Soon, we will read or hear that Terri Schiavo is dead.

When the news does come, I think I will shed a few tears. I’ll feel a sense of loss, even though I never met Mrs. Schiavo, and the sad news will not be sudden or surprising. I don’t think I will be alone in shedding tears. We humans—most of us, anyway—are just wired that way. We can’t be aware of the suffering of another person without suffering a little bit, ourselves.

I think that’s why I’ve been half-blind with rage this week, when politicians, like vampires, thought there might be some profit to be gained from this family’s misery—“a great political issue,” in the words of a memo for Republican senators.

President Bush, who presided over the executions of 152 prisoners as governor of Texas, suddenly declared that “it is always wise to err on the side of life.”

House Majority Leader Tom DeLay publicly vilified Schiavo’s husband, told the Family Research Council that the real issue was “more than just Terri Schiavo,” and complained about “attacks against the conservative moment, against me and against many others.”

Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, a cardiologist before he became a politician with presidential ambitions, looked at a videotape of Mrs. Schiavo recorded several years ago and declared that the neurologists who were actually treating her had mis-diagnosed the case. Either Frist is one hell of a doctor, or he’s a very poor excuse for a man.

There will be many tears when Terri Schiavo dies. The vampires will move on to their next target. Sadly, tears alone won’t be enough to wash away this stain.