Mrs. K is a thirty-one-year-old Russian-speaking mother of two, who was brought in by ambulance after attempting suicide by jumping in front of train. Probable depression x months. Stressor: lost custody battle over older child. Current status: deep coma, ventilator-dependent, and prognosis grim. Next of kin is estranged husband; he demands participation in medical decision making. Legal proxy is patient's boyfriend; forcibly removed from the intensive care unit for agitated behavior and alcohol intoxication.I magine the difficulty for the ICU staff (...) as it tries to patch together the broken body of Mrs. K, described above. If, as appears likely, the physicians’ efforts begin to fail, who will speak for this patient, who can no longer speak for herself, and determine the appropriate goals and limits of intensive medical care? (shrink)

Mrs. K is a thirty-one-year-old Russian-speaking mother of two, who was brought in by ambulance after attempting suicide by jumping in front of train. Probable depression x months. Stressor: lost custody battle over older child. Current status: deep coma, ventilator-dependent, and prognosis grim. Next of kin is estranged husband; he demands participation in medical decision making. Legal proxy is patient's boyfriend; forcibly removed from the intensive care unit for agitated behavior and alcohol intoxication.I magine the difficulty for the ICU staff (...) as it tries to patch together the broken body of Mrs. K, described above. If, as appears likely, the physicians’ efforts begin to fail, who will speak for this patient, who can no longer speak for herself, and determine the appropriate goals and limits of intensive medical care? (shrink)

Typically, the determination of death by neurological criteria follows a very specific protocol. An apnea test is performed with further confirmation as necessary, and then mechanical ventilation is withdrawn with the consent of the family after they have had an opportunity to “say goodbye,” and at such a time to permit organ retrieval (with authorization of the patient or consent of the next of kin). Such a process maximizes transparency and ensures generalizability. In exceptional circumstances, however, it may be necessary (...) to deviate from this protocol in order to spare family members unnecessary suffering and to reduce moral distress felt by clinical staff. It may also be appropriate, we argue, to refrain from even inquiring about organ donation when the next-of-kin is not only certain to refuse, but lacks the decision-making capacity to potentially consent. The case described in this article calls into question generally reliable assumptions about determination of death by neurological criteria, where the best the clinical team could do for the patient and his family was “the least bad option.”. (shrink)

Mr. C is a twenty‐two‐year‐old who was flown to a level‐1 trauma center after diving headfirst into shallow water. Prior to this accident, he was in excellent health. At the scene, he had been conscious but was paralyzed and had no sensation below his neck. The emergency medical services team immobilized Mr. C's neck with a cervical collar and intubated him for airway protection before transport. As Mr. C's medical care proceeds, he expresses a desire for extubation, although it (...) was not clear that he had the capacity to make this (or any other) decision. It also was unclear whether this desire reflected his authentic wishes to be allowed to die or stemmed from feelings of discomfort and agitation. Over a period of several days, Mr. C's sedation was lightened, and the psychiatry service conducted a formal decision‐making capacity assessment. Mr. C continues to express a desire to withdraw life‐sustaining medical treatment. However, the psychiatry service is concerned that Mr. C seems to lack adequate insight into what it would mean to die.What does it mean to respect Mr. C's autonomy? (shrink)

