Ethical Considerations in the Care of Patients with Neurosurgical Disease




Acknowledgment


The authors express their gratitude to previous authors of this chapter: Alex John London, Angelique Reitsma, and Connie Zuckerman.


Research advances and heightened clinical capabilities have enabled those who care for patients with neurosurgical disease to make great strides toward restoring the health and well- being of such patients and reducing morbidity and mortality. Yet for every new technologic advance and clinical application, new issues have also arisen for caregivers, such as (1) the appropriate selection of patients for application of new technologies and enrollment in clinical trials, (2) the involvement of patients and families in balancing the risks of new treatments against their possible benefits, and (3) how to make decisions for patients who may not be able to participate in the decision- making process yet for whom significant decisions must be made concerning the kind of care to be delivered.


Such questions demand that clinicians look beyond their clinical training and subspecialty expertise when facing the genuine ethical dilemmas that are now an integral part of the clinical setting. Determining the moral status of one’s actions can be a troubling and sometimes arduous process for even the most enlightened of clinicians. Because such moral issues permeate clinical practice and because their resolution often requires serious and extended deliberation, clinicians should become familiar with the systems of “clinical ethics” and research ethics that have emerged over the last 35 years. Such familiarity will enable clinicians to deal more effectively with these difficult issues by applying philosophical reasoning and ethical analysis to the problems they encounter in the course of research and clinical practice.


Heightened sensitivity to ethical concerns in the clinical setting has also been accompanied by increased awareness of and concern for the role of the legal system in clinical practice. As medical and surgical care has become ever more sophisticated and developments in the legal process have both educated patients and encouraged them to assert themselves in the provider–patient relationship, physicians have naturally become more sensitive to the legal status of their actions. A clinical ethics framework that incorporates a perspective of legal concerns as it also tries to determine the appropriateness of an action may lie well beyond narrow legal definitions applicable in a particular situation. Although it is incumbent on the clinician to be aware of the legal backdrop for clinical practice, many ethical dilemmas move beyond mere legal technicalities, requiring the clinician to evaluate concurrent and, at times, conflicting duties, rights, and values that are an inevitable part of the provider–patient relationship. In this chapter, we address the ethical issues that confront caregivers of the neurosurgical patient population.




An introduction to the history and theory of medical ethics


We begin with an overview of the historic development of medical ethics. The account concentrates mainly on the Western secular tradition that begins with followers of Hippocrates and emerges in a fundamentally altered form in the current framework of clinical ethics. We then describe the essential features of the current framework.


Origins of Contemporary Medical Ethics


Western medical ethics is believed to have originated with the Hippocratic cult (about 450 to 300 bc ), a group of early physicians who are thought to have been heavily influenced by the Pythagorean thinkers. Rather than ascribing disease to be solely the province of supernatural or deistic causes, this group was responsible for one of the first systemized efforts to impart a naturalistic approach to the study and practice of medicine. In addition to their accomplishments in mathematics, the Pythagoreans developed a moral philosophy that emphasized respect for life. This outlook would account, for example, for the apparent strictures on abortion and euthanasia that are features of a prominent version of the Hippocratic Oath. For different reasons, the oath also prohibits surgery, which was not regarded as a proper part of a physicians’ activities. The attitudes held by the Hippocratic physicians apparently were not widely held among other physician cults of the ancient world.


The Hippocratic tradition urges physicians to “do no harm” and to use their skills for the welfare of the individual patient. For many years these principles were thought to justify medical paternalism because they seemed to generate duties that were mainly intended to minimize physical harm and to improve the patient’s physical well-being. Given that the physician possessed specialized knowledge of the physical structures and causal processes of the patient’s body, the physician and not the patient was considered most qualified to determine a patient’s health care goals and the means to achieving them. On the basis of this reading of the Hippocratic Oath, patients were not thought qualified to shape the course of their individual care because of their general lack of scientific insight into the nature and workings of their own physical condition.


The last 40 years or so have witnessed a trenchant and often passionate critique of the idea that a patient’s best interests are limited to or exhausted by his or her physical wellbeing. Because a patient’s best interests must be determined in light of his or her values and life goals and because the value a patient places on physical well-being depends on how it fits within this larger framework of values and projects, the competent and well-informed patient is generally recognized as the best judge of appropriate health care goals. Few would deny the accuracy of the Hippocratic conception of medicine as a science whose goal is the health and physical welfare of the patient nor challenge the claim that physicians must always look after the best interests of their patients. However, the fact that a competent patient lacks specialized medical knowledge is generally recognized to be less important than the fact that each patient is the most qualified judge of the relative value of his or her physical well-being in relation to his or her larger life goals and projects. For this reason, patient self-determination, as well as its culmination in the doctrine of informed consent, represents the bedrock of contemporary clinical ethics.


As medical science has progressed and physicians have developed the ability to alter the course of a person’s life with the use of an array of medical technology, patients have taken a greater interest in determining the way their lives should be shaped. The early seeds of patient self-determination and the doctrine of informed consent began developing as early as the latter part of the 19th century. This period and the early part of the 20th century saw many legal cases involving surgical patients whose consent to excision of tissues had not been obtained. Under prevailing legal theories, these actions were at first considered torts, such as battery or “unconsented touching.” As medical and judicial systems evolved, they were then gradually brought under a negligence theory. This change strengthened the growing expectation that informing a patient of the reason for the procedure and obtaining consent for it were proper parts of the physician–patient relationship. In theory, at least, obtaining the patient’s informed consent became an essential aspect of the developing standard of care. However, honoring this legal requirement in clinical reality awaited the increased attention to ethical issues that emerged in the late 1960s.


Although we focus here on clinical ethics, no survey of the history of medical ethics can omit society’s reaction to the abuses of human beings perpetrated by physicians and scientists in the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. The revelations at Nuremberg led to the promulgation in Helsinki and Geneva of international standards for the protection of research subjects. Unfortunately, these efforts did not prevent blatantly unethical practices in the context of subsequent research by American investigators. As a result, strict statutory protections were established to ensure the informed consent of research participants, including protocol review by institutional committees. Public recognition of research abuses led to heightened scrutiny of the physician–patient relationship in the clinical setting and greater support for the concept of informed consent.


Technologic advances once again profoundly influenced the direction of medical ethics, beginning in the later 1960s with the arrival of practical artificial respiratory equipment and, in the early 1970s, with the development of materials that facilitated artificial hydration and nutrition. These advances—combined with social and political changes, including the civil rights movement—culminated in the celebrated legal case of Karen Ann Quinlan in 1976. In the Quinlan decision, the New Jersey Supreme Court established that the right to refuse medical treatment was fundamental and could be exercised on behalf of an incompetent patient by informed surrogates who were knowledgeable about the patient’s previous values and lifestyle. The family was found to be in the best position to represent the wishes of their close relative.


In summary, the history of Western medical ethics has featured a transition from the “beneficence” orientation (doing good for the patient) of premodern medicine to the view that the patient must ultimately decide what his or her best interests are after going through a process of informed consent. Both morally and legally, patient self-determination has become the gold standard of modern biomedical ethics. In the next section, we review the prevailing philosophical principles and theories that are often used to further assess ethical problems in modern medicine.


Prevailing Theories and Principles


The term medical ethics, as it is used in contemporary society, is somewhat ambiguous. It may refer to those rules of conduct established by the formal bodies of the medical profession in the course of regulating itself, such as the prohibition of the sexual exploitation of one’s patients, or it may refer to novel ethical dilemmas that actually confront health care workers and have no obvious solution in terms of traditional values and ethical codes, such as the removal of life-support systems from irreversibly comatose patients.


Two philosophical approaches dominate the literature. Tracing its roots to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), the Kantian tradition holds that people have a fundamental right to be treated as ends in themselves and not merely as a means to some other end. The basis of the Kantian view is that each person has the capacity to take on projects and to give a distinctive shape to his or her own life. This capacity must be respected in each individual because the value of all other things is derived from the exercise of this capacity. Patient self-determination and informed consent are, therefore, the preeminent Kantian values for clinical ethics, because without them we cannot freely set the ends for ourselves that give all other things their moral worth. As such, they represent the necessary conditions for treating a patient as an end in himself or herself.


Utilitarianism traces its roots back to the English philosophers Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) and John Stuart Mill (1806–1873). Utilitarianism is a form of consequentialism, which holds that actions or policies are right in proportion to the extent to which they promote the aggregate happiness or well-being. Whereas the Kantian can claim that physicians have special duties to their patients, which derive from the need to respect their patients as ends in themselves, the utilitarian must argue that any duties physicians owe to their patients are rooted in the fact that fulfilling those duties maximizes overall happiness.


