I was reminded tonight, as I watched the services for President Gerald Ford and caught a few moments of Ben Stein’s appearance on The O’Reilly Factor, about the evening that I spent with him.

Most people know Ben from “Win Ben Stein’s Money” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Lesser known is the fact that Ben worked as a speech writer for Presidents Nixon and Ford, and is a conservative political commentator. He is also a life advocate.

A few years ago, he was the keynote speaker at Life Legal Defense Foundation’s (LLDF) annual dinner. LLDF provided significant financial support to my clients during the Wendland case, paying some of the actual costs (court filing fees, printing, binding, and postage, etc.). I attended the group’s annual dinners (and still do when I can) where I provided updates on the status of the case, answered questions, etc.

I was delighted to meet Ben and, with my good friend, Wesley J. Smith, spent a good deal of time before dinner talking with him about the factual details of the Wendland case. He was fascinated and completely unaware of so many aspects of the then-pending proceeding. He asked insightful questions and was genuinely interested in the answers.

When he took the podium after dinner, he was rather disoriented. He told those in attendance that he had a speech planned, but was abandoning it, in light of his conversation with Wesley and me. He noted that he was completely appalled by what he had learned during our discussion, to the point that he could not simply forge ahead with his planned remarks.

Instead, his address was impromptu and focused on his reaction to the true facts of the Wendland matter. He was horrified, for instance, to learn that the campaign to kill Robert Wendland was waged in spite of his cognitive abilities — Robert was neither comatose, in a permanent vegetative state, nor terminally ill. He was shocked at my recitation of some of the tactics employed by those on the other side of the case, and had no idea about the case’s motivating forces until Wesley and I educated him.

It was only after he left for the airport that I was informed he had excused himself from the dinner table, reporting when he returned that he had, in fact, become physically ill as a result of what he had learned during our conversation.

He was so moved by the revelations that he made a donation to LLDF and serves to this day as a member of the LLDF Board of Advisers.

Leave it to BigBob to sum up the evening’s events so succinctly on the way home.

As we were driving along, still stunned by what had transpired, he turned to me and said, “Well, dear, now you have another claim to fame. Henceforth, you shall be known as ‘the woman who made Ben Stein puke.'”

And every time we see Ben on television, he reminds me of that moniker.

Among the best, i.e., well-reasoned, decisions rendered by the Court during Chief Justice George’s tenure, Professor Uelman recognized Conservatorship of Wendland (2001) 26 Cal.4th 519.

Injured Man’s Brain Rewires Itself
By MARILYNN MARCHIONE

(July 4) – Doctors have their first proof that a man who was barely conscious for nearly 20 years regained speech and movement because his brain spontaneously rewired itself by growing tiny new nerve connections to replace the ones sheared apart in a car crash.

Terry Wallis, 42, is thought to be the only person in the United States to recover so dramatically so long after a severe brain injury. He still needs help eating and cannot walk, but his speech continues to improve and he can count to 25 without interruption.

Wallis’ sudden recovery happened three years ago at a rehabilitation center in Mountain View, Ark., but doctors said the same cannot be hoped for people in a persistent vegetative state, such as Terri Schiavo, the Florida woman who died last year after a fierce right-to-die court battle. [NOTE: Whether or not Terri was actually PVS was very much disputed and remains unclear.] Nor do they know how to make others with less serious damage, like Wallis, recover.

“Right now these cases are like winning the lottery,” said Dr. Ross Zafonte, rehabilitation chief at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, who was not involved in the research. “I wouldn’t want to overenthuse family members or folks who think now we have a cure for this.”
Wallis has complete amnesia about the two decades he spent barely conscious, but remembers his life before the injury.

“He still thinks Ronald Reagan is president,” his father, Jerry, said in a statement, adding that until recently his son insisted he was 20 years old.

The research on Wallis, published Monday in the Journal of Clinical Investigation, was led by imaging expert Henning Voss and neurologist Dr. Nicholas Schiff at the Weill Medical College of Cornell University in New York City and included doctors at JFK Medical Center in Edison, N.J.
Wallis was 19 when he suffered a traumatic brain injury that left him briefly in a coma and then in a minimally conscious state, in which he was awake but uncommunicative other than occasional nods and grunts, for more than 19 years.

“The nerve fibers from the cells were severed, but the cells themselves remained intact,” unlike Schiavo, whose brain cells had died, said Dr. James Bernat, a neurologist at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center in New Hampshire, who is familiar with the research.

Nerve cells that have not died can form new connections; for example, nerves in the arms and legs can grow about an inch a month after they are severed or damaged. However, this happens far less often in the brain.

The new research suggests that instead of the sudden recovery Wallis seemed to make when he began speaking and moving three years ago, he actually may have been slowly recovering all along, as nerves in his brain formed new connections at a glacial pace until enough were present to make a network.

Researchers used a new type of brain imaging only available in research settings – not ordinary hospitals or rehabilitation centers – to establish the regrowth. It tracks the direction of water molecules in and around brain cells, an indicator of brain activity.

“It’s a roadmap of how the connections are running,” Schiff said.

Doctors compared Wallis’ brain function to that of 20 healthy people and another minimally conscious [NOTE: This is the term that was specifically made up to describe Robert Wendland but, at that time, had not gained acceptance in the medical community.] patient who showed virtually no recovery for six years. All were imaged twice, 18 months apart.

In Wallis’ brain, “what we first see is how overwhelmingly severe this injury was,” with many abnormalities compared to the healthy people, Schiff said.

