Terri's still unexplained injury was more severe than those commonly suffered in birth problems.
Long ago, we would visit a hospital where one of the patients (clients, they called them) was hydrocephalic. The little boy had been given a shunt and could wheel around on his own in a wheelchair. His prognosis was not good and we are sure he didn't last long. He couldn't have. The critical ingredient of his survival was gone.
His parents had dropped him off, then slipped out the door, changed their addresses, and disappeared forever. This poor kid had nobody, save a few decent nurses to even smile back at him. Yet, plucky, he kept his grin and would follow us all around on every visit, would panic each evening when we left. His parents were able to slam the door shut, so were spared his pleading to be held or having to return his warm smiles. They had decided to MoveOn.
Withdrawing love is a spiritual form of dehydration, lethal as well.