Granted, some people don't function well during a crisis. That was my first thought as I listened to the recent 911 call between Gary Coleman's former wife Shannon Price and an emergency services dispatcher.
When the dispatcher sought information about Coleman's head wound, which was reportedly sustained in a fall in the couple's Santaquin home on May 26, Shannon tells her that she can't assess the wound because looking at the blood could trigger her own seizures. When the dispatcher tells her that direct pressure should be applied to Coleman's wound, Shannon says she can't because she, too, is ill and can't cope with the sight of blood. Eventually she retrieves a towel, which she gives to the injured and bleeding Coleman to tend to his own wound.
At this point I'm exceedingly uncomfortable with what I'm hearing and I start screaming inside my head, "Do something, Shannon! Set aside your own concerns and help him!"
The recording seems to go on an eternity. Finally, help arrives.
A couple days later, Coleman dies after being removed from life support. Shannon made the difficult decision to discontinue his care. When I read this, my heart goes out to her, even as I struggle to understand what transpired on the 911 recording.
Coleman's death was as much a tragedy as his life, given his chronic health problems, strained relations with his parents and troubled marriage.
Tell me again why people want their children to be famous?
Are they just so blinded by the prospect of fame and/or money that they can't see the huge pitfalls?
Rare is the child star who successfully carries his or her career into adulthood.
The few who have made that transition were carefully guided by their parents, attended college or had the good fortune of working with handlers who had enough personal interest in their clients' well-being that they helped them make appropriate career and life choices.
There are countless others who flamed out early, never to regain the sort of acclaim they had during their youths.
Today's young stars have the added burden of growing up in a global media market where every youthful indiscretion, fashion faux pas and weight gain or loss is examined under a microscope.
Gain five pounds on vacation and the tabloids and cable networks start to speculate about eating disorders or a "baby bump."
Wear an outfit that's not quite right and you're fashion road kill.
Because most of these people are extracted from schools and other settings where children interact with one another, they're deprived of the sensibility that everyone goes through periods of awkwardness but most endure it just fine.
This spring, during the 82nd Annual Academy Awards, child stars Jon Cryer, Anthony Michael Hall, Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, Maccaulay Culkin and Matthew Broderick took part in a tribute to filmmaker John Hughes.
Hughes was the master in chronicling the struggles of teens and young adults. Some of his films are indeed legendary.
Seeing them all on stage, it made me ponder what had separated the actors who still have vibrant careers from those who have been in and out of rehabilitation facilities, those who have been in jail or prison, those who are estranged from families or have personal lives that are otherwise in shambles.
Judd Nelson's comments regarding Hughes were quite illuminating, "He had a gift for treating young people not as children but as developing adults."
I don't blame or credit Hughes for how the lives of these actors panned out. But at the time Hughes' legendary films were made, these actors were no more adult than the kids in your neighborhood junior high.
Look at the child stars of Coleman's famous sitcom "Diff'rent Strokes." Co-star Dana Plato committed suicide in 1999, overdosing on prescription medication. Her career nose-dived after she left the show. She later appeared in low-budget films including soft core pornography.
Fellow co-star Todd Bridges has many film and television credits but has battled drug addiction and legal problems. He now works as a comedic commentator for the cable television series "The Smoking Gun."
And we all know about Coleman's fate. His body remains at a local mortuary until someone with appropriate legal documents can assume custody of it.
How sad is that? Even in death, Coleman knows no peace.
Marjorie Cortez, who wishes our fame-starved culture placed a higher premium on lifelong benefits of raising healthy, well-grounded children, is a Deseret News editorial writer. E-mail her at marjorie@desnews.com