The second set of images showed changes from the first, strongly suggesting that new connections had formed. These correlated with areas of the brain that affect the ability to move and talk.

The other minimally conscious patient – a 24-year-old man who suffered a severe brain injury in a car accident when he was 18 – also had evidence of changes in nerve connections, but they were not organized in a way that made a difference in his ability to function.

“We’ll have to understand more about why recovery occurred” in Wallis’ case, Zafonte said. “The question is ‘why?’ It’s not just ‘wait.”‘

Until that is known, imaging cannot be used to predict who will recover, or to help patients’ brains rewire, he said.

The Charles A. Dana Foundation, which finances brain research, funded the scientific work. The lead author, Voss, also received money from the Cervical Spine Research Society, whose sponsors include companies that make spine care products. The British Discovery Channel and HBO paid to fly Wallis and family members to Cornell for tests.

“Most neurologists would have been willing to bet money that whatever the cause of it, if it hadn’t changed in 19 years, wasn’t going to change now,” Bernat said. “So it’s really extraordinary.”

Wallis’ father said his son is now able to make jokes. “That was something he wasn’t able to do early in his recovery,” Jerry Wallis said. “He now seems almost exactly like his old self. And he very often tells us how glad he is to be alive.”

“Watching Florida” said:

Without a doubt you are a better person than I am, aren’t you. Do you feel better now? I am sure you are referring to my post which I expressed JOY that Cranford was removed from this earth. Cranford was a criminal and should have been tried accordingly and jailed. As a rule, I am not civil to criminals that co conspire to murder. I was flabbergasted at his motive in Terri’s case. Cranford was a brutal man and he was paid a lot of money to say Terri Schiavo did not have person hood which caused her barbaric death. He was paid by the same money that was to be used to rehabilitate her. Knock off the pleasantries about Cranford, you of all people should know better. I knew the State of California sent him and his black bag packing in the Wendland case but I didn’t know who made that happen. It was you and I thank you. Terri Schiavo could have used your expertise, perhaps you could have challenged Cranford when he said Terri was PVS without hope yet he was on tape telling Terri, “Good Girl, you ARE following me”. Cranford deserves nothing but contempt.

First of all, your post was only one of many I read expressing joy and relief that Dr. Cranford has died.

I had no love for the man or his deeds. ((See “What’s In a Name?”))

And yes, I could be plenty angry and bitter, as could one of my clients, Rebekah Vinson. Many people forget that I actually represented two folks in the quest to spare Robert Wendland from death: His mother, Florence, and his sister, Rebekah. Both were named parties in the lawsuit, but Florence became more well known because the media loved to fashion the story as mother vs. wife (Rose).

Florence was allowed to visit Robert at Lodi Memorial Hospital regularly, but visits with his other family members, none of whom, with the exception of his half-brother, Michael Hofer, sided with Rose, were cut off. Indeed, on the day Robert died, his mother, not his wife and children, was at his side. But it was Rebekah and other family members who were left standing in the parking lot of the hospital, distraught and despondent, as Robert lay dying inside, because Rose would not allow them to visit Robert and say their good-byes. Rose acted upon the advice and counsel of, among others, Ronald Cranford and her appellate attorney, Lawrence Nelson.

So believe me, I did not miss the irony when I read in Dr. Death’s obituary that he died with his daughters at his side, holding his hands. He was among those who were instrumental in denying such comfort and peace to Robert and his family.

But it is not my place to pass judgment on him and I will not be goaded into doing it by anyone.

I am, however, completely baffled by “Watching Florida’s” reference to the State of California sending Cranford “and his black bag packing.” That sentence reads almost as if the State pulled Cranford’s license to practice in California or something akin to that. If so, I am unaware of that occurrence. If, however, “Watching Florida” is referring to the fact that the California Supreme Court handed Cranford, et al. a huge loss about which they have all been whining ever since, that is a true statement.

I have never publicly divulged just how I secured victory for my clients in the trial court. I have no doubt in my mind, however, that Ronald Cranford, M.D. was single-handedly responsible for losing the San Joaquin County trial. And I was the one who held out the carrot that he just couldn’t resist grabbing from my hand.

I refer to it as “The Flowered Jumper Tactic.”

Ronald Cranford was nothing if not arrogant. His daughter was quoted describing his wit and down to earth nature. In reality, he knew how to turn on the Marcus Welby-esque persona in order to manipulate and maneuver people into believing him. He would look at you very kindly over his half-glasses while shaking your hand and patting your shoulder. But it was an act. He had an agenda and his intentions were purely evil.

He pontificated on the witness stand in Stockton for two full days. Called to testify by Rose’s attorney, who was presenting his case in tandem with the attorney who was appointed to safeguard Robert’s interests, but ended up advocating for his death, as well, Cranford was allowed to ramble on and on and on.

Finally, my opportunity to cross-examine him came. Just as I was about to begin my questioning, he smiled at me over those half-glasses and actually had the gall to wink at me as he said, “Ok, come on, let me have it.”

He might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull. Talk about the ultimate act of belittlement, chauvinism, and arrogance. People in the courtroom sat in stunned silence.

My husband, knowing full well what reaction Cranford wrought with that maneuver, just put his head in his hands and shook it from side to side, as if to say, “Oh, you poor bastard . . . you have no idea what you just did.”

I scored some early points in my cross-examination, but then things began to look a bit more dreary as he became used to my rhythm and approach. I was wracking my brain trying to figure out how I was going to get him to say the things that I needed him to say in order to win the case. Because I knew that if I could just get him to really open up, his arrogance would take over and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself . . . he would talk the other side right out of their case, thereby playing right into my hands.

