Herb Sendeck and a More Weighty Issue

The “Factual” Dog wasn’t so factual about the Wolfpack the other night. Instead of winning 68-62, they lost 64-55. She claims it was the meds that caused her to be so very, very wrong. I have my doubts.

We both like Herb Sendeck, as he has certainly managed to get the Pack into the NCAAs enough times. And he always puts on a strong show at the ACC Tournament. But he never wins either event. Remember being up by 20 against Maryland in the 2004 semis? They lost. How about being up by 13 against Dook in the 2003 finals? They lost. And, oh yea, how about the 1997 ACC tournament finals against UNC? They lost.

The problem is simple, Herb is a poor closer. Should they fire him? No. Let’s see what happens next year. They had injury issues this year. Anyway, we mustn’t dwell. Baseball in DC is days away.

So, the dog is looking at me as if she has something to say. “What is it?” I ask.

“Well”, she says in that matter-of-fact bark of hers, “Isn’t it about time we get to some more weighty issues?”

I reply, “You’re not talking about that Terri Schiavo are you? I’m sick of hearing about that every minute of the day.”

“Of course I’m talking about Terri Schiavo. You say that this blog is about ‘everything in life that matters’, as well as ‘politics’. So your thoughts on this subject are worth noting for posterity, if nothing else. You really can’t back out of this one. That is, if you – or anyone else – is going to take this blog seriously”.

“OK, I get it”, I tell her, “But be careful of what you ask for.”

So this is how I break this issue down:

Reasonable, well informed people seem to disagree on whether Mrs. Schiavo is in a vegetative state or at some minimum level of consciousness. Either way, she is not on “life support”. She is fed by a feeding tube. Life support involves machines artificially operating a key organ, such as the heart, the lungs, or the kidneys. There is a big difference. By removing the feeding tube, they are not ‘letting her die’. They are killing her. So let’s put that to rest right now.

The only reason they kill her that way, rather than via lethal injection or smothering her with a pillow, is to ease the guilt feelings and soften the image of the people doing the deed. Certainly, they don’t starve her to death for her benefit. After all, if she does have some level of consciousness, she is dying a terrible, tortuous death. And if she is truly brain dead, why not just inject her with something that would immediately arrest the heart and get it over with?

If a person is unquestionably brain dead, then it is not morally wrong to cause the heart to stop beating. But who gets to make that decision? The spouse probably should have first call on that, assuming that the doctors and judges are in 100 percent agreement on her state, the latest technology has been used to make the determination, and the spouse has no conflicts of interest.

If, for some reason, the spouse wants to sustain the patient’s body in a situation meeting the above criteria, he or she should pay for it. In the event the spouse does not want to sustain the patient, and a parent, brother or sister wants to step in and say, “No, I will take responsibility for the patient, and will pay to keep the body alive”, then he or she should be allowed to do so.

The surviving spouse should be given the opportunity to divorce the patient and marital assets should be transferred to him or her, without any restrictions on their use. In the event that the patient somehow miraculously recovers, there would be a messy situation in trying to get the assets back. From the patient’s standpoint, that would be “a good problem to have”, as they say. How ever that issue is settled, the immediate family would be responsible for ongoing financial support.

For this solution to work, the surviving spouse cannot have a conflict of interest. The automatic transfer of the assets should take care of that. There may be emotional conflicts as well, such as is the case with Mike Schiavo, who has two kids with another woman. He didn’t do anything wrong by being with this other woman. The relationship developed years after Terri’s being declared brain dead. He needed to move on with his life. However, the situation does create a conflict of interest that cannot be ignored.

Also, hearsay evidence regarding the patient’s wishes should be very cautiously used in determining the patient’s fate. Michael Schiavo somehow remembered, seven years after his wife had been hospitalized, that at one point in the 1980s they were watching something on TV about a person on life support, and Terri said that if she were ever in that position, she would want the plug pulled. This “repressed” memory surfaced only after he had begun living with another woman. How many people with opinions on this issue are even aware of this fact?

Two things are wrong with Mr. Schiavo’s story: (1) While it is possible that she said she wanted to have the “plug pulled” if she were ever brain dead, it is hard to believe that she specifically said, “If I am ever in a state of minimal consciousness on a feeding tube, please disconnect it so I can die of thirst”; and (2) Michael’s conflict of interest throws this story in doubt, no matter how hard one might want to believe it. The Factual Dog believes that if hearsay evidence cannot be relied upon to send a murderer to the death chamber, then it certainly has no place in this circumstance.