PHOTO ID 121339257© Designer491| Dreamstime.com ABSTRACT When physicians use their clinical knowledge and skills to advance the well-being of their patients, there may be apparent conflict between patient autonomy and physician beneficence. We are skeptical that today’s medical ethics education adequately fosters future physicians’ commitment to beneficence, which is both rationally defensible and fundamentally consistent with patient autonomy. We use an ethical dilemma that was presented to a group of third-year medical students to examine how ethics education might be causing (...) them to give undue deference to autonomy, thereby undermining their commitment to beneficence. INTRODUCTION The right of patients to choose which treatments they prefer is rooted in today’s social mores and taught as a principle of medical ethics as respect for autonomy. Yet, when physicians use their clinical knowledge and skills to advance the well-being of their patients, there may be a conflict between patient autonomy and physician beneficence. We are skeptical that today’s medical ethics education adequately fosters a commitment to beneficence, which is both rationally defensible and fundamentally consistent with patient autonomy. I. An Ethical Dilemma The impetus for this paper arose when students who were completing their third clinical year discussed a real-life ethical dilemma. A middle-aged man developed a pulmonary hemorrhage while on blood thinners for a recently placed coronary stent. The bleeding was felt to be reversible, but the patient needed immediate intubation or he would die. The cardiologist was told that the patient previously expressed to other physicians that he never wanted to be intubated. However, the cardiologist made the decision to intubate the patient anyway, and the patient eventually recovered.[1] Students were asked if they believed that the cardiologist had acted ethically. Their overwhelming response was, “No, the patient should have been allowed to die.” We looked into how students applied ethical reasoning to conclude that this outcome was ethically preferred. To explore how the third-year clinical experience might have formed the students’ judgment, we presented the same case to students who were just beginning their third year. Their responses were essentially uniform in recommending intubation. While there is likely more than one reasonable view in this case, we agree with the physician and the younger medical students that intubation was the ethically appropriate decision and will present an argument for it. But first, we explain the reasoning behind the more advanced medical students’ decision to choose patient autonomy at the expense of beneficence. II. Medical Ethics Education and the Priority of Autonomy Beauchamp and Childress’s Principles of Biomedical Ethics, first published in 1979 and now in its 8th edition, is a significant part of the formal ethics education in medical school.[2] Students learn an ethical decision-making approach based on respect for four ethical principles: autonomy, beneficence, nonmaleficence, and justice. While Beauchamp and Childress officially afford no prima facie superiority to any principle, the importance of respect for patient autonomy has increased through the editions of their book. For example, early editions of their book opposed the legalization of physician-assisted death compared to recent editions that defended it.[3] As another example, Beauchamp and Childress make paternalism harder to justify by adding an autonomy-protecting condition to the list of conditions for acceptable paternalism.[4] Authority, they contend, need not conflict with autonomy—provided the authority is autonomously chosen.[5] “The main requirement,” they write, “is to respect a particular patient’s or subject’s autonomous choices, whatever they may be.[6] In the principlism of Beauchamp and Childress, autonomy now seems to have a kind of default priority.[7] However, the bioethics discourse has strong counternarratives, noting some movement to elevate the role of beneficence and to respect the input of stakeholders, including the family and the healthcare team. Ethics education achieves particular relevance in the third clinical year when students become embedded in the care of patients and learn from what has been called the informal curriculum. They observe how attending physicians approach day-to-day ethical problems at the patient’s bedside. In this context, students observe the importance of informed consent for serious treatments or invasive procedures, a practice that highlights the principle of patient autonomy. In both the formal and informal curriculum, medical students observe how, in the words of Paul Wolpe, “patient autonomy has become the central and most powerful principle in ethical decision-making in American medicine.”[8] In short, students appear to learn a deference for patient autonomy. This curricular shift in favor of autonomy coincides with legal developments that protect patients’ rights and decision-making with respect to their healthcare choices. The priority of autonomy in medicine benefits patients by reflecting their choices and, in some cases, their fundamental liberty. III. The Practice of Medicine and the Commitment to Beneficence There are many critiques of the dominant place that autonomy has in biomedical ethics,[9] especially considering that autonomy seems to be biased toward individualistic, Western, and somewhat American culture-driven values.[10] In addition, many bioethical dilemmas are cast as a conflict between autonomy and beneficence. Our point is that medical students bring to their study of medicine a commitment to beneficence that seems to be suppressed by practical ethics education. We think this commitment is rationally defensible and should be nurtured. It is striking that young medical students have a pre-reflective commitment to beneficence at all. For, as we mentioned, it is not just medicine but Western culture generally that prioritizes autonomy in settling ethical dilemmas. In wanting to act for the good of others (rather than simply agreeing to what others want), physicians are already swimming somewhat against the cultural tide.[11] However, doing so makes sense, given the nature of medicine and the profession of healing. When prospective medical students are asked why they wish to become physicians, the usual answer is some variation on caring for the sick and preventing disease. It is unlikely that a reason to become a physician is to respect a patient’s autonomy. It would be easy to dismiss medical students’ commitment to beneficence as a mere intuition and contrary to a more reasoned and deliberative approach. Beauchamp and Childress seem to minimize the value of physician intuition, stating that justifications for certain procedures are “…supported by good reasons. They need not rest merely in intuition or feeling.”[12] Henry Richardson writes that “situational or perceptive intuition…leaves the reasons for decision unarticulated.”[13] We think this is a crude and rather thin way of understanding intuition. Some bioethicists have defended intuition as essential to the practice of medicine and not something opposed to reason.[14] In the case we describe, we believe the ethical justifications s for the patient’s intubation are fundamentally sound: the patient did not have a “do not intubate” order written in the chart, the emergency intubation had not been foreseen, so the patient did not have the opportunity to consent to or reject intubation; the patient had consented to the treatment for his cardiac disease so his consent for intubation could have been assumed;[15] and the consequences of respecting his autonomy did not justify allowing him to die.