Wednesday, September 30, 2020
Somewhere Else
Sunday, September 27, 2020
Category 55 Emergency Doomsday Crisis
Tuesday, September 22, 2020
What's My Motivation?

Tuesday, September 15, 2020
The Eternal Shriek
Friday, September 11, 2020
What We Owe to Each Other
Ethics, bioethics, and medical ethics in particular, have never been about what humans can take from each other or the power that we hold over each others' lives. The answers to ethical questions fall more under the consideration of what is humane, and what we owe to each other.

The content in chapter 3 of our textbook focuses on comas, and the ethical discussions that surround a patient in a coma. This topic, like so many others, is incredibly complicated. After a person suffers some trauma and they become comatose, at what point are they considered deceased? At what point do you pull the ventilator and/or feeding tube(s)? Or will they wake up and resume a semi-normal life 5, 10, 15 years from now? Do we owe a person a compassionate death by letting them go, or is providing food and water to patients "the ordinary care that all human beings owe each other" (Pence 82)? Is a life worth living/prolonging if the remainder of their time will consist of physical and emotional pain for them and their family, a series of tubes, and massive medical bills? Is letting a person's body die considered merciful or harmful? What is it that we actually owe to each other, and who gets to make that decision?
While I have drawn my own conclusions, it would be sufficient to say that there will always be more questions and what-ifs when it comes to human life.
Whether or not it is feasible for a comatose person to return to a functional life often depends on the events that led up to them becoming comatose. If they experienced anoxia (lack of oxygen in the brain) for a prolonged period of time, or they have been declared "brain dead", then their state of unconsciousness is much more likely to be irreversible. Even when this is the case, there is still a great deal of variability between individual cases and a perfect standard may never exist. According to the authors of the textbook, the fact that anyone comes out of a long-term coma is crucial to any discussion about the topic, because it changes the course of a diagnosis from "certainty to probability" (Pence 75). This changes the emotional state of things, because instead of getting closure knowing that a patient has no chance of recovery, in most cases there is a very small chance that some degree of recovery is possible.
Without an "advance directive" or a living will that states what a person wants if/when they are in a critical physical condition, the decisions and pressure to answer all of these unknown questions often fall to family and physicians. There are issues with advance directives, as well. Many people are unable to accurately predict their own future preferences, as the SUPPORT study showed, and there is evidence that individuals designated as the decision-maker in critical situations often do not accurately predict the wishes of previously competent (but rendered incompetent by an accident/trauma/etc.) patients (Pence 83).
So...what? It's complicated, I suppose. I don't have all the answers. If it were me, would I really want to be let go? I think so. I don't want to be a burden to my family, friends, or future spouse. But if I were in that situation, is that really what I would want? I don't know that there really is a way to know. If there was no chance of my brain returning to its normal functioning state, I would not want to be kept here. I don't want to suffer endlessly, or cause any of my loved ones to suffer either. I guess that's what it comes down to then, is that ultimately we owe each other a chance at life, but if that isn't possible, then we owe each other a chance at less suffering.
Textbook reference:
Pence, Gregory. Medical Ethics: Accounts of Ground-Breaking Cases. 9th ed., McGraw Hill, 2021.
Sunday, September 6, 2020
Chidi's Choice
For week 2 of bioethics, we're looking into requests to die. The chapter we were asked to read in the textbook was long, but offered interesting background on some of the arguments surrounding past cases and legislation in countries (and US states) where physician-assisted death is legal. This is a difficult issue, and isn't one that is often discussed. Not that it needs to be part of everyday conversation either, but maybe it would be less taboo and easier to talk about if it were brought up more often than just in a collegiate bioethics course.
Before diving into my thoughts about the ethics of physician-assisted death, I want to address something that I see as a major error on the part of the publishers of the textbook. There was a section in this chapter that spoke explicitly about various methods of suicide and what can happen as a result of an unsuccessful suicide attempt and/or the state of the survivor after a suicide attempt. This chapter, or that section at the very least, needed to have some sort of warning. Any mention of suicide can be incredibly triggering for anyone who has had suicidal thoughts/ideation or who has survived an attempt. I knew that the chapter was going to discuss medical cases and the ethics behind physician-assisted death, but there was no warning as to the depth of the discussion about personal suicide attempts and methods. I have received professional training in suicide prevention and it was still difficult for me to read.
Moving past that blatant error...
When it comes to heavy and potentially convoluted ethical questions, there is a lot to consider.

