Of eating and vegetables

Apparently, the two most common words in any language on earth are "Terry Schiavo". Nobody who has any access whatsoever to any media outlet in the known universe has the capacity to speak of anything but that woman who is surrounded by psychos on all sides either allowing her to starve to death or proclaiming that doing so will bring down the eternal wrath of an angry god and decimate all known existence forever.
I have told anybody who will listen to PLEASE LET ME STARVE TO DEATH if I'm ever in a persistant vegetative state, just so there's no freaking doubt about my wishes. Being really damn hungry for a couple of weeks is better than fifteen years of half-life in my book. But then again, that's just me. What did she want?
Is this lady's husband lying about a conversation they supposedly had watching TV a few years back? Possibly. If he's telling the truth, though, how could we do anything but respect her wishes? As a matter of law, there is no doubt whatsoever that things have proceeded in an orderly way. I sure as hell want Shawna to be able to make those decisions if I'm ever in that situation. In either case, every reputable neurologist that has personally examined her (Terry Schiavo, not Shawna) has concluded that her cerebral cortex is pretty much soup and that there is no hope for recovery. I'm not as enthusiastic about starving her as some seem to be, but after everything else this lady has been through, after fifteen years as a vegetable, unless somebody can show me compelling evidence that these were not her wishes, then I can only greet her passing with somber acceptance.