[16] While it is possible to have more than one reasonable view on this case, we think the case for beneficence is strong and certainly should not be dismissed out of hand. We do not deny that if a patient makes a clearly documented, well-informed decision to forgo intubation that this decision ought to be respected by the physician (even if the physician disagrees with the patient’s decision). But, in this situation, as in many others in the practice of medicine, the patient’s real wishes and preferences are not well-articulated in advance. There are many cases where a physician acts based on what she believes the patient, or the surrogate, would want, sometimes in situations that do not allow much time for reflection. An example might be resuscitation of a newborn at the borderline of viability. In their ethics education, beneficence would mean acting first to save a life. If the patient or surrogate makes an informed decision to the contrary, a beneficent physician respects that autonomous decision. In the case presented, the patient expressed gratitude to the cardiologist when extubated. But what if he had expressed anger at the physician for violating his autonomy? There are those who could argue that not only was intubation ethically wrong but that the cardiologist put himself in legal jeopardy by his actions (especially if there had been a written refusal applicable to the specific situation). In the example we use, we point out that the cardiologist may not have escaped a lawsuit if the patient had died without intubation. His family, when hearing the circumstances, may have sued for failure to act and dereliction of the cardiologist’s duty to save him. Beyond a potential legal challenge for either action or inaction, there is an overriding ethical question the cardiologist had to address: what course would be most satisfying to his conscience? Would he rather allow a patient to die for fear of recrimination, or act to save his life, regardless of the personal consequences? In the absence of real knowledge about the patient’s considered wishes, it is most reasonable to err on the side of promoting patient well-being. A physician’s commitment to beneficence is not necessarily a way of undermining a patient’s autonomy. In acting for the patient's good, physicians are also acting on what it is reasonable to believe a patient (or most patients, perhaps) would want, which is obviously connected to what a patient does want. Pellegrino and Thomasma argue that beneficence includes respect for a patient’s autonomy since “the best interests of the patient are intimately linked with their preferences.”[17] Instead of conceptualizing ethical dilemmas in medicine as conflicts between autonomy and beneficence, it is possible that medical schools could teach students that truly practicing beneficence is a way of valuing patient autonomy, especially when the patient’s wishes are not specific to the situation and are not clearly expressed. CONCLUSION It is important for students and practicing physicians to understand the principle of respect for patient autonomy in a pluralistic society that demands personal self-determination. However, the role of the physician as a beneficent healer should not be diminished by this respect for autonomy. Respecting a patient’s autonomy is grounded in and manifested by physician beneficence.[18] That is, seeking what is good for the patient can only be good if it respects their personhood and dignity. We propose that a commitment to beneficence, incipient in young medical students, should be developed over time with their other clinical reasoning skills. Such a commitment need not be sacrificed on the altar of patient autonomy. Beneficence needs greater relative moral weight with students as they proceed in their ethics education. - [1] S. Jauhar, “When Doctors Need to Lie,” New York Times, February 22, 2014, https://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/23/opinion/sunday/when-doctors-need-to-lie.html. [2] T. L. Beauchamp and James F. Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, 8th ed. (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2019). [3] Louise A. Mitchell, “Major Changes in Principles of Biomedical Ethics,” The National Catholic Bioethics Quarterly 14, no. 3 (2014): 459–75, https://doi.org/10.5840/ncbq20141438. [4] Tom L. Beauchamp and James F. Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, 8th ed. (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2019), 238. [5] Beauchamp and Childress, 103. [6] Beauchamp and Childress, p. 108. [7] For other accounts that prioritize autonomy, see e.g. Allen E. Buchanan and Dan W. Brock, Deciding for Others: The Ethics of Surrogate Decision Making (Cambridge University Press, 1989), 38–39; R Gillon, “Ethics Needs Principles—Four Can Encompass the Rest—and Respect for Autonomy Should Be ‘First among Equals,’” Journal of Medical Ethics 29, no. 5 (October 2003): 307–12, https://doi.org/10.1136/jme.29.5.307. For examples of critiques of these accounts, see footnote 9. [8] P. R. Wolpe, “The Triumph of Autonomy in American Bioethics: A Sociological View,” in Bioethics and Society: Constructing the Ethical Enterprise, p. 43. [9] V. A. Entwistle et al., “Supporting Patient Autonomy: The Importance of Clinician-Patient Relationships,” Journal of General Internal Medicine 25, no. 7 (July 2010): 741–45; C. Foster, Choosing Life, Choosing Death: The Tyranny of Autonomy in Medical Ethics and Law, 1st ed. (Oxford ; Hart Publishing, 2009); O. O’Neill, Autonomy and Trust in Bioethics, The Gifford Lectures, University of Edinburgh 2001 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2002). [10] P. Marshall and B. Koenig, “Accounting for Culture in a Globalized Bioethics,” The Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics: A Journal of the American Society of Law, Medicine & Ethics 32, no. 2 (2004): 252–66; R. Fan, “Self-Determination vs. Family-Determination: Two Incommensurable Principles of Autonomy,” Bioethics 11, no. 3–4 (1997): 309–22. [11] Arguments stressing the importance of beneficence, as ours does here, certainly approach paternalistic arguments. We set aside the complex issue of paternalism for purposes of this paper and simply note that the principle of beneficence as such does not say anything specifically about acting against the patient’s will. In the case study that focuses this paper, we do not believe the patient’s will or wishes were clearly indicated. [12] Beauchamp and Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, p. 20, see note 2 above. [13] H. S. Richardson, “Specifying, Balancing, and Interpreting Bioethical Principles,” The Journal of Medicine and Philosophy: A Forum for Bioethics and Philosophy of Medicine 25, no. 3 (January 1, 2000): 285–307, p. 287. [14] H. D. Braude, Intuition in Medicine a Philosophical Defense of Clinical Reasoning (Chicago ; University of Chicago Press, 2012). [15] R. Kukla, “Conscientious Autonomy: Displacing Decisions in Health Care,” The Hastings Center Report 35, no. 2 (2005): 34–44. [16] M. Schermer, The Different Faces of Autonomy: Patient Autonomy in Ethical Theory and Hospital Practice, vol. 13, Library of Ethics and Applied Philosophy (Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands, 2002). [17] E. D. Pellegrino and D. C. Thomasma, For the Patient’s Good - the Restoration of Beneficence in Health Care (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1988), p. 29. [18] Pellegrino and Thomasma, For the Patient’s Good. 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There is a conflict between the wishes of terminally ill patients to allow withdrawal of treatment and become donors after cardiac death (DCD) and the limit on interventions required by the dead-donor rule (DDR). Once a breathing tube is removed, hours can pass before the patient expires. This interim time complies with the DDR, but often makes donation impossible. The consequences are the nullification of donors’ wishes and the waste of organs for transplantation. Since the DDR was developed, attitudes on (...) end-of-life interventions have evolved, organ donation has been embraced, and the field of organ transplantation has been firmly established. A new ethical approach is needed that, based on patients’ autonomy, considers organ donation a goal of care and views the donated organs as having a profound value for the donor and recipient. It is time to prioritize patients’ autonomous desire to donate life-giving organs to others and thus promote continuity of care for the donated organs over the modality of death pronouncement. To support patients’ desire to be organ donors, the conversation should be open to allow medical intervention in the peri-extubation period. (shrink)