The issue of determining brain-dead status is, admittedly, a bit out of the Factual Dog's domain. Aside from about 63 percent of the people who supported Howard Dean and John Kerry last year, I’m really not sure what a brain dead person looks like. But I would assume that the determination of brain-dead status would involve the latest technologies, such as CAT scans and PET scans. But Michael Schiavo blocked these tests from being done, as if he was afraid the tests might tell him something he did not want to hear. He also blocked any kind of therapy for the woman, which, although unlikely, might have helped her at least partially recover.

Which brings me to the political aspect of this affair. I am really scratching my head about over the question of why so many people feel emotionally committed to seeing her killed.

The answer cannot be that they care abut what is best for her. If they did, then they would be in a logical thicket. Think about it: If she is brain dead, then she cannot have any senses of any sort. So killing her wouldn’t be putting her out of her misery, because she is incapable of experiencing misery. So what harm is done if her immediate family wants to step in and take responsibility for her because they believe in miracles? On the other hand, if she is capable of experiencing misery, then she isn’t brain dead and killing her is murder.

I also don’t think folks are so revved up over this because of their concern for Michael Schiavo. After all, when was the last time you saw anyone on the Left get all bent out of shape in fighting for the rights of a husband to dictate control over his wife? This is hypocrisy. Michael Schiavo, by many reports, is not a very nice fellow. For crying out loud, he allegedly remembered his wifes wishes to not be kept alive only after $400,000 was placed in a medical trust for her. And the Left wants to stake out a position in his defense as the single person who should decide on life or death?

The emotions may also come from people who somehow see this case as a proxy for the abortion debate. The Dog will weigh in on that issue soon enough. They see this as a wedge to drive between religious conservatives and other types of conservatives, such as the Factual Dog, and they just enjoy pouring gasoline on that particular fire. As an added bonus, how often do they get an emotional, headline-grabbing issue that catches not one, but TWO Bushes in a political dilemma?

Finally, and this one really hits the mark straight on: There is a huge gaggle of people out there who are consumed with hatred for evangelical Christians. When they see that evangelical Christians are supporting one point of view on an issue, these people instinctively migrate to the opposite position and put on their battle armor. We here at the Factual Dog are neither “evangelical” Christian, in the popular sense of the word, nor do we have any cultural affinity with moral majority types. Quite the opposite on many “values” issues. However, the Left loves to stir up a big fuss whenever a small group of fundamentalist Christian types show up on television with their placards and chants. The Left wants all of America to think that that is how ALL Christians, and by association, Republicans, look like.

To sum up my thoughts on this case, if the parents want to take the financial responsibility for Terri, they should be able to do so. The judges should discount anything Michael says with respect to her wishes due to his financial and emotional conflicts of interest. Finally, the court should significantly raise the bar used to determine whether a patient is brain dead of not. In short, I simply don’t see why we shouldn’t let Terri’s parents take care of her, and let Michael Shaivo go his separate way, unencumbered by any ties to Terri.

Pooch has had enough. She gets a treat today. Hopefully the Lyme disease is getting better. Her nose, which was warm all last week, is cold today, so that’s good.

March Madness

The dog is tired tonight. She is on medication for, of all things, lyme disease. All she wanted to talk about was basketball and how lame the games have been so far tonight. Illinois and Louisville. Yawn. Let's get some ACC action on. WVA and Texas Tech are playing now. We really don't like Bobby Knight, and WVA is nearby. So we suppose we are cheering for the Mountaineers. Still, how fun would a Coach K/Knight matchup be? Either way, it doesn't matter. NC State, she says, will win tomorrow night by a score of 68-62. They don't know hoops in Wisconsin. They know sausages, cheese, and beer. Not bad, but tobacco road it ain't. What is the over/under on that one? Must be the one of the lowest in history. Really should lay some money down.

Introducing The Factual Dog

As part of a fifth grade assignment, I kept a daily journal, or log, for the entire school year. I saved that journal for many years. At some point in my twenties, it disappeared; probably during one of the many moves I made during that period of my life.

All I remember of that log was the first entry, in which I described how I spent the day. In school, we were introduced to the “New Math” that was all the rage among the education establishment in the 1970s. Our teacher, Mrs. Snell, began the first day’s lesson with a single, memorable question to the class: “Has anyone ever talked to you about sets?”

Being some distance from the front of the class, and perhaps distracted by a little blond girl named Christine who I had a crush on, I thought Mrs. Snell had said “sex”.

Not that sex was on my mind. I’m fairly certain that I had, at best, a sketchy idea of the notion. That education came in the sixth grade, when I read Jaws and, with my own jaw dropped wide open, was inadvertently exposed to the steamy details of the extramarital affair between Dr. Hooper and Chief Brodie’s wife. That part of the book didn’t make it into the movie.

