November 1994, Susan LaHam Wood, my wife of 20 years flew to Chicago for the weekend; she was a presenter at the Call to Action conference. She was doing a woman's spirituality workshop. Brother Joseph was doing a man's; the next day they did one for men and women together; Sunday she lead 1200 people in an guided meditation. Our friend James drove her to her sister's house, on the way they stopped in a park along the way, James took pictures of her with the autumn trees in the back ground. She was radiant, glowing, and oh so beautiful.

She had dinner at her sister's house, after which they sat in the living room for a cup of tea, Susan took a sip, looked up and said, "oh," and died. Julie started CPR while my niece called 911. The paramedics were there within ten minutes, after forty-five minutes the ER doctor came out, Julie sent him back, they got her started again.

Jane, her younger sister called just after midnight Monday morning, a chill went through me when the phone rang. Robbie, it's Susan, it's not good, she's in the hospital; there were pauses between her words, now there was a sob. We have a flight booked for you in the morning, Mike will pick you up and drive you to the airport. They have her on a respirator, she's in a coma, it doesn't look good, the doctors don't know.

The briefing was attended by her father, brother, and sister along with myself, they had found no cause, the CAT scan and all the other tests were negative, there is no brain activity, we don't expect any, she was down too long, she is on a heart monitor, respirator, and a feeding tube, she can remain this way indefinitely or die anytime.

Susan and I were present when our friend David Sandy passed from cancer. We circled the bed provided by hospice in his living room holding hands, praying, singing, crying. As David took his last breaths the ceiling of the room seemed to recede, I felt a presence above like a hand reaching down and taking his spirit away. The only other experience I can compare my feeling with was being there as my son's were born. We had experienced David's birth into a new life, his body was done, but his spirit lived on, a life transition.

When I got to Susie, her spirit was already gone. I had all along thought to myself that all I had to do was be with her hold her hand and everything would be all right again, as I had told her so many times in our life, don't worry it will be all right, I lost my hope. Family and friends gathered, after one of the briefings her father said to me that I had some hard decisions to make. Hard decision, Susan and I had heard that one before.

When she was pregnant with Michael, our third son we were given options; Stephen, our second son, two years earlier had been born with Spina Bifida, two unformed vertebras in his lower back allowed his spinal cord to loop out of the track and form a bubble on his back, at four hours of age they opened his back and let his spinal cord fall back in place. We had the abortion option; the only decision we had was where we would have the baby, so we could be prepared. Testing showed later that Michael did not have any defects. Stephen walks with the help of braces and now has provided me with a granddaughter.

Christopher my nephew was thrown into the state of constant seizures at the age of six months, it was only after attending a healing mass that they stopped., but the damage was done. Chris is now in his twenties, but still requires all the aid of an infant. He is happy and able to recognize those closest to him. It takes a saint to care for such people. What's the difference, he has a level of awareness.

On the fifth day, the last of her family had arrived, I gave consent for them to remove the breathing tube, and if she could survive on her own so be it. I walked to the chapel, prostrated myself and asked for forgiveness, I then walked out of the hospital and sat with a friend on the table under the trees. A short time later as I was watching the sun set one of my angels called from the door, I started to run, but then walked to the room. She took her last breath and was quiet, her brother sobbed on the other side of the room. The nurse informed us that we had just a little more time, Stephen left the room, by myself now I said goodbye, I kissed her one last time on the forehead, she was cold. The nurse returned to the room saying, you can have more time if you wish, but I am sorry to say we need the room. You are much too busy here, I wish to thank you and all the others for the compassion that you have shown me this week. She walked away with tears in her eyes.

What would I have done if she survived?

I took this time to write this because of what's happening today with Terri Schiavo. Life is precious and should be lived fully, but we also need to know when to let go. Quality of life must be considered. Five years ago I flew to California to my father's bedside, he was in great pain, he could not communicate. When I told him I was there he said two words, "Help me." No one else in the family could take the responsibility of letting him go, with the help of Hospice, Dad grunted that he knew who I was and that I could sign for him, they cut back on the drugs that were keeping him alive and gave him others that took away the pain and he relaxed; four days later he passed. As far as I know those were his last two words.

When it's your time, it's your time, miracles do happen, I have seen them; we need to know when to let go. These decisions are made every day; I wouldn't want to have someone tell me that I couldn't make these decisions, especially at the time that they were made. When my time comes, I want to be respected. Where do we draw the line, Death is just a transition.

Rob Wood, March 24, 2005

I too was left to die a horrible pain filled death. Following a high speed auto crash caused by a careless driver. 4 Georgia E.R. Doctors sent me home to die stating there was nothing any doctor could do for me. I have paper work and proof on my body of being dead three hours and God raised me from dead. If the State of Florida lets Terri die the wrath of God shall make desolste both Georgia and Florida this year.
The pope has been struck dumb and will die before pentacost never able to speak another word.
I need to get to Terri and lay hands on her. I need to baptize her under Matt;28:19 and annoint her with the Holy Oil. Then God will do the rest.
Minister Of God Almighty He Chose
Ray E. Cunningham/Jehovah's Angel

Let me tell you about Tom. A composer, musician and singer, a popular performer in Buffalo clubs, suffered a brain aneurysm and subsequent stroke that led to two brain surgeries.

Tom was 33 years old at the time this traumatic brain injury occurred that left him in a coma. He adored and was adored by his wife Judy and they both cherished their children, Stephanie and Jordan.

The medical personnel assigned to Tom's care jumped to a conclusion too quickly about his prospects and gave up before they had to. Nurses remarked, in Tom's hearing, about the hopelessness of his situation and how they declined to take routine measures to avoid "foot drop" or other preventive steps because they had given up on him.

But Tom didn't give up and neither did his family.

Although he had to have surgery to correct the painful problems caused by the unnecessary foot drop, Tom can walk today.

He cannot speak normally, but he can speak in his own way and many of us close to him have learned to communicate with him in "his language."

Because of muscle atrophy and the tracheotomy he had, we were told he'd never be able to swallow whole food. Tom's favorite thing always was, and is today, a peanut butter sandwich. He has one for lunch every day, usually followed by a bowl of ice cream. I guess they forgot to tell him he couldn't swallow.

Does Tom want to live like this? Of course not. He wants to play his guitar and sing and compose. He wants to play with his children and share intimacy with his wife. He wants to put up the Christmas lights and cut the grass.

But does he find his life worth living as it is? Yes, he does. Because he can see his beautiful children grow. He can watch ER with Judy and listen to himself and others on CDs. He can ride through the neighborhood on his motorized wheel chair and feel the sun on his face.

Sometimes the quality of life is determinant on small things that please the heart and soothe the soul. It is the patient's right to evaluate the quality of his or her life, not a bioethicist or a medical committee, because no one exists within that patient's heart and soul but the patient.