Two points:
(1) Brain death is a clinical diagnosis still. It requires two independent practitioners to confirm it. I took care of (in September) of a toddler in the PICU who was "brain dead", but did not meet clinical brain death criteria. He was accidentally strangled in a crib, and had a massive anoxic brain injury in spite of being resuscitated at an outside hospital and transferred to our facility for care. We did an MRI of his brain and he had absolutely no cerebral (telencephalic and diencephalic) brain function, which was clear on the MRI pictures. He was unresponsive to painful stimulus and did not have corneal reflexes. However, when we stopped the ventilator, he was able to continue an ataxic breathing pattern that would sustain his life. We kept him like this for 10 days and had serious discussions with the family. When it was clear to the family that he would never recover from this injury to lead a normal, meaningful existence (which had been immediately clear to us), they decided to extubate him and withdraw support. He died within an hour.
(2) I have participated in total circulatory arrest cases in the operating room, most recently this past weekend. The most recent scenario involved a 84-year-old gentleman who had a complete disruption of his ascending aorta secondary to a ruptured plaque. We circ-arrested him for only about 10 minutes, and maintained low cererbral blood flow for about two hours after that. The rest of his body got no blood flow during that time. We packed his head in ice and the perfusion pump was cooled. His core body temperature during this time was 18.1 celsius. Now, I'd talked to this man before the operation. He even signed his own consent form. After the surgery, it took him two full days to "wake up". I saw him on Tuesday of this week, and you could tell his mental status had changed. It was amazing enough that he was alive and talking after an injury that had predicted he'd never make it off of the table, but he will likely never be the same.
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What I have learned, as a clinician, can best be summed up by the thoughts of a neurosurgeon I've worked with, and it is a quite profound way to look at this problem. He told me once (and I'm paraphrasing), "Death is really a continuum. There's sometimes no really good way to determine in a catastrophic brain injury when the patient actually died." If you think about this, it makes sense. We know to remain "conscious" you need one of two hemispheres and an intact reticular activating system. If you blow out any of these things, are you still really alive? Certainly, your physiologic signs may say "yes" to that, but you've lost your "CPU" and you will never be able to process any input from that point forward on a conscious, meaningful level. And, with the advent of powerful drugs and mechanical devices as well as extreme surgical interventions, we've effectively blurred the line between what once would've been the natural terminal course of some conditions.
Who's right? I don't know. All I know is some of the brain bleeders I've seen and traumas and tumors and other conditions where you know that the person will never recover or even survive without intense critical life support is certainly not being "alive" to me, and is no way that I want to continue my existence if I'm ever unfortunate enough to be in that situation. We stumble through our ability to determine this as frail human beings trying to give the benefit of the doubt to the victim, and sometimes unexpected recoveries do occur (but usually only when the clinical diagnosis is uncertain). Protocols are blunt tools that assist us, but more often than not they cannot possibly mollify or assuage the wrenching decision to withdraw care on a family member. I can only imagine how hard that must be for the patient's family, because I know how hard it is for me as a practitioner. I've lived it, and that "gray" area is no fun place to be. Trust me.
-Dr. Imago