Monday Morning Crisis Quarterback

Jonathan Foster was a 12-year-old boy living with his mother in Houston.  Two weeks ago, a family friend and her child moved in after the friend separated from her husband.  Last Friday, Jonathan stayed home alone while his mom and her new roommate both worked.  When his mother came home, he was gone.  Initially, it seemed like Jonathan might have run away from home, but on Tuesday his body was found, burnt, in a ditch.  An acquaintance of the roommate has been arrested and charged with his murder.

I can't imagine anyone reads a story like this and thinks anything positive.  This is not a feel good news story.  There are some of you out there who read this and think something like, "that's too bad" and move on.  There are others who read this and feel a punch in your stomach.  I am definitely of the latter category.

So, am I an inherently more sensitive person?  Am I morally superior because I notice and care?  Am I weaker, because I am more easily affected?  Is it a female thing?  I'll say it's "none of the above."

This story punches me in the gut for the simple reason that I have a 12-year-old child of my own.  Sometimes she stays home alone while I work.  We have gone over and over various safety rules for when she's alone, and I believe she follows them.  I also recognize, however, that Jonathan probably broke the one that's hardest to remember -- don't open the door for an unexpected visitor even if you know them.  Even if you know them.  It's easy to say in theory, but how may 12-year-olds would find it easy to keep the door closed if the neighbor, an aunt, or a family friend stopped by?  There's the rule, and then there's common courtesy.

I feel a punch in the gut because there is nothing in this story that makes me believe this could not happen to my family.  There is no, "I would never let my child do that" or "My child would never do that" for me to fall back on.  What separates my family from Jonathan Foster's family is depending on how you look at it, dumb luck or the fact that, as far as I know, I'm not acquainted with anyone who would kidnap and burn my child.  That I know of.  I'm sure Jonathan's mother thought the same thing.

Our minds are wired to look for patterns in stories like this.  We look for signals that can help us either know how to prevent such an incident from happening to us or can help convince us that it couldn't happen to us.  The punch in the gut isn't from being caring or sensitive or weak or female.  It's the result of the realization, conscious or not, that the signals, rather than protect or reassure us, are telling us we can't prevent this at all.

Abby Guerra, 19, and Marlena Cantu, 21, along with three of their high school friends, were returning to Arizona from Disneyland on July 18 when the SUV they were riding in blew a tire, lost control and rolled over several times.  Reports on that day said that Guerra was killed at the scene and Cantu was in critical condition.  Another friend died at the hospital, and the remaining two were severely injured.  This, by itself, would be an awful situation.

Guerra's autopsy was a relatively low priority, and the county coroner was very busy, so it was scheduled for Friday, July 23.  On Saturday, July 24, her dental records were compared and the startling discovery was made that the body in the Maricopa County morgue was not Abby Guerra.  It was Marlena Cantu.  Abby was in critical condition in the hospital with Marlena's family surrounding her.  Abby's family was planning her funeral, but she wasn't dead.

This sort of thing should not happen, and for the most part it doesn't.  There was a similar case in Indiana in 2006, but such mix-ups are, as they should be, the exception.  This is the cruelest kind of mistake.

When someone we love is suddenly killed or seriously injured, the situation feels surreal.  The most typical reaction to the news is, "This can't be true."  Many people actually say those exact words, sometimes over and over and over.  In this incident, it actually wasn't true.  Guerra's family spent a week trying to grasp the reality of the situation, only to discover that they were, basically, right in the first place -- this wasn't real.  Cantu's family, has the awful reverse -- having spent the week very worried but grateful she was alive, they have found out that she isn't. 

The worst of it, for Marlena Cantu's family, is not just that she is dead.  That by itself would be bad enough, and by itself would cause them to say "this can't be true."  But, on top of that, they have a very real reason to believe that it might not be true.  After all, if Guerra can be thought dead and actually be alive, why can't Cantu?  And while you and I, looking from the outside in, may know that's not going to happen, and while the Cantus may know it on some level as well, one can hardly blame them if they have trouble accepting it.

Aside from disbelief, I would expect the Cantus to also be experiencing some anger.  First of all, for obvious reasons, they are probably mad at emergency personnel, medical personnel and the medical examiner for getting this wrong in the first place.  It would be understandable as well if they were mad at the Guerras on some level.  This is a zero sum game -- one woman is dead and one is alive -- and so, on some level, the fact that Guerra is alive appears to cause Cantu's death.  That isn't a rational statement, but people who have just suddenly lost a loved one are not in a particularly rational place.  If they're like a lot of people, they're mad, they know they shouldn't be mad, and they're mad at themselves for being mad.  That doesn't help much, but it's hard to avoid.

My heart certainly aches for both of these families, for the mix up, for the accident, for the struggle Abby Guerra is now engaged in for her survival, and for the emotional roller coaster they will be on for a long, long time.

Ninety-seven people on a Polish government flight were killed in a plane crash in Russia yesterday.  The group was on their way to a memorial service honoring some 22,000 Poles who were killed at Katyn by the Soviets in 1940.  Thirty-seven government officials, including the President and First Lady, are among the dead.

Frequent Quarterbacker Edwin wrote yesterday with the following thought:

As I thought about it, I realized how crazy it was that the President of a country, all of the command of the armed forces, the head of the national bank and clergy, and members of parliament would all be on the same plane - a small plane going to a remote Russian village in foggy conditions.  Clearly, there has to be something wrong with that.  Isn't there?