But how to get him to do it?

The next morning, as I stood in my closet wondering what to wear to court and fuming as I thought about that mysogynistic wink, it dawned on me that I had to change my entire demeanor. I was acting far too much like a lawyer. I had to dumb myself down and let his ego take over. In short, I had to, as my good friend Clint Ritchie likes to say, when he really wants to get under my skin, “get girlie.” I don’t do “girlie.”

But I knew that for one day, I had to make an exception.

So . . . I went into my closet and pulled out the most “girlie” ensemble I owned. It was a brightly flowered rayon jumper, with a white crepe blouse under it. The blouse had three quarter length sleeves and a collar with very wide lace. It was a very lovely outfit that I would normally never wear to court, a deposition, or in any other professional setting. I had purchased it a couple of years earlier to wear to a friend’s wedding reception and I wore it only to such social events or, perhaps, church.

I can still see the looks on my stunned clients’ faces when I came into the courtroom. They were in shock because they had never seen me wear such an outfit before. But they were too polite to inquire. So I just took them aside and said, “Hey, it might not work, but just go with me on this.” Even the judge did a double-take when he took the bench and I heard the two other lawyers snickering about my lack of courtroom fashion sense.

I completely changed my questioning style and began firing open-ended questions at Cranford. Questions that I knew he would love to answer. I also knew that the other two attorneys would be delighted not to object. They mistakenly believed that if they didn’t object, Cranford would continue educating the court and secure a victory for them.

They completely underestimated the size of Cranford’s ego and the extent of his “God complex.” But I didn’t.

Cranford’s testimony is what lost the case for Rose Wendland — all because he couldn’t wait to educate the female attorney who couldn’t even show up for court attired appropriately. ((The testimony is set forth in “What’s in a Name?”)) I held out the carrot — and he took it. And I quoted Cranford verbatim in every appellate brief I filed, making sure that his words were not lost on the justices who were going to decide Robert’s fate. Especially the one sentence that Cranford could not stop himself from uttering that belied his real agenda and motivation: “Robert needs to die so his family can grieve.” I shoved that sentence back in his face over and over, every chance I got.

And after I knew that I had succeeded in my mission to get Cranford to expound to the point that he lost the case for Rose Wendland, I went home, took off the now-infamous flowered jumper, put it in the box destined for Good Will, and never looked at or wore it again.

I don’t know where Dr. Death, as Cranford enjoyed calling himself, is tonight. Frankly, I don’t really care. His ultimate destination is between him and his maker. I had no love for the man and am glad that he is no longer able to bring about the death of innocent disabled persons such as Terri Schiavo.

But I will not lower myself to Munchkin-like (“Ding dong, the witch is dead . . .”) glee.

Why? Not because I’m such a great person. I’m no saint.

But I will not devalue his life or his inherent value as a human being. To do so would accomplish nothing except make me feel like a hypocrite in the first order. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

MINNEAPOLIS – Neurologist Dr. Ronald Cranford, one of the nation’s leading medical ethicists and right-to-die advocates, died Wednesday at a hospice in Edina, from complications of kidney cancer. He was 65.

Cranford was thrust into the public spotlight by the case of Terry Schiavo, a Florida woman he diagnosed in 2002 as being in an irreversible vegetative state. He defended his diagnosis throughout her husband’s court battle to remove her feeding tube in 2005.

Cranford’s daughter, Kristin Cranford of Long Beach, Calif, said her father was a “down to earth, easy going, non-pretentious man who told it like it was. He was extremely funny and witty and he will most be remembered by how generous he was, especially with his time.”

Ronald Cranford graduated from the University of Illinois College of Medicine in Chicago in 1965. He served in the U.S. Air Force as a flight surgeon during the Vietnam War and came to Minnesota to complete his residency.

He practiced medicine for 35 years, most recently as a neurologist and clinical teacher at Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis.

According to information provided by his family, he wrote more than 90 papers on subjects at the crossroads of medicine, law, and ethics, including determining brain death and when to stop food and water for patients who were permanently unconscious.

His wife, Candy Crawford, told the Star Tribune that although her husband spoke forcefully about his view on patient’s rights, he did not support euthanasia or physician-assisted suicide.

Ronald Crawford is survived by his wife, sons Craig Losure and Michael Don Carlos; brother Tom Cranford and daughters Kristin and Robyn Moder. His daughters were holding his hands when he died, the family said.
____________________________________________________

I’ve been reading some interesting comments on the ‘Net about Dr. Cranford’s passing. Some are downright cruel and vicious, speculating on his fate. I won’t even dignify them by repeating them here.

I think that my dear friend, Wesley J. Smith, got it right, as he most always does:

I disagreed vehemently with Dr. Cranford. I saw him testify in the Robert Wendland case and his cool recounting of the process of dehydration chilled me to my bones, as did his ready admission that he had removed sustenance from people who were clearly conscious. I actually think that testimony was the primary reason the court refused to allow Wendland’s tube sustenance to be stopped. And his examination of Terri Schiavo seemed conducted in such a hurried way that she would be unlikely to respond. We met only once at a debate about Terri Schiavo in Florida. We were pleasant and civil to each other. Nothing more.

What is the proper response to the death of someone who has been an implacable adversary? I think it is the response we should have to the death of every human being. We should set those old disputes aside and hope that in the Great Beyond, he finds forgiveness and peace.