Although the principle of autonomy is commonly regarded as the first principle of contemporary medical ethics, those with a more utilitarian slant believe that it is conceptually balanced by the principle of beneficence; the obligation to do good for the patient. Beneficence is closely associated with the traditional Hippocratic obligation to at least not harm the patient, or the principle of nonmaleficence. Arguments that establish the moral basis of beneficence and nonmaleficence are available both to Kantian and utilitarian theories. The main difference between these theories, therefore, lies not in the principles they recognize but in the way they justify those principles and the way they order them in relation to one another.




An introduction to the history and theory of medical ethics


We begin with an overview of the historic development of medical ethics. The account concentrates mainly on the Western secular tradition that begins with followers of Hippocrates and emerges in a fundamentally altered form in the current framework of clinical ethics. We then describe the essential features of the current framework.


Origins of Contemporary Medical Ethics


Western medical ethics is believed to have originated with the Hippocratic cult (about 450 to 300 bc ), a group of early physicians who are thought to have been heavily influenced by the Pythagorean thinkers. Rather than ascribing disease to be solely the province of supernatural or deistic causes, this group was responsible for one of the first systemized efforts to impart a naturalistic approach to the study and practice of medicine. In addition to their accomplishments in mathematics, the Pythagoreans developed a moral philosophy that emphasized respect for life. This outlook would account, for example, for the apparent strictures on abortion and euthanasia that are features of a prominent version of the Hippocratic Oath. For different reasons, the oath also prohibits surgery, which was not regarded as a proper part of a physicians’ activities. The attitudes held by the Hippocratic physicians apparently were not widely held among other physician cults of the ancient world.


The Hippocratic tradition urges physicians to “do no harm” and to use their skills for the welfare of the individual patient. For many years these principles were thought to justify medical paternalism because they seemed to generate duties that were mainly intended to minimize physical harm and to improve the patient’s physical well-being. Given that the physician possessed specialized knowledge of the physical structures and causal processes of the patient’s body, the physician and not the patient was considered most qualified to determine a patient’s health care goals and the means to achieving them. On the basis of this reading of the Hippocratic Oath, patients were not thought qualified to shape the course of their individual care because of their general lack of scientific insight into the nature and workings of their own physical condition.


The last 40 years or so have witnessed a trenchant and often passionate critique of the idea that a patient’s best interests are limited to or exhausted by his or her physical wellbeing. Because a patient’s best interests must be determined in light of his or her values and life goals and because the value a patient places on physical well-being depends on how it fits within this larger framework of values and projects, the competent and well-informed patient is generally recognized as the best judge of appropriate health care goals. Few would deny the accuracy of the Hippocratic conception of medicine as a science whose goal is the health and physical welfare of the patient nor challenge the claim that physicians must always look after the best interests of their patients. However, the fact that a competent patient lacks specialized medical knowledge is generally recognized to be less important than the fact that each patient is the most qualified judge of the relative value of his or her physical well-being in relation to his or her larger life goals and projects. For this reason, patient self-determination, as well as its culmination in the doctrine of informed consent, represents the bedrock of contemporary clinical ethics.


As medical science has progressed and physicians have developed the ability to alter the course of a person’s life with the use of an array of medical technology, patients have taken a greater interest in determining the way their lives should be shaped. The early seeds of patient self-determination and the doctrine of informed consent began developing as early as the latter part of the 19th century. This period and the early part of the 20th century saw many legal cases involving surgical patients whose consent to excision of tissues had not been obtained. Under prevailing legal theories, these actions were at first considered torts, such as battery or “unconsented touching.” As medical and judicial systems evolved, they were then gradually brought under a negligence theory. This change strengthened the growing expectation that informing a patient of the reason for the procedure and obtaining consent for it were proper parts of the physician–patient relationship. In theory, at least, obtaining the patient’s informed consent became an essential aspect of the developing standard of care. However, honoring this legal requirement in clinical reality awaited the increased attention to ethical issues that emerged in the late 1960s.


Although we focus here on clinical ethics, no survey of the history of medical ethics can omit society’s reaction to the abuses of human beings perpetrated by physicians and scientists in the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. The revelations at Nuremberg led to the promulgation in Helsinki and Geneva of international standards for the protection of research subjects. Unfortunately, these efforts did not prevent blatantly unethical practices in the context of subsequent research by American investigators. As a result, strict statutory protections were established to ensure the informed consent of research participants, including protocol review by institutional committees. Public recognition of research abuses led to heightened scrutiny of the physician–patient relationship in the clinical setting and greater support for the concept of informed consent.


Technologic advances once again profoundly influenced the direction of medical ethics, beginning in the later 1960s with the arrival of practical artificial respiratory equipment and, in the early 1970s, with the development of materials that facilitated artificial hydration and nutrition. These advances—combined with social and political changes, including the civil rights movement—culminated in the celebrated legal case of Karen Ann Quinlan in 1976. In the Quinlan decision, the New Jersey Supreme Court established that the right to refuse medical treatment was fundamental and could be exercised on behalf of an incompetent patient by informed surrogates who were knowledgeable about the patient’s previous values and lifestyle. The family was found to be in the best position to represent the wishes of their close relative.


In summary, the history of Western medical ethics has featured a transition from the “beneficence” orientation (doing good for the patient) of premodern medicine to the view that the patient must ultimately decide what his or her best interests are after going through a process of informed consent. Both morally and legally, patient self-determination has become the gold standard of modern biomedical ethics. In the next section, we review the prevailing philosophical principles and theories that are often used to further assess ethical problems in modern medicine.


Prevailing Theories and Principles


The term medical ethics, as it is used in contemporary society, is somewhat ambiguous. It may refer to those rules of conduct established by the formal bodies of the medical profession in the course of regulating itself, such as the prohibition of the sexual exploitation of one’s patients, or it may refer to novel ethical dilemmas that actually confront health care workers and have no obvious solution in terms of traditional values and ethical codes, such as the removal of life-support systems from irreversibly comatose patients.


Two philosophical approaches dominate the literature. Tracing its roots to the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), the Kantian tradition holds that people have a fundamental right to be treated as ends in themselves and not merely as a means to some other end. The basis of the Kantian view is that each person has the capacity to take on projects and to give a distinctive shape to his or her own life. This capacity must be respected in each individual because the value of all other things is derived from the exercise of this capacity. Patient self-determination and informed consent are, therefore, the preeminent Kantian values for clinical ethics, because without them we cannot freely set the ends for ourselves that give all other things their moral worth. As such, they represent the necessary conditions for treating a patient as an end in himself or herself.


Utilitarianism traces its roots back to the English philosophers Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) and John Stuart Mill (1806–1873). Utilitarianism is a form of consequentialism, which holds that actions or policies are right in proportion to the extent to which they promote the aggregate happiness or well-being. Whereas the Kantian can claim that physicians have special duties to their patients, which derive from the need to respect their patients as ends in themselves, the utilitarian must argue that any duties physicians owe to their patients are rooted in the fact that fulfilling those duties maximizes overall happiness.


Although the principle of autonomy is commonly regarded as the first principle of contemporary medical ethics, those with a more utilitarian slant believe that it is conceptually balanced by the principle of beneficence; the obligation to do good for the patient. Beneficence is closely associated with the traditional Hippocratic obligation to at least not harm the patient, or the principle of nonmaleficence. Arguments that establish the moral basis of beneficence and nonmaleficence are available both to Kantian and utilitarian theories. The main difference between these theories, therefore, lies not in the principles they recognize but in the way they justify those principles and the way they order them in relation to one another.




Issues of clinical decision making


The Provider–Patient Relationship


Self-Determination


Strictly speaking, autonomy refers to the potential for the individual to be self-determining. Self-determination is, in this line of thinking, regarded as a good thing in itself and also as a means to an end. It is the expression of an individual’s personality. Self-determination is thought to be the best means of identifying an individual’s best interest, a determination that involves the incorporation of that person’s values into a decision. This concept suggests that each individual is in the best position to assess aspects of decision making in the context of his or her own value system. In the clinical setting, self-determination is exercised through the informed consent process, which allows the patient ultimately to determine the most individually appropriate health care choice on the basis of his or her own values and preferences.


Because self-determination is regarded as good, certain individuals may be obligated to foster another’s self-determination, if they have a certain type of relationship with that individual. An example is a parent who has a unique opportunity to help the developing child realize his or her individuality by helping to prepare the child to make his or her own choices. Choices are not thought to be truly the result of self-determination until they are considered judgments that encompass the person’s reflective deliberation. It is implicit that these judgments would then also be authentic and reliable representations of that person’s character and values.


The promotion of a patient’s self-determination is a major responsibility, and many conditions could prevent its realization in the clinical setting. One of these is the sense of vulnerability that can accompany illness. Physicians and other health care providers are in a powerful position, either to exploit this sense of vulnerability or to reduce it and instead promote a feeling that the patient has some measure of control over the situation. Ensuring the patient’s control would be a first important step in promoting the patient’s self-determination. A second important step would be to help the patient identify his or her own authentic preferences among the diagnostic or treatment options available.


