Stuart Youngner

The transplantation and procurement of human organs has become almost routine in American society. Yet, organ transplantation raises difficult ethical and psychosocial issues in the context of “controlled” death, including the blurring of boundaries between life and death, self and other, healing and harming, and killing and letting die. These issues are explored in the context of the actual experiences of organ donors and recipients, brain death, the introduction of non‐heartbeating donor protocols, and the increasing reliance on living donors. The author draws on a thematic analysis of the way that organ transplantation is presented in the media, films, and science fiction and on his clinical experience as a psychiatrist working with transplant patients, their families, and the nurses and physicians who care for them

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Back to the Future:Obtaining Organs from Non-Heart-Beating CadaversRobert M. Arnold (bio) and Stuart J. Youngner (bio)Organ Transplantation requires viable donor organs. This simple fact has become the Achilles' heel of transplantation programs. Progress in immunology and transplant surgery has outstripped the supply of available organs. Between 1988 and 1991, for example, the number of transplant candidates on waiting lists increased by about 55 percent, while the number of donors increased only about 16 percent.1 By the end of March 1993, more than 30,000 potential recipients awaited transplantation (United Network for Organ Sharing Database (UNOS) 1993). Every day six of these patients die prior to receiving a heart or liver transplant, while patients needing kidney transplants must tolerate a lower quality of life on dialysis (Grenvik 1992; Evans, Orians, and Ascher 1992).This scarcity is likely to get worse. As transplantation becomes more successful, it is being offered to sicker and older patients. Attempts to transplant other solid organs, such as small bowel and pancreas, will only fuel the demand for donors. However, the current source of organs is unlikely to grow. Most organs come from patients who have been declared dead by neurologic criteria (commonly referred to as "brain dead" or heart-beating cadaver donors (HBCDs) because their hearts are beating at the time of procurement). Estimates of the potential pool of HBCDs have been revised downward from 20,000-27,000 to roughly 10,000-12,000 (Nathan et al. 1991). Improvements in automobile safety and handgun legislation will likely lead to further reductions. Moreover, the rate of procurement from HBCDs has remained relatively flat despite extensive public awareness campaigns and legislation requiring hospitals to routinely request donation from families of dead patients (Caplan et al. 1992).If organ transplantation is going to continue to flourish, alternative [End Page 103] sources of organs must be found. Recently the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) proposed procuring organs from patients who have been declared dead by traditional cardiopulmonary rather than brain-oriented criteria after they or their families have decided to forgo life-sustaining treatment—hereafter referred to as the Pittsburgh protocol (UPMC Policy 1993). These patients are typically referred to as non-heart-beating cadaver donors (NHBCDs) because their hearts are no longer beating at the time of organ procurement.Although NHBCDs were a major source of transplantable kidneys prior to the institution of death by neurologic criteria, their usefulness was limited by "warm ischemia time." This term refers to the injury to tissues that occurs when the blood supply is interrupted and before the organs are cooled and reperfused. Under the Pittsburgh protocol, therapy is withdrawn in the operating room where a waiting surgical team removes organs immediately after death is declared. By controlling the place and time of death, it has been possible to minimize warm ischemia time and thus solve the technical problems previously associated with procurement from NHBCDs.The potential contribution of NHBCD organs is significant. Nathan (1992), using data from Delaware Valley Transplant Program, concludes that the use of severely brain injured, but not "brain dead" patients, would increase the donor pool by 20-25 percent. Moreover, unpublished data from the Pittsburgh organ procurement organization, the Center for Organ Recovery and Education (CORE), suggests that these organs, particularly kidneys, function as well as those procured from HBCDs (Broznick 1993).This volume is devoted to the ethical, psychosocial, and public policy implications of procuring organs from non-heart-beating cadaver donors after a discussion to forgo life-sustaining treatment. The genesis of this volume was a project in which we invited leading experts in transplantation, ethics, and public policy to use the Pittsburgh protocol as a starting point for exploring a broad range of issues associated with attempts to procure organs from NHBCDs. The issues raised by NHBCDs turned out to have important implications about the fundamental conceptual and moral assumptions underlying organ procurement.Although each of the papers in this volume can be read separately, we intend the volume to be read as a whole. Many of the latter pieces on the ethical implications of the policy are best understood in light of the earlier background papers...