The voice Terri Schiavo never had

I've got a ceramic monkey that sits on the top shelf above my computer. It's one of those "speak no evil" monkeys -- you know, with its paws over its mouth. The only trouble is, I won't know who gets it if I die.

I'm 20 years old, and I don't have a will. That might sound a little premature and melodramatic, especially when you consider that the most valuable thing I own is the complete Family Guy DVD collection. I do, however, own something that is absolutely invaluable, and I'd like to know exactly what would happen to it should I be confronted with the prospect of an untimely demise.

To quote Bon Jovi: It's my life. My life, my self, is the most important thing in my possession. I'd like to believe that I have unadulterated autonomy over every bit of it, at any time or place. Unfortunately, I don't. That's because, along with a document that would bequeath a ceramic monkey and the Griffins to some long-estranged relative, I have no living will.

What is a living will? Also known as a "will to live" or "advance health care directive," a living will is a document that stipulates how you'd like to be treated and under what conditions physicians would be authorized to remove life support if you became terminally ill. You can also add a health care proxy -- which gives power of attorney to another person, usually a relative -- if you'd trust someone else to make the decisions for you should you become incapacitated. Basically, a living will is like an instruction manual for the malfunctioning appliance that might some day be your life.

Just how important is a living will? Ask Terri Schiavo.

Wait. You can't.

By now, we're all abundantly aware of the story of this brain-damaged Floridian who's at the eye of a political hurricane. Her husband and parents, the courts and Congress are duking it out to determine if her feeding tube should be removed, allowing her to slowly starve to death. Michael Schiavo claims that his wife told him that she would want to die if resigned to a "persistent vegetative state." Her parents, however, say that he doesn't have proof. They don't want their daughter to perish, and they say that she wouldn't want to die either. The biggest problem, of course, is that Terri has no say in all this.

After 14 years of litigation, torment and moral dissonance, one fact is clear: If Terri Schiavo had authorized a living will, a lot of people could have saved their breath and tears.

I don't mean to wish any premature quietus on anyone -- even if my roommate's boom box would look pretty fly atop my kickin' entertainment system -- but now is the time to write your living will. Experts recommend that anyone 21 or older should have a living will. That's good advice, since Schiavo was 26 when she became debilitated.

At this stage in life -- when our moral dispositions are largely developed, when we are finally legally responsible for ourselves and when, unfortunately, we could become profoundly disabled in any number of ways -- a living will makes a whole lot of sense.

Apparently, someone got the message. The Chicago Tribune reported yesterday that Aging with Dignity, an agency that drafts living wills, saw tenfold increase in clientele as a result of the Schiavo case. Still, some estimates claim that as much as 75 percent of the American adult population have no written directives.

How does one go about writing a living will? Lawyers, of course, are always a good place to start, but today, it's not even that difficult. Next time you're facebooking, take some time to look at www.uslivingwillregistry.com and the countless other sites that make the process easier. You won't regret it.

Choosing between life and death is, well, a life-and-death situation. It's a situation that you shouldn't put anyone else in -- your parents, your friends, your spouse -- when it's your life or death that's concerned. It might certainly be difficult, if not downright morbid, to consider a future in which pulling the plug is an option, but it's a future that you can and should have complete control over. Living wills do not guarantee that there won't be any legal fuss over your health care, but they go a long way in preserving dignity in a dire situation.

So who gets the ceramic "speak no evil" monkey? I'm not sure, since no one's been sufficiently sycophantic yet. One thing, however, is for sure: With a living will, I can ensure that I will have a voice.

Justin Tackett is a sophomore in the College from Pittsburgh. Word! appears on Tuesdays.

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