PINELLAS PARK, Fla. – What if Terri Schiavo could have keep a diary? What if, instead of being in a vegetative state, Ms. Schiavo had been in some kind of divinely omniscient, idiot savant state, all wise and all knowing? Would her comments about the controversy that swirled around her have been borne out by her subsequent autopsy?
March 24 (Thursday) – Another doofus got caught trying to bring me a bottle of water today. What did that jackass think I was going to do, sit up and say, “Oh, Poland Springs, my favorite. Thanks so much. I was getting a little dry. Where are you from? Would you like an autograph?” I wonder what part of “vegetative state” that bimbo didn’t understand. Is some Kmart in Arkansas missing a clerk? Who’s the brain-dead one here?
March 23 (Wednesday) – I wish Dad would do something about that stupid-looking mustache. It’s so 1980s. He thinks it makes him look “hip” and more attractive to women. How gross is that? I’m lying here with bed sores the size of Rhode Island, and he’s hoping to score with women. Oh well, if I were married to my mother, I’d be looking around myself. Parents are embarrassing enough in ordinary situations, but lucky me—I get to see mine with their faces plastered all over television and the newspapers. Gimme a break. I’ll be glad when their fifteen minutes—and mine—are over. It’s like I used to say to Michael: Who in their right mind would want to live like this?
March 22 (Tuesday) – Those crazies camped outside this place look like rejects from the Jerry Springer show. Where do mutants like that come from? I bet they arrived on the short bus. This one loony tune was blowing some kind of horn made out of a moose antler. Damn near kept me awake all night. I’m not half as scared of dying as I am that security will break down and those morons will actually get in here. What pathetic fools! They ought to get a life instead of wasting their time trying to save mine.
March 21 (Monday) – I can’t believe Congress hasn’t got anything better to do than pass legislation about my feeding tube. Rise to the occasion my ass. The only time those blowhards rise to the occasion is when they adjourn. Somebody ought to shove a feeding tube in them and see how they’d like it. And don’t get me started on Governor Bush. I about crapped when I found out he wanted to adopt me in order to save my life. I thought he was supposed to have the brains in that family. They’re the last people I’d want to be adopted by. Is he looking for a playmate for that mush-brained, Xanax-popping daughter of his or what?
March 20 (Sunday) – I feel sorry for the “health care professionals” who work in places like this. What kind of a “profession” is wiping people’s butts? How desperate would you have to be to sign up for that gig? Wasn’t Wal-Mart hiring that week? I also feel sorry for my husband, Michael, even if he did take up with another woman. I wish my parents would stop lying about him. He never abused me, and even if he had, do they really think people are going to believe he scared me into having a heart attack? They’re just pissed because he got all the malpractice money.
March 19 (Saturday) – Did my mother really say, “Stop the Insanity” on a TV interview yesterday? What was she doing, channeling that Susan Powter chick, the one with the dykes-R-us buzz cut who used to pimp her diet plan on TV? I understand ol’ Susan’s making a comeback. Must be out of rehab. Her new video, Trailer Park Yoga, does have a catchy title. Somebody ought to give one to my mother. She needs to relax and quit saying things like “Stop the Insanity.”
March 18 – (Friday) – Thank god the feeding tube’s gone. Those things itch. Besides, there’s way too many calories in that slush they were feeding me. It was making me fat. I got into my present medical “difficulties” because I was tired of being fat, and I wind up looking like Rosie O’Donnell in hospital drag anyway. How ironic is that? And how embarrassing to have newspapers outing me about my bulimia and my former weight. There are a lot worse things than making yourself throw up after eating. Furthermore, I only weighed 200 pounds for a day or two, and I was 5’4″ not 5’3″.
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