I have no knowledge of Cranford’s spiritual or religious beliefs or affiliations. Whether or not he believed in God is a mystery to me. And where he spends eternity is not for me or any other mortal to decide. That is between Cranford and the God that I believe exists.

I also believe that it is too late now for any human being to do anything to assist Cranford. I believe that, at the moment of our death, our fate is sealed because we have been given free will and the opportunity to choose to believe or not. Therefore, there is nothing that any survivor can do after the point of death to assure his/her loved one’s entrance into heaven. I do not believe in offering prayers for the deceased during funerals or memorial worship services . I do not believe in purgatory, baptism for the dead, or any of the many concepts embraced by some folks suggesting that we can do something to help a loved one who has already crossed over. I pray for the survivors who mourn and offer prayers of thanksgiving and remembrance for the life of the departed love one, thanking God for the joy that person brought to us, the way he/she enriched our life, etc.

I do know that both Robert Wendland and his mother, Florence (my client), were believers. Florence and I talked about faith at length during the six long years that we fought together to save Robert from the fate that Ron Cranford would happily have dealt him.

And so tonight, as I ponder his passing, it seems to me that what is far more interesting than spewing hatred and exhibiting glee about Cranford’s demise, is to imagine the conversations that might be taking place now in a magnificent kingdom that we can only imagine. If, in fact, Ron Cranford is in the same place as Robert and his dear mother, Florence, not to mention Terri Schiavo, they might be having quite a conversation about now, especially given that they have knowledge and understanding beyond anything that we can envision or comprehend. Also, the Bible teaches that there will be no wars, no strife, no disagreements and no conflicts there. Just peace and forgiveness.

Quite a picture, isn’t it?

Like Wesley, I would be an immense hypocrite if I failed to acknowledge that, despite our vehement disagreements, Ron Cranford was a human being whose life had value and he deserved to die with dignity and in accordance with his wishes regarding end-of-life treatment and care. I hope that he did.

I extend my condolences to his family, friends, coworkers and colleagues who loved him.

While reading about this case I would say that if that were my husband no one would stand in the way of letting me do what I felt was best. Your words over the tears in regards to this case and your beautiful memorial to his mother makes me question just what I would do in a similar situation.

I experienced a lot of amazing reactions from people because of my involvement in the Wendland case and even now — five years later (hard to believe) — still get some amazing responses when people learn of my involvement.

Sometimes the most extreme reactions come from surprising sources. For instance, one of my best friends — a person I have been close to for nearly 30 years — had a very emphatic, visceral reaction to my involvement. She was not supportive, thought I was nuts for representing Florence and her viewpoint, and told me enthusiastically that she would not want to be kept alive under any circumstances if she were in Robert Wendland’s condition.

The good news is that we decided, for the sake of our friendship, to agree to disagree.

At the other end of the spectrum . . . I received telephone calls and e-mails from people I had never heard of who just wanted to express their support for Florence, her family members — and me. I have been greeted warmly by complete strangers who, having read about the case or seen reports on the news, want me to know that they agreed with Florence’s stand and would do the same thing were it their loved one’s life at stake.

My friend’s comment, “if that were my husband no one would stand in the way of letting me do what I felt was best,” is certainly well-intended, but quite naive on a couple of levels.

First, there were a good number of people who felt that Robert Wendland’s wife should have had the right to make medical decisions on behalf of her husband without having those decisions questioned by anyone, including the courts. But our legal system just doesn’t work that way — and for good reason. No one is “above the law,” clothed with unfettered and unquestionable discretion to make decisions about another human being. A person who is appointed by the court to serve as the conservator (guardian) of another individual must understand that his/her actions will be subjected to scrutiny, especially when one word from the conservator could bring about the death of the conservatee (person on whose behalf the conservator is acting).

And a lot of people don’t understand that, under California law, “any interested person,” whether related to the conservatee or not, can ask the court to examine the actions taken by the conservator. Florence Wendland, Robert’s mother, was certainly “interested” in his welfare. So she had every right to challenge Rose Wendland’s assertion that Robert would have wanted to die by having his feeding tube removed.

And therein is the key: The son that Florence knew would never have wanted that. Like Terri’s Schindler-Schiavo’s parents, Bob and Mary, Florence was confident that her son would not want to be dehydrated and that the sparse statements Rose and a couple of other folks attributed to Robert did not rise to the level of informed consent to die in that fashion.

My friend mentioned what the spouse deems best. This is precisely where a lot of people missed the point of the Wendland case, as well as that of Terri Schindler-Schiavo. People told me “the wife should be in control” and “his mother has nothing to say about it,” actually quoting the Bible to me in support of their argument (“a man leaves his mother . . .” and all that). They felt that the spouse’s values and outlook should control the conservatee’s destiny.

But the whole point of a conservatorship is this: The court appoints the person to serve as conservator whom it believes will most likely carry out the wishes of the conservatee, at least to the extent that those wishes are known or can be ascertained.

Stated differently: The focus is on what the incapacitated person (the person who is no longer capable of expressing his/her wishes and making his/her own treatment decisions) would want and what directions that person would give to the healthcare provider(s) if he/she were still capable of expressing him/herself.

What the spouse wants is basically irrelevant.