The rule of double effect is regularly invoked in ethical discussions about palliative sedation, terminal extubation and other clinical acts that may be viewed as hastening death for imminently dying patients. Unfortunately, the literature tends to employ this useful principle in a fashion suggesting that it offers the final word on the moral acceptability of such medical procedures. In fact, the rule cannot be applied appropriately without invoking moral theories that are not explicit in the rule itself. Four tenets (...) of the rule each require their own ethical justification. A variety of moral theories are relevant to making judgements in a pluralistic society. Much of the rich moral conversation germane to the rule has been reflected in arguments about physician-asssisted suicide and voluntary active euthanasia, but the rule itself has limited relevance to these debates, and requires its own moral justifications when applied to other practices that might hasten death. (shrink)

We describe two unusual cases of cardiopulmonary death in mechanically ventilated patients in the neurological intensive care unit. After cardiac arrest, both patients were pulseless for a protracted period. Upon extubation, both developed agonal movements (gasping respiration) resembling life. We discuss these cases and the literature on the ethical and medical controversies associated with determining time of cardiopulmonary death. We conclude that there is rarely a single moment when all of a patient’s physiological functions stop working at once. This (...) can pose a challenge for determining the exact moment of death. (shrink)

This article addresses a common yet rarely discussed aspect of hospital care—a pro-active approach to ethical dilemmas. Potential ethical conflicts often present warning signs to clinicians, analogous to the warning lights on a car’s dashboard. Using a recent case study, a commonly encountered clinical decision—a conflict about whether to terminally extubate a critically ill patient versus whether to offer a tracheostomy— we describe a pro-active approach to ethical conflicts and outline three learning objectives: (1) the need for a robust understanding (...) of the term “futility,” (2) the need for an appreciation of the various and often conflicting interpretations of “improved/improving,” and (3) the need to understand the challenges of surrogate decision making. (shrink)

