions a century ago would have assured cessation of bodily function (death). The feeding tube seems most innocuous of all, as the person can survive without food for weeks. But the design of the body placed the mouth, teeth and throat as close to the brain stem as possible to maximize chances for survival. In the past, damage to brain functioning, such that the feeding and/or breathing mechanisms were impaired, was a built-in barometer of mortality.
The current use of invasive medical techniques causes two effects: it greatly increases the odds of survival in those cases where healing is possible, and it allows survival of cell life when there is “nobody home.” In the latter case, is it possible that modern medicine has demonstrated the existence and necessity of a human soul, by showing us what limited existence is available in its absence or inaccessibility?
Today, the removal of a feeding tube has caused an
unprecedented amount of public scrutiny. In the Schiavo case, numerous judges
ruled that Terri did not want to live like this. Terri’s parents and siblings
disagreed, maintaining that removal of a feeding tube was “murder.” Religious
fanatics and politicians seized on the wrenching emotional issues to their own
ends. To be sure, each side was sincerely fighting for the very soul of a loved
one. In
What should be done on your behalf if (God forbid) you were in this condition? Most Americans do not want heroic measures taken to keep them alive. The lesson of the Schiavo case, we are told, is that we must fill out a Living Will and an advanced health care proxy—important first steps. However, the decision goes to someone else, who may squirm at the possibility of having to “play God.” What if we have to make that decision for someone we love?
Behind these questions is another one, largely ignored: “What is life?” Viktor Frankl, who survived the Nazi concentration camps, states that all life has meaning, under every circumstance. For Frankl, the ability to choose is what sets the human being apart from animals—to choose to love, to create, to experience. Moreover, we can lose everything, even our abilities and talents, and yet each person can mobilize the human spirit to take a defiant stance toward our unalterable fate.
Frankl’s statements give us a clue as to the fine line defining life. In some cases, the physical shell still functions without the person truly having the ability to choose, to have meaning. The eyes are vacant, the mind blank. There is no growth, not even the ability to take a stance toward the blows of fate. In the past, death would have been certain. Is this life?
When I am unable to have a life of meaning, to love others, to make even the smallest of choices, to love God… when my existence is less than that of an animal, I ask that no extraordinary measures be taken to prolong my life. Further, I ask that such treatments be removed, to allow God’s natural process to follow. I would rather endure days of physical suffering than decades of soul imprisonment, trapped in a body that cannot express the intent of its creation.
The “miracle” of modern medicine provides an imperative for decision: is life merely a complicated biochemical reaction, to be extended indefinitely, or something more—within the realm of our meaningful experiences but currently beyond reach of medical science?
Such is the gift Kevin gave to me.
These thoughts are my gift to him.
© 2005 Charles McLafferty, Jr. Contact: ChasMc@gmail.com
May be freely distributed as long as article, including this notice, remains intact.
[Portions published in The Birmingham News, April 3, 2005, & The Tampa Tribune, April 1, 2005.]
Available online: http://mclafferty.net/Schiavo