So, in the Wendland case, as in the Schiavo matter, the focus of the court’s inquiry was this: If Robert could speak for himself, what would he tell the court he wanted to have happen in light of his present circumstances? Figuring that out is sometimes extremely difficult, i.e., when the conservatee has left no advance written directive nor discussed his/her wishes with the persons he/she was closest too. But it is the only important inquiry because, ultimately, it’s not about what the wife, the children, the mother, the father, the siblings or anyone else connected to the incapacitated person wants to see happen to him/her. It is ALL about the incapacitated individual’s wishes, goals, and desires.

Robert Wendland never executed a durable power for healthcare, living will, or any other written document that would have given everyone involved in the case a clear understanding of whether or not he would have wanted to continue living following his traumatic injury in light of the fact that he would never again be a full-bodied person. And the few statements that his wife, children and half-brother attributed to him were, unfortunately, cryptic, at best.

I will write more about the few, brief comments attributed to him, why they could never have been legally sufficient to support bringing about his death, and the evidence of his wishes that the court never heard — and I have never publicly revealed.

A shot of Florence and I immediately following the memorial service for her son, Robert Wendland, in July 2001.

That’s what I called my client, Florence Wendland, who died in early 2006 at the age of 83. After all, we spent six years fighting together to prevent her cherished son, Robert, from being dehydrated. And she came to be like a surrogate mother to me.She was an amazing woman, completely devoted to her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and friends. She was an example of unconditional love, support, encouragement, and enthusiasm. She never once believed that she would lose her battle to save Robert. She never once let me get discouraged, even though it was my job to keep her spirits up.A weaker person would have given up. After all, even though Robert Wendland was not in a6 coma, persistent vegetative state, or suffering from the ravages of Alzheimer’s or dementia, he was severely brain-injured. And it had to be devastating for her to see her once strong, healthy 40-something-year-old hard-drinking, hard-working son sitting in a wheelchair unable to speak, paralyzed on one side, blind in one eye, wearing a diaper . . . while we all tried to figure out just how much of what was going on around him he really understood. It had to be heart-breaking.

But if you’d seen Florence with Robert, you’d never know it.

Because she was the epitome of the person who sees the glass as half full, rather than empty.

That was her baby boy, her first-born, her beloved son in that wheelchair — and she never let anyone, especially Robert, forget it.

You couldn’t help but love a woman who would answer the phone and, at the sound of your voice inquire, “How are you, dearie?” You couldn’t help but hug her back when she greeted you in person, perched up on her tiptoes, with a big hug.

You couldn’t help but admire and be astonished by a woman in her 70’s who sat in a courtroom day after day through an exhaustively protracted trial, listening to people talk about how her beloved boy would be better off dead. She endured hateful testimony from another son and her granddaughter Katy, both of whom shunned her. But, remarkably, she turned the other cheek, talked about how much she loved both of them, and proclaimed that her door would be wide open to them should they decide to come visit and set things right in their relationship.

As I read Michael Hofer’s name among her survivors today, I wondered if he or any of Robert’s three children ever did set things right with Florence before she left this earth. If they didn’t, they must live with their choice — they are the clear losers.

Florence had a deep, unwavering faith in God. She didn’t preach to you or get in your face about God. She just lived a quiet life that exemplified her beliefs. She spent time at the hospital with Robert reading him devotionals, Bible stories, and singing familiar hymns to him. She related that she used to tell him, “It’s ok, Robert. Jesus will take care of you. I know things are rough right now, but they’re going to get better.” She swore that he understood every word and would sometimes weep when she visited, but stopped when she spoke those words of comfort to him.

She was cared for and watched over by the staff at the hospital, a dedicated group of professionals who had to outwardly display neutrality throughout the legal proceedings. Like me, they kind of adopted her (and vice versa). I remember one Christmas when she was just beaming as she told me about the present she had received from the staff: A large container of bus tokens they had purchased for her as a group.

You see, although Robert’s wife and children stopped visiting him altogether in 1996, Florence spent at least three days per week at the hospital with him, riding the public bus all the way from her Stockton home in the morning and back again each afternoon about 4:00 p.m.

Aside from when Robert died, there were only two times when I saw her get depressed and appear to momentarily lose hope. One was the day that the real “Dr. Death,” Ronald Cranford, testified during the trial. I warned Florence it was going to be a rough afternoon because I needed to elicit some very unpleasant information from Cranford and suggested that she not remain in the courtroom, but she wouldn’t budge. She said that she wanted to hear everything. As Cranford droned on dispassionately about the physical process of dying from dehydration, I could see that she was becoming distraught. She wasn’t alone . . . the judge had to clear the courtroom to let observers recover and regroup.

The other time was when Rose Wendland’s attorney threatened to have her barred from visiting Robert at the hospital because Florence displayed his painting during an appearance on “Good Morning, America.” She was really scared for a few minutes there. But when I assured her that if Rose had the chutzpah to follow through on that threat, we would have a press conference to end all press conferences — and she could bring the painting! — she quickly became her feisty, scrappy self again.<

It was fitting that it was Florence who was at Robert’s bedside when he died of pneumonia in July 2001, even as the California Supreme Court was mulling his fate. She told me that just moments before Robert died, she asked him, “Can you see the angels, Robert?” and encouraged him to go and join them. So I wondered today when I learned that she had died if she saw those angels as she crossed over into eternity — and if one of them answers to the name of “Robert.” I hope so on both counts, and that she is now reunited with the son she fought so valiantly and tirelessly to save.

Rest in peace, “Mom.” You’ve earned it. And I am honored to say that I knew, loved, learned from, and fought alongside you.

by Pamela F. Hennessy

On April 30 and May 1, 2006, the University of Pennsylvania’s Center for Bioethics will be hosting their 10th annual symposium. Their case study for this year’s gathering has been titled “The Legacy of the Terri Schiavo Case: Why is it so hard to die in America?”