Confidentiality


Confidentiality is one of the pillars of the Hippocratic tradition, and it is a fundamental concept that still forms an essential aspect of the physician–patient relationship. Although its strong theoretical basis is maintained, however, it is a concept under continuous assault in the clinical setting. Computerized databases containing sensitive information, team coverage of patient needs, and the demands of third-party insurers have all converged to threaten this fundamental aspect of the bond between patient and provider.


At its core, the concept of confidentiality means that all information that the patient shares with the provider during the course of being treated should remain private and confidential; it should not be revealed to those outside the patient–provider relationship. The trusting bond and fiduciary nature of the relationship should allow the patient to feel comfortable when revealing to the provider all information necessary to ensure a comprehensive understanding of the patient’s circumstances and a correct diagnosis of the patient’s condition, thereby fostering an individually appropriate caregiver response. In turn, as a means to encouraging the patient to be forthcoming, the provider ensures that no one else will come to know this highly personal and perhaps embarrassing information. Currently, “intrusions” are permitted into this relationship. Examples are multiple caregivers who learn of the patient’s circumstances in acute care settings and the insurance company that learns of the patient’s condition to determine whether reimbursement is warranted. Nonetheless, the notion that those who do not need to know these intimate details of the patient’s condition will not know is still an essential factor in the bond that ties the patient to the provider.


The costs of not guaranteeing confidentiality or breaching it when previously assured are significant both for the individual patient and for society. Patients who believe they cannot trust their providers and are, therefore, less than candid in their descriptions are likely to suffer the consequences of an incomplete assessment or even a misdiagnosis of their condition. They lose out on what their physicians may have to offer. Also, providers who breach their duty to keep information confidential fail in their ultimate obligation to act beneficently toward their patients and to do them no harm. Moreover, society as a whole is not served well when individuals in need of medical care feel inhibited or are unwilling to seek that care.


Our legal system has recognized the fundamental requirement of confidentiality between doctor and patient. Under most circumstances, information that passes between doctor and patient during the course of care is “privileged,” that is, inaccessible in a court of law; a judge or jury will be unable to learn of it. This special exclusion of possibly relevant information further ensures that patients do not feel inhibited when conversing with providers. Despite the essential drive in our court systems to bring out all possibly pertinent information in an individual case, society has nonetheless recognized that our interests as a whole are better served when patients and providers can feel assured that their discussions are private and confidential.


To further safeguard and protect an individual’s health information in an era of technologic sophistication, Congress enacted the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) in 2003. The Privacy Rule of HIPAA limits the ability of health plans, hospitals, physicians, and other covered entities to use and share a patient’s personal medical information through oral or written communication, computer transmission, and other communication methods. Many have criticized the burden and cost of the implementation of HIPAA and have expressed concern about its impact on research and clinical care, although few would question the challenges to privacy and confidentiality that exist in modern health care environments.


Nonetheless, in certain circumstances, other societal interests are believed to outweigh the interests served by confidentiality. For example, in the midst of certain public health epidemics, in which the obligation to protect the health of society may conflict with the desire to maintain individual confidentiality, a societal consensus is morally and legally justifiable to breach individual confidentiality under certain limited conditions. One example involves laws requiring the reporting of certain diagnoses to health departments and perhaps the tracing of contacts who may have been exposed to an individual’s illness. Another example concerns the need to protect the public from harm. Under the state’s “police power” (a constitutional concept), physicians have the obligation to report certain medical conditions, such as gunshot wounds. A third example occurs with respect to the state’s obligation to protect its most vulnerable members, also known as the state’s parens patriae power, which obliges health care providers to routinely breach confidentiality and report instances of known or suspected child abuse. Although the circumstances permitting the breach of confidentiality are limited, they clearly represent instances in which other significant societal interests make such a breach justifiable and even desirable, despite the potential harm that may befall an individual patient.


The Informed Consent Process


As stated earlier, the informed consent process permits the expression of individual self-determination in the clinical setting. From a legal perspective, this means that providers are obligated to disclose to patients all information that will allow them to arrive at an informed decision about their choices, including such information as the patient’s diagnosis and prognosis, a description of the proposed intervention and its risks and benefits to the patient, and the existence of alternative interventions, along with their risks and benefits. In some jurisdictions, there is the requirement that information “material” to that individual patient be disclosed. This requirement might oblige the provider to disclose certain details that he or she might not normally discuss under routine circumstances. Overall, it is essential that the physician provides information to the patient, so that the patient can consider the options and select the choice that promotes the patient’s best interests as the patient assesses them.


Philosophically, autonomy and its promotion both undergird the legal doctrine of informed consent and exert greater demands than the doctrine does. Indeed, one seminal philosophical account of the legal doctrine of the informed consent process exhibits a more detailed conceptual scheme than is found in the law ( Box 26.1 ) as we will discuss below.



Box 26.1

The Elements of Informed Consent *

* Our interpretation of these elements as discussed in this chapter may not in all instances be identical with that of Beauchamp and Childress. From Beauchamp T, Childress JF: Principles of Biomedical Ethics, 3rd ed. New York, Oxford University Press, 1989.





  • I.

    Competence (a threshold requirement)



    • 1.

      Information requirements


    • 2.

      Information


    • 3.

      Understanding



  • II.

    Consent requirements



    • 4.

      Consent


    • 5.

      Authorization





Competence


The possession of sufficient capacity to either consent to or refuse a proposed intervention is obviously a “threshold” requirement in the informed consent process; that is, only those patients capable of making health care choices reflective of personal values have the ability to give informed consent and to be considered self-determining. Patients whose decisional capacity is impaired or lost are generally considered unable to integrate factual information with personal preferences and are thus viewed as in need of assistance with choices or even protection from harmful choices, through the use of either a surrogate decision maker or some other method of deciding on care. Therefore consideration of how the “capacity to decide” is to be determined in the clinical setting is essential.


Strictly speaking, the word competence denotes a legal concept, meaning that only a court of law can determine whether to suspend the legal presumption of competency, which generally attaches to all who reach the age of 18 years. The legal presumption of competency enables adults to involve themselves in all fundamental activities of citizenship, including the ability to vote, to contract with another, to write a will, and to get married. It is an empowering concept, covering a range of activities in which the individual is presumed capable of participating. A judicial declaration of incompetency is generally intended to apply globally, that is, to formally disempower the individual in most, if not all, major aspects of controlling his or her life.


The routine assessment of competence in the clinical setting usually has little connection with the sort of global assessment that informs a judicial determination. Rather, competence in this setting is generally judged in the context of whether the patient is capable of either consenting to or refusing a particular proposed intervention. The determination is usually made by an attending physician, sometimes with the assistance of a professional from another discipline, such as a psychiatrist.


Competence to decide about medical treatment may call on various abilities, depending on the demands of the task at hand. Yet some general abilities are required in the process of becoming involved in treatment decisions. These include the ability to understand or appreciate the nature of various alternatives and their consequences and the ability to communicate a preference. In reaching a personal preference, one must also be capable of reasoning and deliberation, the latter term signaling that this is a process in which the decision maker’s own values are gradually brought to bear on the question. Accordingly, the competent decision maker’s values will be more or less stable and consistent over time; they will be values that the decision maker recognizes as his or her own.


Information


The patient with decisional authority (or the properly identified surrogate decision maker) is entitled to all the information available about his or her condition that would be relevant to making a decision about treatment. This information includes not only known or estimated risks and benefits of proposed therapies and their alternatives, but also the implications of having no treatment at all. The free flow of information to the patient, however sensitively it may need to be conveyed, is obviously vital for a valid consent process. Likewise, for the provider to suggest an individually appropriate treatment course for that patient, the patient must be encouraged to communicate openly with the provider.


Full information is one of the legal pillars of informed consent, the other being the free and uncoerced consent itself. Exceptions to such disclosure do exist, namely, the “therapeutic privilege,” which permits the physician to withhold information from the patient or to seek consent from an appropriate surrogate when provision of such information would be so detrimental that the result would be counter-therapeutic and would bring about harm. Concern is often expressed about doing harm to the patient, particularly by physicians in fields in which terminal illness is common, about the “inhumanity” of telling the patient the unvarnished truth. However, distinguishing between the inherently unwelcome nature of bad medical news and information that might actually induce negative physical consequences in the patient is important. The majority of patients who have been surveyed desire to have information given, even if it foretells their coming demise. In fact, the real need for the therapeutic privilege is rare if it is employed for its actual intent, rather than for the purpose of affording the physician the opportunity to avoid a difficult discussion. Although it is appropriate that information be imparted in a sensitive manner, imparted it should be, nonetheless.