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:IntroductionStuart J. Youngner (bio), Laura A. Siminoff (bio), and Renie Schapiro (bio)This issue of the Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal (KIEJ) centers on a piece of empirical research. The motivation behind the study of Laura Siminoff, Christopher Burant, and Stuart Youngner (2004) was to find out more about what the general public understands and believes about when a person is dead. More specifically, the study tried to determine how members of the public define death, especially their acceptance and interpretation of the medical concept of "brain death," and their attitudes toward the so-called "dead donor rule," an informal but powerful social and legal norm insisting that the taking of organs for transplantation not cause the death of the source of those organs.As the demand for organs increases and the waiting list grows, the United States has explored multiple ways to expand the pool of potential donors. One approach has been to gerrymander (coherently or not) the line between life and death to shift patients who are extremely compromised but traditionally considered to be in the living category into the dead category. In this way, the dead donor rule remains technically intact. This reasoning is explicit in the report of the Harvard Medical School Ad Hoc Committee (1968) that "introduced" "brain death" to the American culture. Since then, other efforts to redraw the line have been proposed and rejected.One alternative to gerrymandering is to consider under what conditions, if any, it is morally acceptable to violate the dead donor rule. Some would argue that this alternative is the more "honest" approach. Rather than sidestepping moral problems by calling people dead, it brings the moral problems to the surface where the necessity of sticking to the rule can be considered on its own merits. However, when the Journal of the American Medical Association printed a position paper that proposed making anencepahlic newborns an exception to the dead donor rule, along with arguments about why this was acceptable, the outcry was so great that the proposal was retracted (AMA 1995).Clearly, our society has identified organ transplantation as a priority, although two papers in this volume (those by Courtney Campbell and by Megan Crowley-Matoka and Robert Arnold) take issue with that prioritization. The fact that the donor pool has remained relatively stable (and inadequate) despite massive efforts [End Page 211] to increase it speaks, at least in part, to the cultural and legal resistance to "new" ways to procure more organs. Voluntarism seems to have peaked. Financial incentives clash with the heavily endorsed notion of the "gift of life" and seem to many to violate the dignity of the human body. Presumed consent or eminent domain, in which the community has a greater claim to a person's organs than that person or his/her family, go against the grain of American individual freedom and the ethos of patient autonomy.Abandoning the dead donor rule generally is regarded as an even tougher sell to the American public and its legislators. The study by Siminoff and colleagues attempts, among other things, to gauge just how tough this sell would be. What the data actually demonstrate is a matter of interpretation, and this issue of the KIEJ is devoted to some of those interpretations. The authors, with the exception of Daniel Hausman, came together for a meeting in Cleveland, Ohio, during which the study's methods and data were presented with time for questions, clarifications, and general discussion. The authors then worked with the editors to generate the papers printed in this volume.The issue begins with a presentation of the study conducted by Siminoff and colleagues. The same paper also appears in the journal Social Science and Medicine, where it includes the conclusions of the authors (Siminoff, Burant, and Youngner 2004). In the current volume, we present only the methodology of and data from the study, allowing a number of distinguished commentators to offer their own conclusions and reflections.The first response comes from Tracy Schmidt, Executive Director of Intermountain Donor Services, one of our nation's organ procurement organizations (OPOs). For years, organ procurement professionals have reported anecdotal stories about families who wished to donate organs of...