I didn’t realize it was hard to die in America. I always thought it was rather easy. Become fatally injured, suffer a terminal disease, put a gun to your own head and I’m almost entirely certain it’s an easy task to die . . . in America.

Perhaps a more apt legend for this particular exercise would be “Why is it so hard to kill someone in America?”

Certainly, the guest speakers seem to all share the sentiment. What’s just a tad more disturbing is that they know each other.

Kicking off the fun-filled extravaganza and addressing “Personal Experiences with Death and Dying” is none other than self-made widower, Michael Schiavo. I can only imagine Schiavo will spend his time, once again, bemoaning lawmakers who tried to protect the life of his disabled wife, Terri Schiavo, by calling them intruders on a private and family matter.

Schiavo never discloses to the public that it was he who involved the government in 1998 by petitioning the circuit court in Pinellas County, Florida to decide what to do with his wife in her incapacitated state. It’s not to be missed that Schiavo had never — not once — approached his young wife’s parents or siblings, urging that the entire family openly discuss the best course for her, her wishes, her personal feelings on such subjects and what would be most loving and respectful for her.

I understand that Schiavo had a row with Terri’s father years previous. Still, in a case of ending someone’s life, I’d think he would have been man enough to put angry feelings aside and do right by his mate. He didn’t.

I can only hope that someone at that symposium will ask him why not.

Following what will surely be a riveting performance by Schiavo (which I don’t doubt will include him yanking out a hair from his bushy moustache to bring forth a tear) is none other than court-appointed and ‘independent’ guardian ad litem, Jay Wolfson, discussing “Who Should Decide – Surrogates or Families?”

Wolfson’s appearance at such a jamboree is not just a little improper. It’s downright outrageous. Charged with tendering an independent and unbiased report of an incapacitated ward to Florida’s Governor, Jeb Bush, in 2003 should have set forth a path for Wolfson to remain impartial, serving only his incapacitated ward and upholding both the law and practical ethics as they relate to the treatment of people who can no longer speak for themselves.

Instead, it’s become something of a macabre celebrity for the University of South Florida professor. This is not his first speaking engagement standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Schiavo. Earlier this year, the pair were featured in a Minnesota conference of much the same nature.

Wolfson should rethink his career path. Either he is an unbiased presenter of fact to the court or he is yet another out of place seeker of poorly placed praise. Can you imagine having any comfort level with him representing your loved one?

It comes as no surprise that the presentation of “How Should American Society Cope with Death” is given by the man who calls himself “Dr. Humane Death”, Ronald Cranford. [Note to readers: Review my discussion about the real “Dr. Death” — nothing “humane” about it.]

Having been an expert witness in the cases of Nancy Cruzan, Robert Wendland, Terri Schiavo and many more (according to him), Cranford isn’t exactly the picture of a caring and helpful physician. Instead, he has employed himself as a spokesperson for dehydrating and neglecting non-terminally ill patients with severe cognitive and neurological injuries to death. Cranford has opined that Alzheimer’s patients need not be kept alive. Surely, he’s forgotten the Hippocratic Oath, his calling as a physician and the very concepts of medicinal art. Instead, he’s floundered in an odd notoriety as the grim reaper’s unpaid spokesman.

Imagine him treating your child or spouse.

If all of this hasn’t sickened you enough, there is one other name that bears mentioning in this all-star line up of soulless prostitutes: Judge George W. Greer.

Yes, Greer himself will be presenting “Who Should Decide – Courts or Legislators?”

I simply cannot imagine that the embattled Greer would openly promote passage of laws protecting the disabled from people like himself. Imagine him deciding the life of your child.

Words cannot possibly express how utterly distasteful and inappropriate Greer’s presence at such an event is. After all, he is supposed to be an unbiased, fair finder of fact and applicator of the law – not an advocate for the right-to-die movement. His presence at a symposium of this nature casts a very jaundiced eye on his ability to act as an impartial and fair jurist. The thought of him favoring a bioethics conference with a slant on death makes me shake in my shoes for any incapacitated person whose case comes before him.

In a word: this round up of goodfellas is ghastly and worthy of scrutiny.

Say what you want about your own desires and wishes, would you want this to be the crew making decisions for you?

While all of these men were charged – by either law or simple humanitarianism – to act with compassion and kindness to a woman so utterly vulnerable against them, they didn’t. Now – they are hanging together like the cast of a bad movie – taking their bows and spewing their nonsense and no one is asking the first question about the ethics of it.

Expect no less from a ‘bioethics’ symposium. 2-13-06

Pamela F. Hennessy is a marketing and media executive in Florida and has volunteered for the Terri Schindler-Schiavo Foundation (www.terrisfight.org) since November of 2002.

by Pamela F. Hennessy

Yet another case

Throughout the past few years of being active in the campaign to protect the life and basic rights of Terri Schiavo, I’ve been fortunate enough to meet a number of learned and thoughtful people in and around the disabled community.

Of those, a number of esteemed journalists, advocates and attorneys repeatedly called for a halt to the forced dehydration of Schiavo, based both on the grave injustice to her such an action would affect and on the shockwaves that would be felt throughout our country’s communities of vulnerable persons. Since Schiavo’s court-ordered death, several similar cases have come into public view — in Florida and from beyond the state’s borders. Of these cases, none have more plainly proven the points of Schiavo’s supporters than that of Haleigh Poutre.