At such times it might be tempting to speak first with, for example, the patient’s adult child to enlist his or her support before an encounter with an older patient. For several reasons, this temptation should be avoided. First, certain classes of patients, such as those who are elderly, are too easily stereotyped as unable to manage emotionally powerful information, even though they may be quite functional in other areas of their lives and lacking any psychiatric history relevant to this issue. Second, the information is, after all, confidential information. Because it is of more concern to the patient than to anyone else, he or she has the right to hear it first. Third, the misguided attempt to enlist the adult child’s help could backfire in several ways. The grown child may not be prepared for the loss of a parent, may not enjoy the patient’s confidence, or may even have a personal agenda that is in conflict with or opposed to the best interests of the patient. There is no barrier to asking the patient whether it would be desirable for the physician to have a conversation with a particular relative, whether privately or with the patient, so that all three can cooperate in planning for the patient’s future. In the final analysis, however, the confidentiality of the patient must be respected.


Understanding


A somewhat different objection to the idea of the patient’s rendering informed consent is the argument that some medical decisions are so complex that the lay patient cannot be expected to understand their components, thus calling into question the entire foundation of the informed consent concept. Clearly a medical school education should not be a prerequisite for a workable consent process; fortunately, it is not required. Some patients will benefit from a technical presentation of their situation, but such a presentation is not necessarily required for the consent process to be valid. Information should be conveyed to patients so that they clearly understand how the proposed or available options will affect their lives; patients should be able to clearly articulate and understand the risks and benefits of these options as they concretely pertain to their lifestyles and preferences. Such an informing process is inevitably more satisfactory for both patient and provider when the informer knows the patient personally and understands the values that infuse the patient’s life. This is a difficult relationship to achieve, particularly for specialists who only briefly come to know the patient in the context of a specific acute situation. Nonetheless, a certain level of intimacy with the patient is essential to truly adhere to the principles that underlie the informed consent process and to help ensure that the patient truly understands the information of critical relevance to his or her personal decision.


Clinically, certain factors are inherent in both the patient’s condition and the environment of care that may lessen or even prevent the patient from understanding the information conveyed, no matter how precisely or sensitively it has been imparted. For example, a provider may be unsure whether a patient in an intensive care unit who has been sedated for pain relief can understand sufficiently to engage in informed consent. In addition, the distracting machinery of the environment or the disrupted schedule to which patients must conform also work against full comprehension and understanding on the patient’s part. The provider’s duty is to do everything possible to lessen or remove impediments that prevent the patient from fully participating in an informed consent process. Such actions might include temporarily moving a patient to more private or serene quarters to carry on a conversation or perhaps lessening a dosage of pain medication so that, although less comfortable, the patient may nonetheless better comprehend and consider the choices that lie before him or her. As well, the physician should be satisfied that there is no metabolic basis (such as a toxic reaction to new medication) to contribute to the patient’s lack of understanding.


Consent


Consent refers to the voluntary and uncoerced agreement of the patient. Consent is a more active process than mere assent or dissent. Ideally, it implies deliberation and perhaps also reflection based on one’s own values. Obstacles to truly reflective consent in the hospital include such previously cited factors as the physical conditions commonly associated with treatment for acute illness and the disorientation imparted by impersonal hospital routines and protocols. For example, mechanical restraints may be used for legitimate or illegitimate purposes, but they compromise the sense of control and voluntariness that enables a person to make well-considered choices.


Other sorts of constraints on the patient may be more subtle but no less undermining. Examples range from pressures associated with familial dynamics to concern with the financial consequences of one alternative in comparison with another. In extreme circumstances, the physician may be justified in assuming an active role as patient advocate in attempting to determine whether a stated choice is truly what the patient would want for himself or herself or whether it is reflective of certain pressures inflicted on the patient.


Authorization


An action is authorized when the individual with the appropriate authority gives approval. In accordance with the previous discussion, this individual is either the patient or some appropriately appointed representative of the patient. In certain circumstances, such as when an incompetent patient requires emergency care, the requirement for authorization is usually suspended because the immediate needs of the patient are thought to be so critical that time cannot be expended in locating someone other than the patient to provide authorization. In true emergency situations, when a patient’s background is unknown (ie, providers are not aware of any previously expressed wish on the patient’s part to decline the type of care about to be provided) and care must be provided immediately to avoid irreparable harm to the patient, the requirement for authorization is generally waived. In such cases, the legal presumption is that (1) reasonable persons would consent to such necessary care, (2) there is no reason to believe this patient would refuse the proposed care, and (3) the time needed to locate an appropriate surrogate might otherwise jeopardize the patient’s condition. Such a suspension of consent is temporary, however, because if the patient should subsequently regain capacity or an appropriate surrogate later becomes identified, then, of necessity, authorization would have to be obtained for any future interventions.


In a system preoccupied with documentation and record keeping, the signed consent form presumably giving authorization tends to substitute for the consent process itself. Of course, a form that purports to represent an actual event (that of informing the patient), but does not, is neither ethically nor legally valid. Similarly, verbal consent without a form signed by the patient or surrogate may be valid, although documentation of one kind or another is usually advisable (though sometimes not possible). Of overall importance is the dialogue that supports the documentation and that the consent form theoretically reflects.


Decision Making for Incapacitated Patients


The Importance of Prior Discussions


A common remark about the medical profession in the modern world is that some of the physician’s traditional “art” has succumbed to a preoccupation with applied science. Patients are often examined more in terms of their discrete diseases requiring investigation and intervention than as suffering individuals who face the dilemmas and perhaps deterioration brought on by medical crises. Whether or not this criticism is fair or historically accurate, many dilemmas arising out of confusing treatment circumstances could be ameliorated if the wishes of the patient were expressed and discussed with the physician before the patient’s loss of capacity.


Given that many people in our health care system do not have regular contact with a physician before the onset of serious illness, the opportunity for such ongoing discussions are not available to everyone. In addition, because few physicians are specially trained to undertake such intimate and personal discussions and because such discussions often require a significant amount of (unreimbursed) time, modern conditions for providing care are often not hospitable to fostering this kind of dialogue.


Still, conversations with patients either by primary care physicians or by specialists who have ongoing relationships with the patient provide excellent occasions for the practice of what is known as “preventive ethics.” Properly conducted and documented, such conversations can provide critical guidance even if they do not determine the nature of treatment for a patient who is no longer cogent. The point of such information gathering is not merely to relieve the professional of legal liability. Rather, when physicians discuss preferences in advance, they are acting in a respectful manner that the majority of patients appreciate. These discussions permit the patient to maintain control and to be self-determining, despite any future loss of capacity that may render the patient nonautonomous.


Advance Directives and Proxy Appointments


Because a patient’s prospective treatment wishes often involve matters of withholding or withdrawing life-sustaining treatment and because of the potential for legal involvement when such treatment decisions are made, attempts should be made to document these advance discussions. Such documentation is more likely to provide clarity in the midst of uncertainty or memory lapses and may also provide the type of legal evidence that may be necessary before life-sustaining care can be withheld or withdrawn.


Making sure that the medical record reflects the details of discussions between providers and patients is wise, and specific mechanisms exist in most communities to highlight the nature of these advance planning discussions. Depending on the legal jurisdiction, patients and physicians have the opportunity to document such preferences via several methods. (Readers should consult their local medical society for the precise arrangements legally available in their own jurisdictions.)


The two most commonly accepted methods for such advance planning documentation are the living will and the durable power of attorney for health care, also known as the health care proxy. Both mechanisms are used only if the patient loses the capacity to participate in the decision-making process. A living will is a document that patients execute before their loss of decisional capacity. The document serves to record for caregivers and loved ones what the patient’s preferences are about future treatment options, in terms of either desired treatment or the treatment the patient would wish to be withheld or withdrawn. Both afford the patient and provider ample opportunity to specify particular wishes and preferences, although the benefits of each method differ. Depending on patient circumstance, one method may be preferable to the other. Typically, such documents detail the types of interventions that patients wish to avoid as the ends of their lives approach. Many states have specified the precise form and content that such documents must follow to be legally binding; other states are generally more concerned with the clarity and the substance contained in the document.


In general, when executing a living will, the patient should be as explicit as possible, using precise language that is not susceptible to differing interpretations or misunderstanding. For example, language discussing “heroic” or “extraordinary” care might have different meanings to different interpreters. If a patient is specifically concerned about such potentially intrusive interventions as mechanical ventilation or artificial nutrition and hydration, then the patient should state this concern precisely. Patients are also advised to specify the precise physical circumstances under which they would want to trigger such withholding or withdrawal. For example, they should make clear whether they desire that permanent loss of consciousness or unremitting pain be present before treatment is withheld or withdrawn. The average lay person would of necessity need the input of a medical provider, both in terms of deciphering what future options may face the patient and determining the benefits and burdens of each option.


Even the most precise and specific living will may not cover every possible option that may confront the incapacitated patient; in addition, certain decisions may not be discernible from the contents of the document. Written documents are also helpful only if they are available (as opposed to being locked away in a drawer) and actually enforced. Therefore, many individuals choose to accompany or even replace their living wills with a durable power of attorney for health care or health care proxy. Such a mechanism allows the patient (known as the principal) to legally empower another individual to make whatever treatment decisions the patient would have made had the patient had capacity. Such a mechanism ensures that a healthy advocate will be legally available to assert the patient’s prior wishes and also permits flexibility and interpretation should a situation arise that the patient had not previously addressed.