The management of an infant after a decision to withdraw active treatment creates dilemmas. Both lingering death and active killing are undesirable, but palliative interventions can hasten death. We investigated what staff on our neonatal unit thought were the limits of acceptable practice and why. We administered a structured interview to elucidate their views, and asked them to justify their answers. The interviews were analysed quantitatively and qualitatively. A total of 25 participants (15 nurses and 10 doctors) were recruited. 80% (...) emphasized the importance of pain relief following withdrawal, 60% mentioned meeting parental needs at that time. 76% agreed that death can be a desired consequence of withdrawal, yet 52% felt that death should never be hastened. 96% felt that morphine is acceptable after withdrawal, and 72% would give a higher than normal dose if necessary. 56% would stop paralysis at extubation but not reverse it, while 24% would continue paralysis. 16% would consider a drug that ended life instantly in some cases. A wide variety of views emerged, but there were two main positions, a cautious majority, and a more proactive minority. Apparent contradictions within the majority position could be explained using the doctrine of double effect and the acts and omissions distinction. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Prayer for the Dead, A Prayer for the LivingVincent J. MinichielloAs a first year resident physician, I am just beginning to understand the responsibilities and the practice of medicine. I have difficulty telling people “I’m a doctor,” because I’m not sure I believe it myself. And yet within the past eight months, I have already been challenged to mediate situations that bring me to not only fully accept (...) my vocation as a physician, but also to grow on a mental level, a human level, and a spiritual level. In the following reflection, I recount one of those moments that occurred during a rotation in the medical intensive care unit.At 6 p.m. I was coming on for my night shift knowing that the family of one of the patients I would be caring for had decided earlier in the day to withdraw medical care for their dying sister. The woman had been admitted to the ICU the previous night unconscious and in multi organ system failure—heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, all failed—as a result of chronic alcoholism and most recently drinking daily for three weeks with barely any other dietary intake. She was being kept alive with mechanical ventilation and three IV drips of medications to maintain her blood pressure. She was 45 years old. After a few more hours of saying goodbye, her sister came up to me and said that the family was ready to proceed. To withdraw care. I thought a lot about this phrase we use [End Page 204] “withdrawing care” that night. This encounter was the first time I had ever been the physician entering these orders into the computer. To me, what I was doing that night was in fact the complete opposite of “withdrawing” care. I felt, instead, that I was giving even more care. How?First, by caring more for the patient. By making sure she was comfortably extubated, by helping to reposition her in the hospital bed in a way that appeared more natural, and by praying. I prayed that when we stopped the pressors and the ventilator, she would pass quietly and find peace in Heaven, when she perhaps found very little on Earth.Second, by caring more for her family. It was my responsibility to guide them through this dying process, a process that I had only encountered two or three times previously in my life. I felt unsure, frightened, and nervous, not wanting to make a mistake or be inadvertently insensitive. Once again, prayer and what I perceive to be God’s grace filled me with the love I needed to outline the process, to encourage family members to hold her hand and to speak with her while she died.Once the medications were stopped and she was breathing unassisted, her lungs gasped once … twice. Was the soul being released from the body or was the body clinging onto the soul? And then, within two minutes, silence. I left some space to pause and then when the time felt right, stepped forward for the death pronouncement. “The heart is not beating, the lungs have stopped breathing” was all I could manage to say. Why did I remove the “she” and “her”? Why could I not say, “She is dead”? At the time I could not have answered those questions. Thinking back, I believe it was easier for me to vocalize that her body had simply stopped functioning, while I quietly held on to the belief that her soul continued to exist. Should I have held back as I did? Would it have been better for the family to hear that their sister was unquestionably dead? Perhaps. Nevertheless, the family understood, they cried, they held their sister’s hand. And then let go.At this point I took a breath, left the room, and without pause stepped straight into …A 46 year old woman with a history of drug and alcohol abuse was being wheeled into the ICU on a hospital bed right in front of me as the door behind me closed. Her nose and mouth were caked with white powder and she was in the embrace of some hallucination, clawing... (shrink)

The patient in this case does not have enough small bowel to be compatible with life. Given this prognosis the decisions to establish a DNR status and discontinue TPN are both appropriate. However, by not attempting an earlier extubation or withdrawing the hydration as well as the TPN, the attending physician set the stage for the ensuing disaster.