I'm going to highlight here some of the information presented that I agree with. My initial stance on this issue hasn't really been shifted after reading the chapter, but rather I saw it strengthened by some of the arguments presented in it.
One overarching theme of the chapter is that of consent and autonomy. Jean Davies is quoted as saying, "[just as] rape and making love are different, so are killing and assisted suicide" (Pence 49). If you actively take away the life of someone who did not ask for it, one could argue that you have taken away that person's right to choose and right to life. But where this issue is different, as the above quote suggests, is in the consent given. To that, we can add that it should be informed consent. Margaret Battin claims that physicians don't discuss end of treatment/end of life options with dying patients (Pence 44), which also takes away their ability to actively choose what they want their care to look like. And at the end of the day, it is the patient alone who fully understands the pain (physical, psychological, etc.) that they are experiencing. The biggest issue under the umbrella of making autonomous decisions then, is whether the quality of life is acceptable to the person who is living it, and the fact that that decision can only be made by the person who is experiencing it (Pence 43).
This is not something that should be available to everyone in every case, but that could be utilized to end or prevent suffering in terminal patients. If it is extended as an option to every patient deemed legally competent, it quickly becomes an extreme case of the slippery slope argument. What is the value of one life? And what life, or lives are worthy to be lived? If a physician can justify the killing of one patient (or letting them die), then where is the line drawn between them and the next patient? What is the reasoning used here? In empirical slopes, the claim is made that when a moral change occurs, the ability to reason and maintain once strongly-held standards will be lost. A conceptual slope is based on the idea that once a small change is made in a moral rule, other changes will soon follow because, "reason demands consistency in treating similar cases similarly" (Pence 51). Either (or both!) of these slopes could come into play when considering the issues surrounding physician-assisted death, which is why arguments concerning human life must be taken seriously.
The title of this post is "Chidi's Choice" so that it fits within the theme of using episode names from "The Good Place" as titles, but ultimately, every person should have the ability to make a series of choices and have control over their care. Physician-assisted death is not something to be treated lightly or a procedure, or power, that should be abused or run unchecked. Rather, it should be considered as an option for terminally ill patients who desire to have more control over their treatment and choices for the end of their life.
Textbook reference:
Pence, Gregory. Medical Ethics: Accounts of Ground-Breaking Cases. 9th ed., McGraw Hill, 2021.
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
Everything is Fine
I honestly have no idea how to write a blog post. Or keep up on a blog. So this will be an experiment unto itself. I don't mind writing though, I've kept a journal on and off for the last 10 years or so. Who knows? Maybe this will be good for me. I don't pretend to be the expert on anything, and this blog will likely be me attempting to make my ramblings appear logical and well-thought through, but if nothing else, it will be a compilation of my thoughts on bioethics. At times (like today's post) it will probably become deeply personal, but other posts will likely be more objective and focused on facts. All that being said, here goes nothing.
The name of this blog, "Bioethics: This is the Bad Place", comes directly from the fact that I spent the last two weeks of summer binge-watching NBC's "The Good Place". One of the main characters in that show is a moral philosophy professor, and much of the show's premise is centered around the characters striving to become better people based on the principles of ethics. For anyone who hasn't seen the show, it takes place in a version of the afterlife, where there is a Good Place and a Bad Place. One is Utopia, and the other is a place of endless torture. Bioethics is probably a combination of the two, but because it is my tired brain speaking tonight, we are in the Bad Place. So, welcome! Everything is fine.

When it comes to ethical questions or dilemmas, I often feel a little overwhelmed. Ethics...is it really worth all of the mental strain? As a scientist, I want a concrete and complete answer! There should be a right answer to every question, right? Apparently not. Sometimes there is no right answer, and sometimes there are multiple right answers. That's what makes ethics so difficult, is the fact that you can debate issues from both sides and make logic-based arguments to build any case.
But! There are issues with logic, too. These are often referred to as logical fallacies, or problems that come up in arguments and logic. There are endless everyday examples of logical fallacies; they're everywhere you look. A common logical error is appealing to feelings and upbringing. While feelings and background are important and can contribute to personal identity, emotions and personal feelings do not justify an ethical position.
For example, I was raised in a deeply religious family and the idea that people who were not religious were somehow "less than" was ingrained in my mind. In addition to this, I was taught that heterosexuality was "right" or "correct", and being gay was wrong. So, when I first had suspicions that I was gay, I did everything I could to suppress them. Because that wasn't the way I was raised, those thoughts/feelings/etc. were wrong, and therefore they couldn't exist or be right in any way. Over the last year or so, I've been struggling with religion as well. Double whammy. The cognitive dissonance at times for just one of these was difficult, but the combination of the two? Overwhelming. And in my mind, the logical pathway was to invalidate my own thoughts and feelings and focus on the feelings of my parents and my upbringing. Obviously this wasn't going to be comfortable or last long-term, especially for someone with a scientific mindset. If there was a problem, I am going to fix it! Or at least find a way for myself to exist with less dissonance. So, my life looks much different now than I ever expected it to. I have a girlfriend, I haven't been to church in months, and I'm happier than I've ever been. I've found a way through my personal upbringing, and while it has a lot to do with my personal feelings, my path to get to this point was based on actual facts, science, and the stories/experiences of others telling me that in no way do feelings equate logic. It could be argued here that I am replacing my parents' feelings and thoughts with my own, and while that is somewhat the case now that I have my feet under me, it definitely has not always been that way. It took extensive research and looking for solid logic for me to be able to see through the cloud that was created by my upbringing and feelings towards both anyone who wasn't actively religious and anything involving the LGBTQ+ community. That's the power of real logic (and also where this particular logical fallacy causes problems), that truth (or relative truth) can be found when there are reasons to justify a position instead of just feelings.
When it comes to bioethics, medical ethics, etc., personal beliefs and upbringing are often attached to the issues. IVF, abortion, adoption, physician-assisted death, and so many other issues are often argued over using nothing but personal beliefs, even though there are scientific resources available. When it comes to ethics and arguments, leave feelings out of it! Otherwise, this really would be the Bad Place.
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