Surrogate Decision Making: Who Decides and on What Basis?


Surrogates or agents specifically appointed by the patient in advance usually have the moral and legal authority to substitute for the patient if the patient becomes incapacitated. Depending on the jurisdiction, legally binding mechanisms can be used before the loss of capacity. In some circumstances, court appointment of a surrogate may be necessary. In some jurisdictions, the fact of biological or spousal connection may be sufficient to both morally and legally empower the surrogate, regardless of a lack of a previously executed document or the lack of court involvement. Once an appropriate surrogate is identified, that person has the responsibility to determine the best course of action for the now incapacitated patient. Just as for the patient, it is essential for the surrogate to go through an “informed consent” process with the patient’s providers to ascertain all of the clinically relevant details necessary to understanding the patient’s circumstances. However, such decisions clearly extend beyond the realm of medicine and usually involve value judgments that the patient brings to the process.


When a surrogate substitutes for the patient, the ideal method of making a decision is to consider and account for those values that defined the patient while capable, infused that patient’s actions, and determined the patient’s lifestyle. The ideal requirement is that the surrogate render a “substituted judgment” on the patient’s behalf, making the same sort of choice the patient would have made had he or she had the capacity to participate. This is no easy task, although the existence of a well-documented advance directive usually provides the surrogate with the type of information necessary to render such a judgment. In some circumstances, the surrogate may have to interpret or surmise what the patient would have wanted, on the basis of the surrogate’s knowledge of the patient as a person and how the patient lived his or her life. In some jurisdictions, such surrogate “interpretations” may not be legally acceptable, depending on the nature of the surrogate appointment and the clarity of the patient’s previously expressed wishes.


If such a substituted judgment is not possible, either because the surrogate has insufficient knowledge of the patient as a person or because whatever knowledge is available sheds little light on the current choice at hand, the surrogate would then be morally obligated to make the choice that promotes the patient’s “best interests.” This judgment is meant to incorporate considerations of a more “objective” nature, such as the patient’s prognosis, the patient’s pain and suffering, and the patient’s present and projected quality of life relative to the life the patient previously experienced, rather than a derogatory evaluation of personal worth in comparison with other members of society. In most circumstances, particularly those involving decisions to withhold or withdraw life-sustaining treatment, surrogates work with providers to determine the patient’s best interests in light of what can be done for the patient’s current situation, the patient’s underlying health and prognosis, and the burdens the patient may experience as a result of any measurable benefits to be achieved. However, in certain jurisdictions, the legality of such judgments may be challenged, and a concern about bias or prejudice always exists when discussions about “quality of life” emerge.


Particularly when discussion of the patient’s best interests focuses on treatments that might be “futile” and in no way beneficial to the patient, there is the potential for tremendous discord because the precise meaning of the concept of “futility” may change, depending on the specific orientation of the decision maker. For example, clinicians may view a course of treatment as “futile” if it does nothing to address the underlying condition that forms the subtext of the patient’s current situation. Yet others may regard “futility” as only apparent if no measurable benefit of any sort can be derived from a particular intervention.


Treatment Decisions Requiring Special Attention


“Do Not Resuscitate” Orders


Decisions as to whether to attempt resuscitative measures if a patient experiences a cardiac or pulmonary arrest should, theoretically, be no different from other patient treatment choices. Ideally, a provider would discuss the possible options and their risks and benefits with the patient in advance of any intervention, so that a decision to initiate cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) would reflect the patient’s desire that the provider intervene in such circumstances.


However, the reality and mythology that have developed around acute care decisions to resuscitate or to not resuscitate a patient have, for several reasons, brought this particular treatment situation into a different category. Cardiopulmonary resuscitation protocols for the restoration of oxygenation and circulation have been remarkably successful, in terms of both their standardization (by the National Research Council in 1966) and their public acceptance: by 1977, more than 12 million people had been trained in cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Second, because the use of cardiopulmonary resuscitation is often brought on by emergency circumstances, there may be no prior discussion of patient preference upon which to draw and often no knowledge of the patient at all. Third, decisions not to resuscitate require consent not to intervene, which is contradictory to the normal situation of consent to intervene in a particular circumstance. “Do not resuscitate” (DNR) orders require a conscious and, perhaps courageous, effort on the part of a team to recognize before a catastrophic event the inevitability of its occurrence and the likely outcome of intervention. Such forethought must happen in a climate that does little to foster discussion of death and does much to encourage the escalated use of sophisticated acute care technology merely because of its existence, rather than because of its likely benefit.


In one state (New York), legislation exists to actually define the legal parameters of DNR orders, but in most jurisdictions, the use of such orders must, of necessity, become a more familiar and comfortable process for those who often confront patients in the midst of an arrest. As with any other treatment decision, the ethically preferable process for making the DNR decision would be to undergo an informed consent process with the patient or, if the patient is incapacitated, with an appropriate surrogate. In the course of such a discussion, the provider’s duty would be to disclose the likelihood and definition of “success” for a person in this particular patient’s circumstances and would, as well, require a thorough discussion of all possible aspects of the intervention, including the possibility of connection to a ventilator or injury resulting from the aggressive nature of some resuscitation attempts. Although many patients unexpectedly have an arrest, other patients are likely to fall into a category of arrest “suspects”; their clinical condition would dictate that a discussion of DNR orders, among other possible treatment interventions, would be mandatory as soon as possible in their hospitalization. The goal is to solicit patient input and foster self-determination before the patient loses the capacity to participate in the decision-making process.


Ideally, advance discussions of DNR orders would come in the context of a more general discussion of future treatment options for the particular patient’s condition. However, it is possible that permission will be given to place a DNR order in the patient’s chart, yet the patient or the surrogate will nonetheless insist on other types of aggressive care that may seem inconsistent with the decision to consent to a DNR order. Such inconsistency may be due to a lack of mutual agreement or understanding about the goals of the treatment process; it may also be the result of a reasoned decision on the part of the patient or surrogate that some interventions are worth certain risk but others are not.


For example, a patient may be willing to undergo the toxic side effects of aggressive, experimental chemotherapy or the bruising recovery that may follow significant surgery yet be unwilling to risk the possibility of winding up dependent on a ventilator as a result of a resuscitation attempt. From the patient’s or surrogate’s perspective, such choices may not appear inconsistent, although providers would be wise to have the patient or surrogate vocally express reasons for the specific treatment choices made, to ensure full understanding and comprehension by both the patient and the provider.


Of particular concern and difficulty are surgical candidates with preexisting DNR orders in place. Such patients typically have underlying chronic or terminal illnesses that provide the basis for the patient’s previous decision to consent to a standing DNR order. However, there may be circumstances in which such patients nonetheless become candidates for surgical intervention, perhaps for palliative purposes or for reasons unconnected to their underlying disease process. In such cases, the decision as to whether the DNR order will remain in place during the surgical intervention should be thoroughly discussed by the patient, surrogate (if involved), surgeon, and anesthesiologist, if possible. It is of critical importance for patients or their surrogates to realize the distinct nature and characteristics of cardiac arrest during the perioperative period. In particular, the facts that cardiac arrest during that period is often directly linked to either the surgical or anesthetic intervention and that resuscitative interventions during such arrests have a very high success rate must be made clear to a patient who seeks surgery for certain, specific objectives. For many providers, the concept of a DNR order during surgery seems incompatible with professional and moral obligations to a patient during the surgical procedure. The often direct link between the caregiver’s actions and the patient’s arrest creates an inescapable obligation for many providers to intervene in the case of arrest.


An evolving approach to this difficult dilemma involves the protocol of “required reconsideration” whenever a patient with a DNR order in place becomes a candidate for surgery. Such an approach demands active reconsideration of the DNR decision before the surgical intervention. Such discussion must necessarily involve the patient and the patient’s surrogate, if appropriate, and should carefully review the distinct quality of perioperative arrest as well as the goals of the patient for the surgical intervention. In most cases, an accommodation can be worked out whereby a temporary suspension of the DNR order is agreed on, with specific parameters set for its reinstitution, either depending on the cause of the perioperative arrest or because of circumstances that arise after the patient’s recovery from the surgical intervention. Such a protocol should reflect the patient’s values and wishes to the extent possible. If an acceptable agreement cannot be worked out, the involved physicians may either have the option to proceed with the surgery, with a carefully delineated DNR order in place, or choose to decline to intervene, with the obligation to assist the patient in accessing other providers who may be willing to perform the operation despite the constraint of the existing DNR order.


