You just repeated what the advocates of forced euthanasia have been saying all along, yet somehow it makes more sense when you put it together into one post. Now I understand. It makes perfect sense. I can now forget all about Terri, and back off so it can happen to others. Some day, it will be my turn. After I die, and the death squad shows up to kill me (again), I too will sit bolt upright. But I'll be reading from a different script, and I don't think they'll like the final act.
That, of course, was the point of the exercise: the goats [to use the biblical term] cannot keep their stories straight. They have to portray her as dead or subhuman or unworthy of life in order to kill her. They have to hold their noses and claim that Terri herself asked to die, even though she had no capacity to do so. Their whole legal case rested on that one shabby, transparent lie.
I cherish different memories of Terri: not how low and horrid she was, but how sunny and alive she was despite her handicap. I love the stories of Terri sitting at the nurses' station "chatting" with the nurses and being pampered with bowls of pudding and jello. I was delighted to hear that Pat Anderson's husband painstakingly taught her two or three words. I was warmed by the special smile she had for her mother and her raucous laugh at her father's jokes. And best of all, I'm quite sure she got a crush on attorney David Gibbs.
The human spirit is amazing.