Haleigh is a child with a serious problem. She suffered a traumatic brain injury in September of 2005 — allegedly, at the hands of her adoptive mother and step-father — and has been left in a debilitated state ever since. Upon being hospitalized, Haleigh was placed on a ventilator and began receiving nourishment by way of a gastric tube. Her care was made the responsibility of Massachusetts’s Department of Social Services (DSS).

DSS was not unfamiliar with the 11-year-old child. Indeed, the department had been tasked with investigating ongoing allegations of abuse against young Haleigh for years. Critics say they did too little, too late.

But, when Haleigh met with her dreadful injuries, it didn’t take the department long (not even a week, in fact) to move swiftly into action. They petitioned the courts for the authority to remove Haleigh’s life-saving medical treatment and allow her to die.

A single day after that state’s Supreme Court granted the department the power to take the actions that would ensure young Haleigh’s death, the girl experienced an upturn. Doctors now stated that hers was not a persistent vegetative state, as originally thought, but a minimally conscious state.

Naturally, brakes were jammed, Haleigh was transferred to a rehabilitation facility and her life was ultimately spared.

I tell you all of that in order to tell you this: it would not be unreasonable to demand a moratorium on dehydrating and starving vulnerable people to death and I’m not alone in my thinking. In fact, you’ve probably heard it before.

Vulnerable persons and the thin end of the wedge Prominent disability rights advocates, right-to-life proponents and members of both the healthcare and legal professions have long been warning the public of the intrinsic dangers of forcing profoundly disabled people to die by withholding ordinary care — such as enteral nourishment — from them.

Attorney and published author, Wesley J. Smith (Culture of Death; Forced Exit [in which he discusses the Wendland case]) has long admonished the practice of denying vulnerable people the basic provisions of food and water. Smith has taken to task the ‘bioethicists’ who have promoted the notion that unconscious people were better off dead than fed. He has stated, in books as well as countless editorials, that the practice would soon be applied to conscious but inconsistently responsive people and, thus would begin what he calls a “slippery slope” to the public and legal acceptance of medical killings.

So far, he’s been right.

A January 27, 2005 article in the Boston Globe about Haleigh Poutre’s case (Girl with damage to brain is sent to rehab center) states that the minimally conscious state (MCS) strengthens some arguments for the removal of medical care.

“…because such patients can feel pain, some medical ethicists said. Patients in a vegetative state, on the other hand, are oblivious to the agony that is part of their life.”

Of course, a neurological injury doesn’t go hand in hand with pain and I’m a little confused how one could be both ‘oblivious’ and in ‘agony’. Nevertheless, the article seems to insinuate that a new standard for denying people their basic rights to ordinary care is worth taking into consideration. Suggesting that a person with a severe neurological insult be given appropriate care — including adequate pain management if pain exists — just doesn’t come up.

So, ‘bioethicists’ have added yet another item to their dogpile of flimsy excuses for murdering innocent people. Ironic that it completely contradicts their previous pretext. If you’re unaware, you shouldn’t be made to hang around. If you are aware, you’re probably better off dead anyway.

It seems as if incapacitated people are damned if they do, damned if they don’t. Smith sees it as a slippery slope. I call it the thin end of the wedge. Some have even said it’s the opening of a flood gate. Whatever your euphemism is for the deprivation of ordinary care to the profoundly disabled, it still equates to murder.

Raising the bar on the disabled In 1996, attorney Diane Coleman, J.D., founded the disability rights organization known as Not Dead Yet. Coleman, in cooperation with other advocates, has been responsible for bringing the plight of disabled people into the eyes of a routinely indifferent public. Active as Amicus Curiae in the cases of Sidney Miller, Robert Wendland and Terri Schiavo, Coleman has been an outspoken opponent of dehydrating cognitively disabled people to death.

In both spoken and written word, Coleman has also rebuked ‘bioethicists’ for what she calls “raising the bar” on people who are unable to speak for themselves, based solely on their disabilities. She’s warned that the segments of people now considered better off dead would spider into new segments and bring about unspoken public policies that embrace the perception that the life of a disabled person is one not worth living.

So far, she’s been right.

The same January Globe article quotes Dr. Douglas Katz, a director of a traumatic brain injury center in this way:

“…many patients in a minimally conscious state can track movements with their eyes and even pick up objects. But only when they begin to pick up objects and use them appropriately are they believed to have gained a higher level of consciousness.”

This was his response to Haleigh Poutre successfully picking up a rubber duck on command, out of a group of three objects, and then a Curious George plush on command.

If hearing “pick up the duck”, processing the command mentally, carrying it out and then repeating the behavior successfully a second time don’t serve as proof of the young girl’s higher level of consciousness, Diane Coleman needs to start including the title ‘clairvoyant’ to her signature block. Simply stated, she nailed it years ago.

Perhaps Dr. Katz expected the traumatically injured and — as of that time — unrehabilitated girl to write a thesis on Curious George instead of complying with verbal commands. Had she, I’m almost certain I’d here yet another apologist for the ‘right-to-die’ crowd calling it a meaningless reflex.

A societal train wreck

The point of all of this is that what was once speculated upon is now coming to pass. The slippery slope has turned into a dead-drop and the raising of the bar has gone as high as the Empire State Building.

If you suffer a life-changing brain injury, extent of damage, your ability to respond, even your personhood simply don’t matter anymore. Someone somewhere will conjure up a palatable and oh-so compassionate excuse for offing you.