Ultimately, when considering the applicability of a DNR order for a particular patient, one must remember that, although the decision not to resuscitate might logically be accompanied by other choices about reducing the aggressiveness of care, this does not necessarily have to be so. A patient may logically, ethically, and legally desire intensive care intervention, yet be unwilling to be resuscitated should an arrest occur. Each type of intervention should be considered in its own distinct context, and the merits of any particular intervention should be judged; an appropriate surrogate must decide on behalf of the patient, on the basis of an evaluation of what promotes the best interests of the patient.


The “Never” Competent


Decision making for patients who never possessed capacity is similar to the process described for those who congenitally have serious learning difficulties or are severely impaired or for other reasons have never had the opportunity or ability to develop a system of values and preferences that could be used to direct the course of care despite the lack of capacity. Thus “substituted judgment” cannot be rendered on their behalf because they have never possessed the original judgment. Rather, the needs and course of care for those never competent must be based on an objective determination of their specific circumstances. This decision should be based on an examination of the patient’s diagnosis and prognosis as well as the benefits and burdens associated with the various care options. The assessment of benefits and burdens includes consideration of pain, suffering, palliation, extension of life, and other determinable measures. In all cases, these considerations are limited to the benefits and burdens imposed on the individual patient. To the extent that this involves an assessment of the patient’s “quality of life,” this assessment is limited to determining whether the benefits of continued care for the individual patient outweigh the burdens of care experienced by that patient. This does not involve an assessment of the patient’s quality of life in comparison to what might be achievable by others.


As surrogates, parents cannot call on their child’s background or lifestyle to form a “substituted judgment.” The natural course of surrogate decision making is one that relies on an evaluation of the child’s best interests, and in such determinations, the parents are generally afforded significant latitude to discern the nature and course of their child’s care. When parents’ decisions clearly contrast with promoting their child’s health and medical well-being, others may be empowered to challenge the choices. For these reasons, should parental conduct appear concretely neglectful—or even abusive—of a child’s needs, grounds might be found to disempower the parents and allow others to decide on the child’s behalf. Principled choices of parents that they could assert for themselves, such as prioritizing religious faith above risk of death, are considered unacceptable when applied to the children of such individuals. Therefore, parents who subscribe to the Jehovah’s Witness faith may refuse lifesaving blood transfusions for themselves, but not on their child’s behalf. Parental empowerment does not include the ability to risk death for a child who has not yet attained the capacity to choose such a course for himself or herself.


Children who are on the cusp of capacity (ie, those approaching the murky line that separates adolescence from adulthood) may in certain circumstances be considered to possess sufficient judgment to participate in the decision-making process. Even if their consent is technically not required, from a moral perspective their concerns and desires should warrant serious attention and play a significant, if not determinative, part in the deliberation process.


Critical Care and End-of-Life Decision Making: Special Concerns


The circumstances that surround critical care and end-of-life decision making are often made more controversial and problematic for both patients and providers because of uncertainty about the moral and legal permissibility of certain actions or decisions. This is particularly true when death is a likely or even intended consequence of a choice. In addition, many philosophically based terms are sometimes interjected into discussions without universal clarity or certainty about their intended meanings. For example, comparisons such as ordinary versus extraordinary or withholding versus withdrawing sometimes conjure up misguided notions about what is or is not acceptable in the course of delivering patient care. The unnecessary inclusion of confusing terms often clouds the underlying reasons and justifications for choices made either by or on behalf of a patient.


For patients who possess decisional capacity, the choice of whether to initiate, withhold, or withdraw care is one solely within the orbit of the patient’s value system, even if the likely or intended consequence of the patient’s choice is significant harm or even death. Despite the discomfort that many providers have with this concept, it is one in accord with the moral and legal frameworks supporting patient autonomy. Thus, a patient can decline the option of life-prolonging surgery, can ask that mechanical ventilation be withheld if respiratory distress occurs, and can even ask for the withdrawal or cessation of such life-prolonging measures as dialysis, artificial nutrition, and hydration (in most jurisdictions), as long as the patient possesses the capacity and information to assess the benefits and burdens of such choices. However, in some jurisdictions, such choices may nonetheless require a legal process to carry out the request. This step may stem more from concern about injecting safeguards into such decision processes rather than any move away from fundamental moral or common law support for such patient decisions. Moreover, in most jurisdictions, such patient requests would be accorded respect even if they were transmitted through an appropriately executed living will or appointed surrogate once the patient loses decisional capacity.


Questions of whether there is any moral or legal difference between withholding and withdrawing care, whether the care involved is of an “ordinary” versus “extraordinary” nature, or whether it is acceptable to omit an action that may lead to the patient’s death but not to purposefully act in such a way that may bring about death raise concerns about word origins and their current meaning and significance in the context of care. Many of these terms, although perhaps drawing some useful distinctions in their earlier, theologic origins or perhaps pointing to areas that warrant additional attention, in and of themselves do not determine the morality or legality of the choice carried out. For example, a provider who makes the distinction that “extraordinary” care may be withheld or withdrawn, yet “ordinary” care must be initiated or continued tells us little about the precise nature of the care or its effect on the patient at issue.


Although in simpler times distinguishing what was ordinary from what was not perhaps seemed easier, the sophistication of the machinery or commonness of its application in today’s sophisticated acute care environment creates situations in which an appropriate intervention for one patient may not be acceptable or even beneficial to another similarly situated patient. In such determinations, the importance is not in what the care is labeled but rather how it affects that patient and fits into the patient’s perspective in terms of benefits versus burdens. One patient may believe the receipt of artificial nutrition via a gastrostomy tube is desirable and acceptable, whereas another may view it as extraordinarily burdensome and inconsistent with his or her view of what best suits his or her interests. Such differences between the patients in the meanings that are assigned only underscore how physicians and patients may view choices differently. A provider should not presume that a patient regards a certain course of care in a way similar to the provider.


Similarly, attempts to explain omissions or withholdings as being morally or legally permissible and actions or withdrawals as impermissible only confuse and distort the reasons and justifications that will make such choices either permissible or not. Merely because a provider decides not to initiate a process does not necessarily relieve that provider of responsibility if the outcome was one intended or foreseen. This is particularly so in the context of patient–provider relationships, in which the provider owes duties to the patient and in which a decision not to act may be as influential and responsible for patient’s outcome as any concrete activity that the provider undertakes. For example, a decision to withdraw artificial ventilation from a patient, which may or may not bring about the patient’s death, is not necessarily any less permissible or unacceptable than the choice to omit or withhold its use in the first place. Some people may believe a distinction exists between an act that is believed to cause the death of the patient and one that merely holds back a possibility from an already dying patient, but from a moral and legal point of view, arguments used to withhold treatment should be equally justifiable and binding as decisions to withdraw or cease. Judicial decisions that have addressed this matter concur that no logical distinction exists.


A decision not to initiate care can be viewed just as “causative” in terms of patient outcome as any act of withdrawing, if the outcome was one that was foreseen and could have been avoided if a different choice was made. In such circumstances the important point is not so much whether one is acting or omitting or withholding or withdrawing, but rather why one is undertaking that course and whether it can be justified in terms of the patient’s preference or the best interests of the patient as determined by an appropriate surrogate. Moreover, many commentators have clarified that decisions not to initiate care, because of fear that, once started, a treatment cannot later be stopped, may actually harm certain patient populations. Some patients might benefit from a trial of therapy, even if later on the therapy may no longer serve the patient’s interests and should be withdrawn in the name of beneficence, nonmaleficence, or patient autonomy. Not to have tried an intervention for fear of not being able to stop it lacks logic and defies the nature of providing medical care, which often means that certain risks are undertaken for certain potential benefits. One must always remember the provider’s duty to relieve pain and suffering and not to cause harm to the patient.


Nonetheless, certain actions on the part of providers and requests on the part of patients trigger additional scrutiny and other societal interests that may take priority over a pure vision of patient autonomy or provider beneficence. For example, societal interests in the sanctity of life and concern for the prevention of suicide are generally used to deny support for patient requests for suicide assistance or for provider services to purposefully administer a medication or another intervention for the purpose of causing the patient’s death (what is sometimes known as “active euthanasia”). Although much sympathy is generated for the plight of desperately ill patients seeking relief from their terminal conditions and often grand jury investigations of such matters fail to indict involved parties, most states maintain strict theoretical sanctions and legal prohibitions on provider involvement in such cases.


In two decisions the U.S. Supreme Court reiterated the traditional American condemnation of suicide and upheld the value of the individual human life by unanimously striking down two lower court decisions that had found a constitutional right to die with the aid of a doctor. Although the Court ruled that the constitution does not guarantee Americans such a right, it left the individual states with the power to determine the legality of physician-assisted death. In October of 1997, the state of Oregon enacted the Death with Dignity Act into law, becoming the first state to legalize and regulate physician-assisted death. The state’s first legal physician-assisted death took place on March 24, 1998. In 2006, the Supreme Court specifically addressed a challenge to this Oregon law in the case of Gonzales v Oregon, ruling that the United States Attorney General could not enforce the Controlled Substances Act against Oregon physicians who prescribed drugs for assisted suicide in the terminally ill, in accord with the Oregon law. The Court affirmed the ability of a state to pass legislation permitting physician-assisted death under defined circumstances.