I'm not sure I'm in a position to answer that question.  Certainly it's not uncommon to have multiple members of a government on a single flight.  We can all imagine that if Air Force One went down, it might kill more than jut the President.  Edwin does have a point, however, that having so much governmental power on a single flight seems foolish.  On the other hand, unlike the United States, Poland's President is the head of state but not the head of the government -- they have a prime minister -- so the loss to them is somewhat different than the death of a U.S. president would be to us.

When I was a young child, my parents sometimes traveled on vacation without us kids.  While they were comfortable leaving us with a sitter, there was one rule.  They never, ever traveled on the same plane.  Even as a kid this freaked me out a little, because it represented my parent's contemplation of the possibility their plane would crash.  As an adult, I realize that it also didn't make a lot of logical sense.  If they were concerned about them both being affected by the same tragedy, leaving us with no parents, then they should not have been driving in the same car without us either.

There are certainly protocols that are publicly known for making sure that the entire U.S. government isn't wiped out all at once.  If you watch the State of the Union Address on television, and you know your presidential succession, you may notice that one member of the President's cabinet is always absent.  The entire line of succession never ever is in the same place at the same time, in case something happens to the whole group, to ensure continuity of the presidency.  I don't know what the Polish equivalent is, but I would bet anything there is a reason that the Prime Minister was not on that plane.

It takes something quite counter-intuitive to produce a rule that says two important people can't be on a plane together.  It takes overcoming the basic denial which enables us to not be afraid all the time to plan for the worst.  Most civilians don't like to do that kind of planning -- that's why people who know they are extremely ill still don't make out wills or become organ donors.  We don't like to admit that we might die, even though we know it's true.  That's why, when it comes to security and continuity protocols, the people at risk are not the ones who make the rules.  They have security and military people do it for them.  The Poles may have a strong opinion about whether they did a decent job, given what has happened.  Not being affected myself by the deaths of these government officials or the upheaval they may cause in Poland, I don't think I'm in a place to judge.

Chelsea King will not be coming home from the jog she went on after school last Thursday.  Her body was found today in a shallow grave in Rancho Bernardo Community Park in San Diego where she went for her run.  A registered sex offender is under arrest, charged with her murder and linked to an assault on another jogger in the same park in December.

When things like this happen, you often hear people remark, "I just can't imagine what her parents must be going through."  This is undoubtedly the case.  Unless you've experienced something similar, it is unlikely that anything in your life is even vaguely related to the emotions that this family is experiencing right now. When we try to imagine what it would be like, we put ourselves directly into the worst of it -- knowing that your daughter has been raped and murdered.  But of course the family does not receive the news this way, and that is part of why we really can't imagine what it's like.

When Chelsea was later than usual coming home from her run, I imagine there was some stretch of time when no one noticed.  A minute or two late wouldn't get anyone's attention.  As time went on, and her family noticed she was late, the decision that something might be wrong probably came on gradually.  After all, if three minutes late isn't a big deal, is four?  What about five?  When do you decide it's a big deal?  Not worrying turns to worrying slowly, and there is an in-between time when folks are both worried and telling themselves they shouldn't be.

This same pattern repeats itself over and over.  There's worrying while knowing it's most likely she's fine, followed by knowing that she probably isn't fine (and the in-between time in the middle of those).  The hope that she's just injured somewhere fades into the fear that she's not, which fades into the knowledge that there's been an arrest but she might be alive, which fades into the realization that she probably isn't, which fades into the certainty.

One of the most common things people say after the traumatic death of a loved one is, "this doesn't feel real" or "this can't be true."  Part of this is because the sudden death of someone we care about is not on our mental menu for things that can happen on a normal day, so it seems like it can't possibly happen.  The other part, however, is that, at least in situations like this one, there have been so many transitions in the understanding of what is going on.  It's hardly surprising that, when it's over, it still feels like it's in that in-between place.

Chelsea King is not coming home.  Her parents know that now.  One can hardly blame them, however, if they have fleeting moments when their minds refuse to accept delivery on that particularly gruesome message.

In the early 1980's, Rom Houben, a Belgian 20 year-old, was in a horrific car accident.  He was in a coma, and then diagnosed as being in a persistent vegetative state.  For 23 years, his family refused to accept his diagnosis and insisted he was conscious and aware of his surroundings.  Finally, with advances in brain scan technology, doctors were able to more thoroughly examine his brain and determine it was essentially normal.  Over time, they were able to help him communicate using a single finger and a keypad. 

Houben wasn't in a vegetative state at all, but rather suffering from "locked-in syndrome," a state where he was able to hear and feel and understand, but unable to move or speak.  The medical journal article that detailed his story estimates that up to 43% of people diagnosed as being in a vegetative state are actually conscious.

I'm sure this case will be the subject of much political debate.  The news coverage is rife with mentions of Terri Schiavo, the Florida woman whose husband's battle to remove her feeding tube made its way all the way to the United States Congress.  I acknoweldge that this case raises ethical questions, and I also acknowledge that I am completely unqualified to discuss them.

This story also raises questions for the families of those diagnosed as being in persistent vegetative states.  On the one hand, accepting the reality of their loved one's situation is important, regardless of what people decide to do about it.  Holding out unrealistic hope can trap people in the common trauma reaction of feeling like the situation isn't real.  On the other hand, if this study is accurate, about 4 times out of 10, it truly isn't real.

This story is very encouraging to those left behind by traumatic accident victims in vegetative states.  I truly hope that as many of them can be "unlocked" as this story predicts.  I just worry about the 6 out of 10 situations or more where this research will prevent survivors from accepting reality.