BACKGROUND: Although placing patients with acute respiratory failure in a prone (face down) position improves their oxygenation 60 to 70 percent of the time, the effect on survival is not known. METHODS: In a multicenter, randomized trial, we compared conventional treatment (in the supine position) of patients with acute lung injury or the acute respiratory distress syndrome with a predefined strategy of placing patients in a prone position for six or more hours daily for 10 days. We enrolled 304 patients, (...) 152 in each group. RESULTS: The mortality rate was 23.0 percent during the 10-day study period, 49.3 percent at the time of discharge from the intensive care unit, and 60.5 percent at 6 months. The relative risk of death in the prone group as compared with the supine group was 0.84 at the end of the study period (95 percent confidence interval, 0.56 to 1.27), 1.05 at the time of discharge from the intensive care unit (95 percent confidence interval, 0.84 to 1.32), and 1.06 at six months (95 percent confidence interval, 0.88 to 1.28). During the study period the mean (+/-SD) increase in the ratio of the partial pressure of arterial oxygen to the fraction of inspired oxygen, measured each morning while patients were supine, was greater in the prone than the supine group (63.0+/-66.8 vs. 44.6+/-68.2, P=0.02). The incidence of complications related to positioning (such as pressure sores and accidental extubation) was similar in the two groups. CONCLUSIONS: Although placing patients with acute respiratory failure in a prone position improves their oxygenation, it does not improve survival. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Limits of Our ObligationsRyan C. MavesDisclaimers. No funding was utilized for this manuscript. Dr. Maves is a retired U.S. Navy officer, and the opinions contained herein are his own. The opinions in this manuscript do not reflect the official opinion of the Department of the Navy, Department of Defense, nor of the U.S. Government.In 2012, I was a commander in the United States Navy, deployed to the NATO (...) Role 3 Multinational Medical Unit in Kandahar Airfield (KAF), Afghanistan. The KAF Role 3 began as a tent hospital under Canadian command, built along the flight line at Ahmad Shah Baba International Airport as [End Page 176] part of an expanding NATO base. By the time of my arrival, it was a small but capable brick-and-mortar building under U.S. Navy command, with four operating rooms, two CT scanners, and a busy intensive care unit (ICU).Not long before my deployment, the KAF Role 3 was described as one of the busiest trauma hospitals in the world. Casualties arrived every day, usually by helicopter. Blast injuries from improvised explosive devices (IEDs) were common, ranging in severity from concussions in passengers in armored vehicles, to multiple amputations from blast injuries with concomitant thoracic, abdominal, and pelvic trauma. KAF had a daytime population of over 30,000 in 2012, and our hospital was effectively the referral center for the region, so patients with non-surgical diagnoses were similarly common: myocardial infarctions, seizures, pulmonary emboli, and endemic infections, to name a few.As an infectious disease (I.D.) specialist, I functioned mainly as a hospitalist, managing patients postoperatively, but I also provided any consultative support when needed. During mass casualty events, the intensivists and I would act as backups in the trauma bay, freeing up the surgeons for the most acutely injured patients. It turned out that an I.D. doctor’s skillset lent itself well to acute trauma evaluations; we are well known for having an eye for fine details, combined with low-grade paranoia. These traits served me well during what I came to describe as “my involuntary trauma fellowship.”Our patients could be divided into five key groups: Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF, including the army and national police), non-Afghan coalition military (mostly U.S. and other NATO members), Afghan civilians, NATO civilian contract staff, and the Taliban. Our approach to each of these groups was different. For all patient groups, we would provide the same emergency care, including acute resuscitation and immediate life-saving surgery. It was after this emergency care period that our management plans diverged.For coalition forces, our next priority after acute resuscitation and stabilization was to assess whether a patient could remain in theater. Stable patients with relatively minor injuries could often undergo rehabilitation at KAF; many personnel could subsequently return to combat duty with their units. More seriously-injured patients would be transported out of Afghanistan within 24-48 hours (if not faster). Usually, this would involve stops at Bagram Airfield near Kabul and then Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany before reaching a military hospital in their home countries. There were few limits on whom could be transported. Dedicated critical care air transport teams (CCATT) included intensivists, respiratory therapists, and critical care nurses, who could manage the most unstable patients on board what was effectively a flying ICU. The “lung team” in Landstuhl could fly to KAF to start patients with severe respiratory failure on extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO) and then fly them out on maximal support.NATO civilian contractors would receive comparable care, although the exact details of how they would be transported out of theater would depend on their home countries and the nature of their contract. We cared for one civilian contractor with newly-diagnosed HIV infection whom we were able to stabilize on the ventilator, get him extubated, start on initial antiretroviral therapy, and transport him home with a referral to his local HIV care program.Afghan soldiers were part of the coalition, but there was no distant home country where we could transport them. They were home. After their resuscitations and surgeries, we would arrange transfer to the Kandahar Regional... (shrink)