As these events in Oregon attest, we may be witnessing a shift in societal consensus about how to prioritize values when fundamental questions about the meaning of life and death are the issue. The debate concerns the precise role of the physician and the nature of physician–patient relationship in an era of such sophisticated and often partially successful care that it is sometimes difficult to discern whether, on the whole, an intervention would benefit or burden a patient. Some argue that supporting physician involvement in the intended death of a patient destroys the essential role of the provider as healer and would create an air of uncertainty that would ultimately damage the trust that exists between patient and provider. Others believe that one essential role of the modern physician is relief of suffering, and the possibility of such physician involvement might encourage otherwise desperate patients to try one more round of therapy or intervention, comforted by the knowledge that failure would not lead to unremitting pain or unendurable misery. As the effects of Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act become clear and as more states move to enact legislation, the debate over these issues will intensify.


Although the Supreme Court found no constitutional right to physician-assisted death, the Court seemed to recognize the existence of a legitimate conflict between the needs of some terminally ill individuals and the larger interests of society. In fact, some have argued that, although patients cannot legally ask physicians to end their suffering by invoking a constitutional right to assistance in dying, patients may very well have a constitutional right to palliative care.


However, all judicial decisions that have examined cases of the withholding or withdrawal of patient care have distinguished such circumstances from cases of active euthanasia or other forms of killing or suicide. No physician who has participated in treatment decisions to withhold or withdraw care has ever been found criminally liable and responsible for the patient’s death. Cases of assisted suicide and euthanasia have been distinguished on the basis of the nature of the patient’s prognosis and clinical circumstances. Patients who refuse care or ask for its withdrawal and who will then die from their underlying conditions are not considered to be committing suicide, nor are the providers who respect such decisions considered to be assisting suicide or killing the patients.


One final distinction deserves examination: the administration of pain relief with the knowledge, though perhaps not the intent, that such medication may ultimately shorten the patient’s life or even cause the patient’s death. Under the theologic doctrine of “double effect,” such action is usually explained and justified by referring to the primary effect and intent of the action, that of relieving pain, while recognizing the possibility or even likelihood that another effect, that of the patient’s shortened life or even death, is a possible result of the action. The action is considered permissible because the intent was to relieve suffering, not to cause death.


Theoretically, in current legal climates, the knowledge that an outcome is possible—though not necessarily intended—might still lead to liability on the part of the provider. However, we know of no successful litigation against a provider for administering pain relief to a patient with significant need, even if the outcome of the relief also meant an earlier death for the patient. Justification for such actions are usually, in current climates, based on either the patient’s choice to risk death to achieve pain relief (or a similar decision by an authorized surrogate) or on the widely recognized additional role of the provider to relieve pain when possible. Such provider actions are generally distinguished in legal forums from more common examples of “active euthanasia.” In fact, many commentators have suggested that it would be unusually cruel and harmful to a patient to respect the patient’s wish that care be withdrawn or withheld, yet not provide him or her with pain medication to ease the transition to death.


Artificial Nutrition and Hydration


The use of artificial means to nourish and hydrate patients who are unable to take in food on their own has generated significant debate concerning definitions of “medical care” versus “comfort care.” For many caregivers, the question raised is whether there are any limits to patient self-determination or provider obligations in the context of the physician–patient relationship. Many believe that withholding or withdrawing “medical care” in accord with a patient’s self-determination is permissible, whereas the provision of artificial nutrition and hydration represents the intrinsic “caring” nature of human interaction and, therefore, must always be provided as a fundamental demonstration of humanity and compassion.


All courts of law that have addressed this question, including the U.S. Supreme Court, have equated the use of artificial nutrition and hydration with the use of other medical technologies and “high-tech” progenies, such as mechanical ventilation and dialysis. They have thus permitted its withholding or withdrawal in accord with the interests of patient self-determination. In the political arena, some legislatures have even made exceptions to their living will or health care proxy legislation to make allowance for such a distinction and, in some circumstances, to refuse to grant permission for patients or surrogates to have such care withheld or withdrawn. Given the sometimes passionate nature of the debate and the pluralistic nature of our society, a compromise has been reached in many instances that recognizes the right of individuals to determine the course of their care, particularly when providers feel unable to abide by such patients’ requests. This accommodation usually calls on either individual or institutional providers to disclose to patients and families, before the onset of a relationship, the perspective of the provider about this type of care.


Dilemmas in Team Decision Making: The Role of the Anesthesiologist


Dilemmas in the clinical setting may emerge not only from interaction with patients and families but also in the relationships that are forged under a system of team coverage of patient care needs. Particularly for the neurosurgical patient–whose problems may span the disciplines of neurology, surgery, and anesthesiology, among others–the collection of providers who join to meet the specific needs of an individual patient may generate interdisciplinary disputes, rivalry, or even antagonisms, which may subtly, or perhaps not so subtly, affect patient care. In this regard, the role of the consultant anesthesiologist is briefly examined as just one example.


A cardinal rule of the Hippocratic tradition, which emphasized the appropriateness of calling in consultants, was that physicians were never to disagree with their colleagues in front of the patient. In our own time, the notion of a “united front” before the laity has perhaps a greater command over medicine than in other professions, so that even when physicians are in substantial disagreement over the appropriate course, they rarely present their disagreement to the patient. Considering that the patient whose condition is serious enough to warrant consultation is often in an emotionally vulnerable position, this policy might not seem to be an unwise one.


However, modern legal analysis and case law support the independent authority and responsibility of the anesthesiologist as separate and distinct from other members of the healthcare team. Although the anesthesiologist may have little or no participation in the initial decision to intervene surgically, he or she has separate responsibility to review the patient’s condition and to obtain an independent informed consent directly from the patient or the patient’s surrogate for the use of anesthetics. In effect, the anesthesiologist must review the feasibility of anesthetic intervention for the particular patient and separately determine whether the surgery should proceed on the basis of this review. The actions or determinations of the anesthesiologist are no longer viewed as subordinate to those of the surgeon. The anesthesiologist has an independent duty to the patient, separate and apart from that of the surgeon or any other member of the health care team. Such duty carries through the entire perioperative period, until such time as the anesthesiologist discharges the patient from his or her care.


Ethical Issues in Innovative Neurosurgery: Role of the Anesthesiologist


The anesthesiologist’s specific duties toward the surgical patient, as discussed in the previous paragraph on team decision making, also extend toward patients undergoing experimental or innovative procedures. Such innovations may occur within or outside of formal clinical studies, as we explain here. Perhaps even more pressing than during standard operations, the anesthesiologist may function as an important consultant to the neurosurgeon (and perhaps, sometimes, as an advocate for the patient) by helping the neurosurgeon appropriately identify those procedures that are, in fact, experimental enough to warrant additional scrutiny and review. The additional review and patient protections required for experimental surgery may not always be apparent to the neurosurgeon, because they traditionally have not always been recognized by the surgical profession in general. Prior research has shown that surgeons generally do not readily identify those innovations that are in fact experimental or that amount to research with human subjects; they do not often submit their innovative procedures to rigorous testing in the form of (controlled) clinical trials nor their innovative surgical techniques to their institutional review boards (IREs) for prior review and monitoring.


Every day, US surgeons modify existing operations, attempting to improve their techniques and outcomes. Sometimes this modification occurs on an individual patient basis; sometimes a group of patients undergoes an innovative procedure. Sometimes a group of patients serves as a prospective or historical control. Innovative operations find their way into the professional journals and conferences as case reports, case series, or case-control studies, and a very small percentage as prospective clinical trials. But many, perhaps most of them, have one thing in common: they were performed under the heading of therapy, not of research. Whether they started out as spontaneous technique modifications necessary for a particular patient situation or as informal studies with or without protocols, most of these studies were done without prior IRB review and without specific research consent from patients. In some instances, such review and consent would have been appropriate and necessary, but uncertainties and disagreements exist among surgeons as to what constitutes routine variations on surgical techniques that require no prior approval and what are new or innovative techniques warranting IRB review and patients’ specific informed consent for an experimental procedure or a research study. This area is where the neurosurgical anesthesiologist can become an important ally of both patients and science, by helping surgeons to correctly identify those innovations that would better be performed under the heading of research. It is, therefore, of paramount importance that anesthesiologists be familiar with the definitions and regulations for human subject research and with the workings of the local IRB.


Necessary knowledge to make judgments about research and innovative practice can be found in documents from both federal agencies and professional societies. The oversight of research, innovation, and standard health care involves multiple jurisdictions: the separate states; federal agencies involved with regulation, funding, or reimbursement; professional societies; and health maintenance organizations (themselves operating under state and/or federal rules) may all be involved. Increasingly, the courts may play a significant role.


