At Schiavo's Hospice, a Return to Routine
Scars of 'The Siege' Linger for Staff At Florida Facility
By Ceci Connolly
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, June 18, 2005; Page A01
PINELLAS PARK, Fla. -- In the pre-dawn hours, when sleep is futile and death has not yet arrived, Charles Young and Tom Saviano find common ground in a kitchen permeated by the smell of fresh coffee and stale popcorn. Each is waiting to bury a child.
In rooms less than 25 feet apart, Young's 27-year-old son and Saviano's 48-year-old daughter are near the end. Like Terri Schiavo, the woman who died here about two months ago, they will live out their final hours in Hospice House Woodside. And like Schiavo's parents, the two men are struggling to grasp the inconceivable.
"I can't believe this is happening to me," says Saviano, tears welling up, learning firsthand what hospice is when it isn't on the television, when it isn't in the courts. When hospice is your own private agony. "My wife and I are both wondering what we did wrong."
He is wearing the same navy slacks and golf shirt he arrived in 19 hours ago, back when he was speaking optimistically of bringing his eldest daughter, Debra, home, back when he still thought she had a chance at beating the cancer now overtaking her. After a couple of fitful hours on a pullout couch, Saviano is up again, prowling the near-deserted halls. It's 4:20 a.m., and except for the constant whoosh of oxygen machines and the occasional hacking cough, the single-story red-brick building is quiet.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/06/17/AR2005061701441.html