This July 2020 issue of JME introduces a new section, “COVID-19 Current Controversies,” which will be a recurring section in each issue for the foreseeable future. This issue reflects on some of the most pressing ethical issues that have arisen roughly 6 months into the pandemic. Kathleen Liddell and colleagues examine important legal considerations at play in ventilator allocation decisions raised by the pandemic.1 They point out that ethics-based triage protocols that argue from the principle of “saving the most lives” (...) by withholding or withdrawing ventilators from certain patients could violate the law (U.K. and elsewhere). Patients’ legal rights are not suspended during this crisis, they remind us. The mere action of ventilator removal (extubation and proning) may constitute battery without consent, for example. Moreover, there may be problems with “evidentiary weakness” in some of the prognostic models used to inform such decisions. And, decisions that are inconsistent, subjective, and/or discriminatory may be deemed illegal. Those developing policies need to consider and consult various areas of law including criminal law (eg, murder, battery, negligence, manslaughter), human rights law, civil law (eg, battery, negligence, duty of care, consent), public and administrative law (eg, discrimination, case law), law on decision-making for incapacitated adults, professional regulations, and derogations from current law (eg, immunities and indemnities). Liddell et al offer 10 concrete, legally informed recommendations for those developing triage-policies to consider. Michael Parker and colleagues take on the issue of contact tracing using mobile apps and point out that such apps can enable people to emerge more safely from lockdowns, which provides a strong autonomy-based argument in favour …. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Not the End We Planned ForAnonymous FourIn 1997, my four–year–old daughter was diagnosed with a high–risk medulablastoma. She underwent the current treatment program at that time. She suffered multiple complications from the treatment and developed seizures, which caused her to lose her sight and 80% of her hearing. These all contributed to her manifesting many behavioral issues, making her a danger to herself and others. Also during this time, (...) she developed large amounts of brain atrophy from the maximum radiation dose she had been given. In August of 2010, Emily was still deteriorating, her seizures were uncontrollable, and her quality of life was extremely poor. A meeting to discuss how to care for my child if an acute crisis presented was held. The meeting included her parents, oncologist, endocrinologist, pediatric neurologist, social worker and the head of medical ethics. We discussed what course of action would be best for her nothing could be done to reverse her condition or prevent further deterioration. A POLST is a physician order for life sustaining treatment and is appropriate if the doctor feel that the patient has a good chance of death in the next year. The purpose of this document is to have a plan in place in case the patient has a life threatening crises. We chose to put a POLST in place with specific instructions not to intubate. This was a hard decision to make for a parent, but we all felt it was the best choice for her.A few months after the POLST was entered, in November, 2010, I came home from the store and my daughter’s caregivers told me she had complained of a headache different from her usual headaches. They gave her Tylenol with codeine and she went to bed about 4 p.m. When I checked her later she seemed fi ne, merely sleeping her headache off. We [End Page 30] decided to let her sleep some more. Around 8 p.m the caregivers came and got me because they could not wake her up to go to the bathroom, which was her normal routine. I immediately went to try and wake her up but could not. I ran my thumb up the bottom of her foot and there was no reflex response. I yelled for her father that we needed to immediately go to the hospital.We took her to the ER at the local hospital that treated her close to the house. We told them we did know what was happening with her but that there was a POLST in place in her chart. They started lines, a nasogastric tube, and sent her for a CT, which showed massive amounts of blood in her brain. I repeated again to the ER staff and physician that there was a POLST in place but no one acknowledged my statement. I asked for a different physician, one that would respect the POLST, and was told there was no one else nor was there a neurosurgeon available. The attending physician insisted she be intubated in order to be transferred to a partner hospital (more than 20 minutes away) where there was a neurosurgeon on duty. I asked him to please call her oncologist at which point he yelled at me that, “he was not calling anyone else and that she needed to be intubated and transferred to the other hospital.” By this time, four hours had passed and I knew she had not gotten any medication for pain, so I told the physician to go ahead and transfer her since I knew the hospital we were at would not admit her for palliative care. She was then intubated, in violation of the POLST, and transferred to the other hospital where the neurosurgeon there told us what we already feared: That she had experienced a massive bleed in her brain. We requested she be extubated and be given palliative care to make her comfortable until she passed away.It is tragic that our daughter’s last hours involved aggressive medical treatment. As parents we hoped to avoid any additional suffering for our child, we did everything we knew to do to insure aggressive... (shrink)

Organ transplantation is a lifesaving procedure for end-organ damage and remains up to today as the most cost-effective alternative to treat these conditions. However, the main limitation to performing organ transplants is the availability of donor organs suitable for transplantation. To increase the donor pool, expanding organ donation from the conventional neurologic determination of death (NDD) to include circulatory determination of death (DCD) has been a well-established method of increasing donors in other countries. In this article, we discuss the clinical (...) and ethical considerations for introducing DCD in Chile. The concepts we have used could very well be translatable to other similar countries which have not implemented this donation system yet. The most relevant issue to date is that DCD needs to alter the care of dying patients to obtain quality donor organs. In some countries, including Chile, there are some cultural barriers regarding withdrawal-of-care. These barriers include confusing withdrawal of care with acceleration of death, which leads to many practitioners refusing to remove artificial life support, and in turn only minimize ventilatory support or switch to a T-tube (without extubation). This cultural barrier could be overcome with careful consideration of the opinions of healthcare workers, family members, community and policy-based stakeholders. We also identified ethical issues related to informed consent of both donor and recipients, among other relevant ethical considerations. In conclusion, DCD donation in Chile can increase organ donation numbers in one of Latin America's countries with the lowest effective donor rate. However, this opportunity must be taken with caution to avoid the opposite effect if this policy is not well implemented, respecting the sound ethical principles mentioned in this paper. (shrink)