At the federal level, there are the regulations of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) and its Office of Human Research Protections (OHRP; formerly Office for Protection of Research Risks [OPRR]). DHHS has issued a Code of Federal Regulations Title 45 Part 46, on “Protection of Human Subjects.” “45 CFR 46,” or the Common Rule, so called because it has been adopted by all but 17 state agencies, provides formal definitions of research and the human subject of such research. Subpart A of 45 CFR 46, or the Federal Policy for the Protection of Human Subjects, sets out definitions and general regulations for performing research with human subjects. Research is defined as any systematic investigation designed to develop and contribute to generalizable knowledge. Human subject is defined as a living individual about whom an investigator obtains either (1) data through interaction or intervention (eg, surgery) or (2) identifiable private information. The other subparts of the document specify what additional guidelines are to be followed in case of vulnerable populations.


The Common Rule applies to all research involving humans that is conducted, supported, or otherwise subject to regulation by any federal department or agency. In other words, any institution that receives federal funding falls under and must abide by the Common Rule. This makes the DHHS ultimately responsible over all human subject research that is directly or indirectly funded by federal money. DHHS thus technically has jurisdiction over all surgical clinical research as well, as long as it is conducted in health care institutions that receive federal money. DHHS’s definitions of research and human subject are applicable in surgery as much as they are in noninterventional specialties. However, the problem lies in the fact that not all surgical research activities are defined as such and thereby escape the overview of local IRBs and, ultimately, of the Office of Human Research Protections and DHHS. Part of the reason is that surgeons do not always recognize their efforts to improve surgical technique as research (which sometimes is appropriate, sometimes not) and another part is that surgeons are not always adequately aware of the fact that DHHS definitions sometimes do apply to their innovative activities. The lack of awareness is most probably due to inadequate familiarity with the Common Rule and its definitions and regulations.


The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) gained regulatory powers to ensure the safety and effectiveness of new medical devices and medications. The law stipulates that all medical devices manufactured after 1976 are subject to an approval process and then subjected to regulatory controls according to their level of patient risk. However, unless an innovative surgical technique involves such an investigational device or an experimental drug, the FDA has no responsibility or jurisdiction over surgical research.


Local agents under the DHHS Common Rule that do have formal jurisdiction are institutional review boards (IRBs).The IRB, also known as the research ethics committee, has been the local protection mechanism for human research subjects since the latter part of the 20th century. IRBs have the authority and responsibility for approving or disapproving proposals to conduct research involving human subjects.


Voluntary guidelines have been issued by surgical societies such as the American College of Surgeons (ACS). The Committee on Emerging Surgical Technologies (CESTE) of the ACS has issued statements specifically addressing the ethical and responsible implementation of new surgical techniques and innovations.


These self-imposed guidelines for emerging surgical technologies and their application to the care of patients were formulated in 1994 and 1995. In part, they read as follows:



  • 1.

    The development of a new technology must be accompanied by a scientific assessment of safety, efficacy, and need …


  • 2.

    Diffusion into clinical practice requires appropriate education of surgeons and evaluation of their use of the new technology …


  • 3.

    Widespread application of new technologies must be continuously assessed and compared with alternative therapies to ensure appropriateness and cost-effectiveness through outcome studies.



The introduction of new technology to surgeons and the public must be done ethically in accordance with the Statement on Principles of the American College of Surgeons.


These principles require prior and continued IRB (or equivalent) review of the protocol, full description of the procedure, and informed consent of the patient. However, current guidelines remain open to individual interpretation and are not restrictive in character. Other than issuing a reprimand or expelling an unruly surgeon from the Fellowship, the ACS does not have responsibility or legal jurisdiction over the practices of its Fellows, let alone over U.S. surgeons who are not members of the ACS. As such, the Statement on Emerging Surgical Technologies is not legally binding. Other surgical organizations, such as the Society of University Surgeons (SUS), have also attempted to address the challenge of surgical innovations by offering guidance.


Until definitive guidelines or laws regulating innovative and experimental surgery have become established, it is up to individual neurosurgeons, aided by their team, including neuroanesthesiologists, to determine which procedures should be introduced as innovative practice and which should be submitted to more formal scrutiny, such as IRB review and other oversight mechanisms.


Ethics Related to Brain Death


The ancients often regarded the heart as the center of vitality, and for millennia the determination of death was the absence (or cessation) of a heartbeat. In the event of severe brain damage, either traumatic or cerebrovascular, cessation of the respiratory drive resulted in breathing cessation and rapid death by cessation of heartbeat.


In the mid-twentieth century the invention of the positive pressure ventilator led to the technical ability to maintain respiration, and, therefore, cardiac function, in the absence of much of or even all brain function. Further development and wider availability of ventilators and the evolution of intensive care units (ICUs) events led to increasing numbers of cases in which pulmonary and cardiac function were maintained in the face of devastating brain function and no chance of recovery. This led to confusion about what defined death in such cases. The determination of death had multiple ethical, legal, and medical implications, and medicine was unsettled.


In view of these uncertainties the ensuing decades saw new criteria developed to define death as brain death, not cardiac function cessation. Discussions of brain death as the redefinition of death occurred initially in France (“coma dépassé”) in the 1950s and 1960s, and the initial formal definition of “irreversible coma” in the US was made by an ad hoc committee at Harvard, which resulted in publication of the Harvard Criteria (1968). Research to determine what constituted brain death continued for years, to assure that a “brain death” definition of death ensured irreversibility of the medical state. Finland was the first nation to pass a law that death would be defined by brain death.


Neuropathological studies of subjects who had been in prolonged coma revealed that the brainstem, locus of the respiratory drive and other brainstem reflexes, was always involved significantly and extensively in cases in which brain injury had resulted in (irreversible) brain death. Thus the formal criteria to determine death evolved with specific procedures and examination requirements to assure that there were no other reasons for unresponsiveness than destruction of brain tissue. The presence of potentially reversible states such as hypothermia, residual anesthesia, or drug overdose had to be ruled out. A careful neurological examination at two time points 24 hours apart, determined by two clinicians with expertise in the examination for determination of brain death, became standards for such determination of death. Procedures that were specified for assessing absence of brainstem reflexes, such as respiratory drive, corneal reflexes, and caloric responsiveness, became standardized. Most hospitals and hospital systems reviewed and approved brain death criteria to be applied whenever the clinical situation presented itself.


Of course, not all cases of protracted coma or unconsciousness will meet criteria for brain death. The term persistent vegetative state has been used to describe cases in which there is destruction of sufficient regions of brain to preclude recovery to full consciousness, but preservation of brainstem function sufficient to enable maintenance of respiration. The public’s understanding of the difference between brain death, especially brainstem death, and a chronic vegetative state in which people do not recover consciousness is frequently confused, aided by press or lay spokespeople who are unfamiliar with the differentiation of the two terms and for whom the term “vegetable” carries a striking negative as well as disrespectful connotation. Confusion, religious dicta or opinions, and multiple legal issues have also clouded full understanding. Even the term “brain death” as somehow differentiated from “death” (when we would argue they are inseparable) is a difficult term to explain. Widespread legal cases such as that of Terri Schiavo have also led to misunderstanding and beliefs that people who are neurologically devastated will somehow awaken, given enough time, hope, and prayer. Federal, state, and hospital rules and regulation regarding brain death and criteria for determining the same have aided the clarification in individual cases as families and friends confront these issues suddenly and in a state of emotional upset. Many religious groups have established rules for dealing with the new medicine of brain death, and consultation with the chaplain or the family’s religious leader may be helpful in acceptance of facts of a case.


Neurosurgeons and neurologists (who may, along with some anesthesiologists, be part of a hospital brain death consultation team) are familiar with persistent vegetative states (PVS) and the evaluation of the unconscious patient and determining a prognosis in the case of PVS. If the cause of the unconsciousness is trauma, up to 6 months of unconsciousness is necessary to term someone as in a persistent vegetative state. If the cause is vascular (widespread ischemia with or without hemorrhage), a period of 3 months leads to a PVS diagnosis. In the case where a diagnosis of brain death is confirmed, it is legally permissible to remove a person from life support; careful documentation of the strict observance of the brain death protocols is required.


Anesthesiologists play varying but important roles in the diagnosis and care of nonconscious patients with an impending diagnosis of brain death, including ascertainment of the clearance of anesthesia if the patient was under anesthesia, participation in the determination of patient status if the patient was not under their care (brain death protocol execution requires experienced physicians who are not caring for the patient), and aiding in explaining the status of the patient to family and friends. The latter is important especially in the case where naïve, unrealistic, or religious views or suppositions oppose cessation of life support. In such cases, ethical and humane care for the family and efforts to educate them are the responsibility of the physician as well as the chaplain or clergy, members of the ethics committee, and members of the health care team.

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Sep 1, 2018 | Posted by in ANESTHESIA | Comments Off on Ethical Considerations in the Care of Patients with Neurosurgical Disease

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