Gone gone gone gone gone.
Lights on, nobody home. No house for anybody to return to. There is no substantial cerebrum left. No place for the person who was Terri Schaivo to inhabit. All that's left is the empty shell of a body. A walking corpse. A woman-shaped lump of organic matter with a cerebellum that keeps the matter from dying and decomposing, as long as you feed it. But there's no person there anymore.
Your dog is more alive than Terri Schaivo.
A gerbil stuffed up Richard Gere's ass is more alive than Terri Schaivo. (At least until it suffocates.)
She's gone. Let her go. And a pox upon the politicians and the pro-lifers who have abused this woman for their gain.