Anyway, I thought Mrs. Snell had said “sex”, and that caught my attention. It sure took my mind off of Christine. My attraction to her was based on something I couldn’t put my finger on, but certainly nothing as remote in my mind as sex. Once Mrs. Snell began to enlighten us on sets, I quickly realized that I had heard her wrong, and that today’s lesson wasn’t going to be as awkward or fascinating as I momentarily thought it would be. My mind began to wander away again, just as it had done in every classroom since kindergarten began in 1968, and would continue to do though the end of business school in 1998.

The New Math, as it turned out, was basically a load of crap. I am comfortable making this statement, notwithstanding the fact that I got a C in math in the fifth grade. I just thought it was an incredibly roundabout way to teach some fairly simple and logical concepts. I figured the “old” math out well enough on my own, and that has worked for just fine for me.

During recess that day, I played on Log City, the immense, one-of-a-kind log play structure behind our school. Log City was the coolest playground in the universe. Made entirely of wood, it featured at least 300 ways for kids to get hurt on each of its three levels. Four log ends, each about 10 feet long, protruded from the top floor. Truck tires dangled from heavy duty chains attached to the log ends to form old-fashioned tire swings. On one side of Log City was a sort of log ladder, about 10 feet wide and leaning over about 45 degrees. The rungs were made of logs about a foot thick, with just enough room between them for an elementary school-age kid to get his foot caught in as he climbed down.

When we got enough kids stamping our feet in unison on the top of Log City, we could make it shake enough for us to think that it was going to topple over. From a structural engineering standpoint, we were probably close to making it do just that. But Log City provided about the most fun a nine-year old could find during the average elementary school recess hour. We loved it.

Of course, Log City did cause me my share of grief. In the sixth grade, probably about the same time I was undergoing my literary deflowering, courtesy of Peter Benchley’s shark attack-disguised-as-sex yarn, I cut my neck on the sliding board. As I hurtled down the colossal sliding board from the second story of Log City on a crisp winter day, the hood of my coat got caught in an exposed bolt sticking out from one of the logs. My coat was of the kind that every kid wore in the mid-1970s, with ersatz fur trim around the hood. The fur trim was intended by the little kid coat designers, I’m sure, to confer a sense of arctic adventure on their pint-sized consumers. The zipper pinched hard into the skin of my neck right below the Adams apple and cut deeply. To this day, people still ask me about the scar. I usually demur with a soft-focus voice, “I’m not ready to talk about that yet”.

About fifteen years later, just after I graduated from college, Log City was listed by some do-good safety group as being among the ten most dangerous playgrounds in the United States. It was promptly torn down.

Since then, Tuckahoe’s playground has been transformed into the “Tuckahoe Discovery Schoolyard Project”. It even has its own web page and “mission statement”:

"The Tuckahoe Discovery Schoolyard Project is a shared vision of the principal, teachers and parents at Tuckahoe to expand the school learning environment to the natural world. The mission is to create an exemplary, educational schoolyard. Principal Brown explains, "Our use of outdoor classrooms encourages broad-based learning that taps into the strengths and interests of all our students. It promotes interconnectedness on two levels - by blending the entire learning community and bringing so many areas of the curriculum together in a real-life setting."

Log city didn’t have a mission statement. Perhaps that was its downfall. Instead of swinging from tires and playing tag, the kids now have “interconnectedness” to look forward to at the recess bell.

In my journal entry that first day of school, I also introduced my friend Trey, who I described as my best friend. I lost touch with Trey after elementary school. Even though we went to the same junior high and high schools, we developed different pursuits and naturally went our separate ways. About 10 years ago, sometime after I turned 30, I ran into Trey in the beer aisle at the Giant. We talked for a few minutes, picked up our six packs, and bade farewell. There was no sentimental journey back in time. We were friends when we were little, but we’ve both changed a great deal since then. So has the world around us.

So what has happened to the world and me since that first day of fifth grade in September 1973? If I had kept that log updated, I could do a much better job of answering that question. The best I can do is sum things up in an endless list of broad generalizations: I grew up. Educational methods have evolved. Society is more litigious. There are more people everywhere.

In short, I have a good idea of how things used to be, and how they are now. I just don’t have a very good handle on how we got from there to here.

So this web log, or blog, is a continuation of that journal I started, and stopped, over thirty years ago. I will record my own observations, thoughts and experiences, and include the contributions of others, living and dead, as I see fit. The objective of the Factual Dog is simple: whatever the world and I look like 30 years from now, I will be able to better explain how we got there than I can describe the evolution of the last 30 years today.