Organ transplantation is a lifesaving procedure for end-organ damage and remains up to today as the most cost-effective alternative to treat these conditions. However, the main limitation to performing organ transplants is the availability of donor organs suitable for transplantation. To increase the donor pool, expanding organ donation from the conventional neurologic determination of death (NDD) to include circulatory determination of death (DCD) has been a well-established method of increasing donors in other countries. In this article, we discuss the clinical (...) and ethical considerations for introducing DCD in Chile. The concepts we have used could very well be translatable to other similar countries which have not implemented this donation system yet. The most relevant issue to date is that DCD needs to alter the care of dying patients to obtain quality donor organs. In some countries, including Chile, there are some cultural barriers regarding withdrawal-of-care. These barriers include confusing withdrawal of care with acceleration of death, which leads to many practitioners refusing to remove artificial life support, and in turn only minimize ventilatory support or switch to a T-tube (without extubation). This cultural barrier could be overcome with careful consideration of the opinions of healthcare workers, family members, community and policy-based stakeholders. We also identified ethical issues related to informed consent of both donor and recipients, among other relevant ethical considerations. In conclusion, DCD donation in Chile can increase organ donation numbers in one of Latin America's countries with the lowest effective donor rate. However, this opportunity must be taken with caution to avoid the opposite effect if this policy is not well implemented, respecting the sound ethical principles mentioned in this paper. (shrink)

Organ transplantation is a lifesaving procedure for end-organ damage and remains up to today as the most cost-effective alternative to treat these conditions. However, the main limitation to performing organ transplants is the availability of donor organs suitable for transplantation. To increase the donor pool, expanding organ donation from the conventional neurologic determination of death (NDD) to include circulatory determination of death (DCD) has been a well-established method of increasing donors in other countries. In this article, we discuss the clinical (...) and ethical considerations for introducing DCD in Chile. The concepts we have used could very well be translatable to other similar countries which have not implemented this donation system yet. The most relevant issue to date is that DCD needs to alter the care of dying patients to obtain quality donor organs. In some countries, including Chile, there are some cultural barriers regarding withdrawal-of-care. These barriers include confusing withdrawal of care with acceleration of death, which leads to many practitioners refusing to remove artificial life support, and in turn only minimize ventilatory support or switch to a T-tube (without extubation). This cultural barrier could be overcome with careful consideration of the opinions of healthcare workers, family members, community and policy-based stakeholders. We also identified ethical issues related to informed consent of both donor and recipients, among other relevant ethical considerations. In conclusion, DCD donation in Chile can increase organ donation numbers in one of Latin America's countries with the lowest effective donor rate. However, this opportunity must be taken with caution to avoid the opposite effect if this policy is not well implemented, respecting the sound ethical principles mentioned in this paper. (shrink)

Organ transplantation is a lifesaving procedure for end-organ damage and remains up to today as the most cost-effective alternative to treat these conditions. However, the main limitation to performing organ transplants is the availability of donor organs suitable for transplantation. To increase the donor pool, expanding organ donation from the conventional neurologic determination of death (NDD) to include circulatory determination of death (DCD) has been a well-established method of increasing donors in other countries. In this article, we discuss the clinical (...) and ethical considerations for introducing DCD in Chile. The concepts we have used could very well be translatable to other similar countries which have not implemented this donation system yet. The most relevant issue to date is that DCD needs to alter the care of dying patients to obtain quality donor organs. In some countries, including Chile, there are some cultural barriers regarding withdrawal-of-care. These barriers include confusing withdrawal of care with acceleration of death, which leads to many practitioners refusing to remove artificial life support, and in turn only minimize ventilatory support or switch to a T-tube (without extubation). This cultural barrier could be overcome with careful consideration of the opinions of healthcare workers, family members, community and policy-based stakeholders. We also identified ethical issues related to informed consent of both donor and recipients, among other relevant ethical considerations. In conclusion, DCD donation in Chile can increase organ donation numbers in one of Latin America's countries with the lowest effective donor rate. However, this opportunity must be taken with caution to avoid the opposite effect if this policy is not well implemented, respecting the sound ethical principles mentioned in this paper. (shrink)