Mandating psychiatric evaluation for patients who request physician‐assisted suicide may not offer the clearcut protection from possible coercion or other abuse that proponents assert. Competence itself is a complex concept and determinations of decisionmaking capacity are not straightforward, nor is the relationship between mental illness and decisionmaking capacity in dying patients clearly understood. And casting psychiatrists as gatekeepers in end‐of‐life decisions poses risks to the profession itself.

The Texas Advance Directive Act allows physicians and hospitals to overrule patient or family requests for futile care. Purposefully not defining futility, the law leaves its determination in specific cases to an institutional process. While the law has received several criticisms, it does seem to work constructively in the cases that come to the review process. We introduce a new criticism: While the law has been justified by an appeal to professional values such as avoiding harm to patients, avoiding the provision of unseemly care, and good stewardship of medical resources, it is applied incompletely. It allows physicians and institutional committees to refuse “futile” treatments desired by patients and families while at the same time providing no way of regulating physicians who recommend or even push “futile” treatments in similar cases. In this sense, the TADA is incomplete on its own terms

Although clinical ethics consultation is a high-stakes endeavor with an increasing prominence in health care systems, progress in developing standards for quality is challenging. In this article, we describe the results of a pilot project utilizing portfolios as an evaluation tool. We found that this approach is feasible and resulted in a reasonably wide distribution of scores among the 23 submitted portfolios that we evaluated. We discuss limitations and implications of these results, and suggest that this is a significant step on the pathway to an eventual certification process for clinical ethics consultants

The current institutional focus on patient satisfaction and on surveys designed to assess this could eventually compromise the quality of health care while simultaneously raising its cost. We begin this paper with an overview of the concept of patient satisfaction, which remains poorly and variously defined. Next, we trace the evolution of patient‐satisfaction surveys, including both their useful and problematic aspects. We then describe the effects of these surveys, the most troubling of which may be their influence on the behavior of health professionals. The pursuit of high patient‐satisfaction scores may actually lead health professionals and institutions to practice bad medicine by honoring patient requests for unnecessary and even harmful treatments. Patient satisfaction is important, especially when it is a response to being treated with dignity and respect, and patient‐satisfaction surveys have a valuable place in evaluating health care. Nonetheless, some uses and consequences of these surveys may actively mislead health care.Our critique of patient‐satisfaction surveys takes into consideration three different ways patients may be “satisfied.” First is the provision of medically necessary care that actually improves their outcomes. The second concerns interventions that patients or families want but that are medically unnecessary and may negatively affect health outcomes. The third category—comprising factors that are less likely to affect health outcomes but may certainly contribute to a sense of dignity and well‐being—includes “humanistic” aspects of health care, such as good communication and treating patients with respect, as well as peripheral aspects, such as convenient parking and designer hospital gowns. These distinctions are important as we explore patient satisfaction and its implications.

Two factors, medical science's growing control over the timing of death and the increasingly desperate need for organs, have led to a reopening of the debate about the definition of death and have forced a consideration of aspects of the determination of death that had never been addressed before. Without the pressing need for organs, the definition of death would have remained on the back shelf, the conversation of a few interested philosophers or theologians. This article examines some new questions raised by medical technology and the frantic search for new, morally acceptable sources of human organs over the past thirty years. This examination concludes that death itself is a social construct and that, in a pluralistic society such as ours, a conclusive definition of death or determination of the moment of death is out of the reach of both medical science and philosophy.

The dead donor rule—that persons must be dead before their organs are taken—is a central part of the moral framework underlying organ procurement. Efforts to increase the pool of transplantable organs have been forced either to redefine death (e.g., anencephaly) or take advantage of ambiguities in the current definition of death (e.g., the Pittsburgh protocol). Society's growing acceptance of circumstances in which health care professionals can hasten a patient's death also may weaken the symbolic importance of the dead donor rule. We consider the implications of these efforts to continually revise the line between life and death and ask whether it would be preferable to abandon the dead donor rule and rely entirely on informed consent as a safeguard against abuse.