Perhaps the only way to put a stop to this brand of lunacy is to simply place a moratorium on removing the provisions of basic care from people with cognitive and neurological impairments. Cases like Haleigh Poutre’s certainly support such an argument in volumes and conscientious people should be moved by cases such as hers.

These, however, are not new arguments. They have been the precise points made throughout a number of ‘right-to-die’ cases, including Robert Wendland, Sidney Miller, Paul Brophy, Hanford Pinette, Michael Martin, Terri Schiavo, Marjorie Neighbert and countless others.

Some reporters will have you think that there is no connection between young Haleigh Poutre and the cases I’ve just mentioned, but there is and it’s sobering in its starkness. They are all exceptionally good reasons to rethink the hurried dehumanization of certain people that society views as weak and no longer of value.

They all serve as unfortunate and unforgettable reminders that any one of us could be next. The future, it seems, is a lot closer than we imagined.

Pamela F. Hennessy is a marketing and media executive in Florida and has volunteered for the Terri Schindler-Schiavo Foundation since November of 2002.

Thanks for reading “Colloquium”!

The first thing that struck me about the Schindlers is that they appeared to be utterly exhausted — physically, mentally, emotionally. Since Terri’s death last March, they have been traveling around the country speaking about the case, her death, and doing their best to educate families about the dangers they could face if a loved one becomes incapacitated. As I looked into their eyes and listened to them speak, it seemed incomprehensible to me that either of them could even get out of bed in the morning and concluded that they must be carrying on through a combination of sheer iron will and a deeply-held faith.

The Schindlers were not, until their whole nightmare began when Michael Schiavo decided to end Terri’s life, public people. And that is readily apparent both when you meet them in person and when you hear them speak. They are plainly still uncomfortable with public speaking, with Bob reading a prepared statement as Mary holds and turns the pages for him while standing next to him to support his efforts. He stops periodically to interject, clarify, or emphasize various points. Mary corrects him from time to time. It is obvious that these are just ordinary people who were thrust into a situation they could never have imagined or prepared for and had to do the best they could to deal with it.

I first became aware of Terri, her plight, and her parents’ bravery when my case, Conservatorship of Wendland, was pending here in California. I did a few radio appearances with Bob, most notably on KSFO with Barbara Simpson, “The Babe in the Bunker.” Barbara became interested in and outspoken about both cases. Bob and I corresponded via e-mail and spoke on the telephone. I gave him what little assistance I could offer, given that Terri’s case was unfolding in Florida under a different set of laws and her mental impairment more profound than Robert’s (an important point because, although George Greer, the Florida judge who issued Terri’s death sentence, found her to be in a persistent vegetative state (“pvs”), nobody even dared to suggest that Robert Wendland was pvs), making the Schindlers’ legal battle more daunting.

I don’t remember when I first heard that the Schindlers were coming to the end of their financial rope. I believe I heard it not directly from Bob, but from one of my friends at LLDF, but I am just not sure. I do know that Bob confirmed the fact at some point.

Apparently — I have no recollection of this at all — I advised Bob to contact LLDF to see if that organization could provide some financial assistance or other support with the fight to save Terri. Bob insisted during his remarks at the LLDF dinner that I referred him to that group and, had I not done so, their fight to save Terri, and her life, would have ended much sooner because LLDF did, in fact, assist the Schindlers.

WOW! I just sat there with my mouth hanging open because, as I said, I have no recollection of that conversation.

Moreover, because I don’t remember it, I had no appreciation that I played any part — no matter how small or inconsequential — in the battle for Terri’s life, other than providing moral and prayer support, sending some legal information (briefs, etc. that I filed here in California) to the Schindlers’ counsel on the chance that they might provide some helpful information, and speaking out (for all the good that did since I’m not a celebrity and have no platform) against what happened to Terri.

I have referred many, many people to LLDF over the years, so it would not have been out of character for me to give Bob the same information and advice. In fact, following the conclusion of the Wendland case, I had to change my cell phone number because it was placed on press releases and I was besieged with calls from people wanting me to take on their case, folks who just wanted to give me their opinion about the case (both sides — including a lot of people who just wanted to call me vile names and then hang up), authors hustling their books, etc. I routinely referred prospective clients to LLDF.

Bob’s revelation made me extremely uncomfortable not only because it was unexpected, but also because I was embarassed by my failure to remember the conversation.

You see, to me, it was “just another day.” Just another unremarkable conversation during which I (apparently) found myself giving out LLDF’s telephone number, assuring the caller that Mary Riley, their tireless Administrator and my dear friend, would provide guidance — and then getting back to whatever activity I was engaged in.

But, unbeknownst to me, the discussion was much more than that to Bob, Mary, and the Schindler family.

Again . . . WOW!

How often does this happen to us as we go about living our insanely busy lives? I’ve been thinking a lot about that question since November 12th.

And, more importantly, how often does this happen to us but we never find out about it later? In other words, how many times as we go about the routine of our daily lives do we have a profound impact upon someone else’s life that we never learn about later?

There is, of course, no way to know, no formula by which to compute an estimate. It is and will remain one of those “cosmic mysteries” that baffle and amaze us. But for me, at least, it has been worth pondering and I have found myself — not consistently, of course, because I am crazy busy and am on autopilot more often than I care to admit — trying to be more aware of my actions, my words, and their potential impact on others. That is, of course, the only thing that we can do in the face of our limitations, the uncertainties of life in general, and the fact that we can control our own actions and words, but not others’.