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Before fight over death, Terri Schiavo had a lifeFriends say she loves animals, struggles with shyness
PINELLAS PARK, Florida (AP) -- Diane Meyer can recall only one time that her best friend, Terri Schiavo, really got angry with her. It was in 1981, and it haunts her still. The recent high school graduates had just seen a television movie about Karen Ann Quinlan, who had been in a coma since collapsing six years earlier and was the subject of a bitter court battle over her parents' decision to take her off a respirator. Meyer says she told a cruel joke about Quinlan, and it set Terri off. "She went down my throat about this joke, that it was inappropriate," Meyer says. She remembers Terri saying she wondered how the doctors and lawyers could possibly know what Quinlan was really feeling or what she would want. "Where there's life," Meyer recalls her saying, "there's hope." Twenty-two years later and suffering from brain damage, Terri is now the subject of a similar debate -- and so is the question of what choice she would make about her life and death. She has not been fully conscious since collapsing in 1990 at age 26 from what doctors have said was a potassium imbalance that stopped her heart. In contrast to Meyer's recollection, her husband, Michael Schiavo, and members of his family have said Terri told them she would not want to be kept alive artificially if she were incapable of getting better. Michael Schiavo petitioned in 1998 to remove Terri's feeding tube. The courts have ruled Terri is in a persistent vegetative state and last week approved the request. But after six days during which Terri had no food or water, the tube was restored Wednesday by order of Gov. Jeb Bush, who acted on a bill rushed through the Legislature. Amid the swirl of court filings and the cries of protesters, family and friends say people seem to have forgotten that Terri is a person. That before people became obsessed with whether she should die, she had a life. A shy childTheresa Marie Schindler was born December 3, 1963, to a well-to-do family in the Philadelphia suburbs. The oldest of three children, she was always shy and retiring. Her mother, Mary, says Terri would spend hours in her room, arranging her more than 100 stuffed animals into a private zoo. Always heavy, Terri hated sports, except horseback riding, which fed her love for animals. Terri never said anything about her weight, but her mother always sensed it bothered her. "She cried a lot when she went to get clothes," Mrs. Schindler says. Terri didn't go to school dances, not even her senior prom. Instead, she and her friends would go to the movies. Meyer remembers they went to see "An Officer and a Gentleman" four times in one day. She was a fan of the TV show "Starsky and Hutch." Her friend Sue Pickwell says she figures she and Terri wrote hundreds of letters to co-star Paul Michael Glaser, and "I remember the excitement when they finally wrote back, or their people wrote back." Head over heelsTerri enrolled in Bucks County Community College with the goal of working with animals, and there she met Michael Schiavo. Mrs. Schindler says Terri was head over heels. "It was the first guy who ever, ever paid any attention to her," she says. Meyer says Terri talked about how handsome Schiavo was and how he was always telling her she was beautiful. He was the "Officer and a Gentleman" to a chubby girl who had lived vicariously through Danielle Steele romances, Meyer says. After a little more than a year of dating, the two were married in 1984. Terri wrote to her favorite entertainer, John Denver, to ask him to sing at her wedding, but he never replied. By a year later, Terri had gained back some of the weight she had lost since high school. Meyer says Terri told her that Schiavo had seen her high school graduation picture and warned her "if she ever got fat like that again he'd divorce her." "I said, 'He's probably kidding,"' she says. "But it was upsetting to her." Scott Schiavo, Michael's brother, says it was the Schindlers who rode Terri about her weight. He says her brother sometimes showed one of Terri's old driver's licenses for a laugh. 'If I'm gone, just let me go'In 1986, the couple moved to Florida. Schiavo managed restaurants, and Terri got a clerk's job at an insurance agency. Mrs. Schindler says Terri began complaining that Schiavo never wanted to go anywhere. When she would go visit her parents or a friend from work, Mrs. Schindler says, Schiavo would check the mileage on her car. "She could go to those places," she says. "Any other place, he gave her crap." Jackie Rhodes, who worked and socialized with Terri, says Schiavo would frequently call his wife at work and leave her in tears. She says she and Terri had each discussed divorcing their husbands and moving in together. "We actually discussed how much we could afford and where we would want to live," she says. But Scott Schiavo, Michael's brother, says he wasn't aware of any trouble in the marriage. And when the couple went to his grandmother's funeral, Scott Schiavo says, Terri told him she would not want to be put on a respirator, as the grandmother had been. "Terri turned around and looked right in my eyes, and I can still see her sitting there on my lefthand side," he recalls, repeating testimony he gave in court. "'If I'm gone, just let me go."' Bobby Schindler says his sister began talking about leaving Schiavo in 1989. "She said she wished she had the strength or the energy or the know-how to get a divorce," he says. By this time, Terri's weight had dropped below 120 and Mrs. Schindler says she confronted her daughter about how thin she was getting. Terri's reply: "I eat, Mom. I eat." Potassium disorders and heart failure have been linked to anorexia, but the family doesn't think Terri had a real eating disorder. Doctors have never been able to say with certainty what caused the collapse. The day before she collapsed, Terri had complained to her mother that she was having menstrual problems, and that she wasn't satisfied with her doctor. Mrs. Schindler said they'd get together after the weekend and find her a new one. They never got to. 'She's not a cause'
Terri is 39 now, living in a hospice in Pinellas Park, where she spends most of her days alone in a single room. Her family says she laughs when they play John Denver for her and follows them with her eyes. Doctors say those are unconscious responses. Michael Schiavo, who has since become a registered nurse and has a daughter with his girlfriend, could not be reached for comment. Scott Schiavo says his brother is trying to let Terri die with dignity. "When it sunk into Mike's head, Mike decided to stop being selfish. 'I can't bring her back, and I've got to grant her wish."' he says. "The bottom line is that Mike never wanted this to be a side show." Her family and friends say they love her, too, and think she can get better with therapy. And they are just as convinced that she would not want to be let go. One thing they are sure of. She would not like all this attention and fuss over her. "She's not a cause," Meyer says. "She's a person. A very special person." Copyright 2003 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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