Terri Schiavo's Death Changed My Life
What It Was Like in the Eye of the Storm
By Megan Dillon, Director, Media Relations

On a Tuesday in late October 2003, I went to work just like I do every day. Only this day would not be like any other day. This day would change my life.

You see, in mid-October, upon court order, Terri Schindler Schiavo's feeding tube had been removed. Then, six days later, through a heroic act of the Florida legislature and Governor Jeb Bush, Terri's feeding tube was reinserted.

That Tuesday in October, my boss came into my office and explained to me that Terri's family, the Schindlers, and their attorney at the time, Pat Anderson, were overwhelmed with press calls. They were in desperate need of someone to help them organize all of the requests. Seemed simple enough to me - - so I volunteered to go down and help.

A few hours later, I was on a plane to Tampa.

As I flew down to Florida, it occurred to me that I didn't really know much about the specifics of Terri's case. It was on that plane ride that I began to really think - - to try to piece together what Terri's fight was all about.

Of course, in a number of ways, National Right to Life had quietly been very involved in trying to help Terri. And everyone in the office followed the case closely, but there were still questions.

Who was Terri? Why did some want her dead? Why weren't her parents, Bob and Mary Schindler, simply allowed to take their daughter home and care for her?

I spent two months in Florida in 2003, answering requests from the press to interview the Schindlers and Pat Anderson, negotiating with producers, and trying to monitor media coverage of Terri's case. Although this is what I do for National Right to Life, I was overwhelmed beyond belief with the sheer number of calls and with the ferociousness with which the media was determined to get an exclusive interview.

There were days that I took over 150 calls. At times, my cell phone actually shut down because the calls were coming in so rapidly.

The competition among journalists was fierce. I began to see an uglier side of the media than I was accustomed to, which says a lot, considering where I work and what I do.

Pro-lifers know that the only way to win the war over abortion and euthanasia is through changing the hearts and minds of people. We do this daily through education, example, and prayer.

I have learned in a real way that the same principle applies to getting accurate media coverage. We must take the time to educate reporters and television producers, lead by example, and pray for them.

It was while I was in the middle of this tremendous media storm that I learned that what often appears to be media bias is simply a product of a deep well of ignorance, incredible deadline pressure, and the insatiable appetite of cable news networks. So we began to go the extra

mile to calmly correct inaccurate stories, give reporters accurate information to work from, and try to make their difficult, hectic lives a little less frenzied.

At the same time I was developing a friendship with both the Schindler family and with Pat Anderson. It was not hard; they are wonderful people.

In getting to know them, I began to get to know Terri as well. They would regularly visit with Terri and tell me about it.

I remember calling Mr. Schindler one day. He explained that he was sitting at Terri's bedside and then he said to Terri, "Terri, I'm talking to Megan. She's here from Washington trying to help you. Can you say 'Hi' to her?"

I will never forget listening to Terri struggle to speak because her father had asked her a question. As chills went down my spine, I clearly remember thinking, "How can we even be debating whether she should live or die? Do we just kill people because they don't speak as well as we do?"

But in fact, in our country, people are killed because they don't speak as well as we do.

After the media calls quieted down in December, I returned to Washington. I had come home a different person.

I was incredibly inspired by the unconditional love and commitment of the Schindlers to their beloved Terri. Their fight to save her from a torturous death brought a whole new meaning to the battle between a "culture of death" and a "culture of life."

What once was a tragic but somewhat abstract story I had watched unfold on the news had become frighteningly real and deeply personal. Their commitment had rubbed off on me. I began to work with a renewed determination.

The next year and a half was a roller coaster of emotions. My heart never ceased to break every time I spoke to one of Terri's family members.

Their lives had been in a permanent state of panic for seven years. They woke up each and every morning knowing there were people who were determined that Terri die, and that she was relying on her family, against all odds, to save her.

Bobby Schindler would often say, "Terri hasn't given up on us and so we're not going to give up on her." And they didn't.

When the federal "Terri's Law" was passed and signed into law in March, we were elated. It seemed as if something had finally gone right.

Thanks to a bipartisan congressional effort, it appeared Terri's parents would be allowed to go into federal court to argue that her rights under the Constitution had been abridged. A picture taken that night ran last month in NRL News. It showed a smiling Bobby Schindler with various equally happy NRLC staff members.

For one brief shining moment, we had real reason to hope. But we were quickly proven wrong as court after court ignored Congress's intent, deferring to the conclusions of a one-sided trial court judge.

Shortly after the passage of the bill, I once again flew back down to Tampa to help with the flood of media calls. And once again, my cell phone rang incessantly with reporters and producers absolutely desperate to interview the Schindlers.

Only this time, the reporters were from all over the world. Calls came in from Germany, Hungary, New Zealand, and Brazil to name a few. Terri's remarkable saga had captured the interest of the international community.

Many of them were on site at the hospice, circling the room where the family would flee for refuge between visits with Terri. Many of them would just stand and wait until one of the family members left the building and then follow them to ask questions.

All the while, Terri lay in her room, dehydrating to death. Her family watched helplessly, prevented by court order from even wetting her lips with an ice cube.

It was a horror beyond words.

Each day she went without food and fluids brought with it the chilling reminder that Terri's suffering was intensifying. And yet, she continued to fight to stay alive.

At some point, it seemed to become obvious to even members of the press that the woman in the so-called "persistent vegetative state" did not WANT to die. There was a slow but perceptible shift in the coverage from many of the reporters and producers on site at the hospice.

Unlike their coworkers safely tucked away in their New York and Washington studios, they began to confront the fact that Terri, an innocent woman with a disability, was being killed.

There were some members of the press whose conduct bore out all the negative stereotypes pro-lifers sometimes have of them. But there were also many members of the press who began to talk to me about how sick they felt in trying to do their jobs under such circumstances - - how upset they were when they went back to their hotel rooms.

Some said that they could not sleep at night. A few actually cried when they discussed their frustrations. Terri's suffering, and the suffering that hers had caused her family, had softened some very hard hearts.

I believe that there is an important lesson to learn from this.

Many people, even people who would otherwise be correctly seen as "good" people, have distanced themselves from the reality of abortion and euthanasia. Not having to stare into the starving face of a helpless woman or watch a defenseless baby being torn limb from limb, they can discuss these grotesque mockeries of justice as "issues" and "rights" rather than confront them for what they are: acts that take innocent, defenseless lives in brutal, ugly ways.

We lost Terri, but Terri's family and people like you and me are determined that her death will not be in vain. We must and we will continue to fight on behalf of all of those people like Terri, wrestling against the pro-death forces who have convinced themselves that the lives of people like Terri are not worth living.

It has been an honor to be one small voice in a chorus of voices who spoke out on behalf of Terri.

Terri, thank you. You taught me more than I can ever express.