Sunday, December 29, 2019

Comparing The Cardiopulmonary And Total Brain Death Standards

Danesha Goble – Phi 380 – 29 September The Use of Both Standards Before taking this class I was oblivious to the apparently well-known fact that there are two standards of death. One standard is the cardiopulmonary standard, which is when the heart and lungs cease to function on their own. The second standard is the total brain death standard which is when there is complete and irreversible loss of brain function. There are people who stand in both corners of this argument but most, if not all, stand for only one standard. While the definitions of each standard seems to be clear cut, it is not, as there are some cases in which one standard will not suffice, which we will be discussing in a later paragraph. I will argue that both the†¦show more content†¦This standard only seemed important once the use of ventilators became popular in hospitals around the world. An argument made in favor of the total brain death is that people who have been determined ‘brain dead’ are great prospects for organ donatio n (Council, p. 8). As a way to support this argument it is said that because there is artificial respiration and circulation, the blood will continue to circulate throughout the body, which will in turn maintain the durability of the organs needed for surgical removal and therefore enhancing their use for their awaiting recipients (Council p. 8). There are also arguments that do not particularly agree with the total brain death standard and would assumingly prefer the cardiopulmonary standard of death. A downside pointed out by Robert D. Truog in the article â€Å"Is it Time to Abandon Brain Death?† is that as a hypothermic patient you are not able to be tested for brain death. According to Truog â€Å"the circularity of this reasoning can be clinically problematic, since hypothermic patients cannot be diagnosed as brain-dead but the absence of hypothermia is itself evidence of brain function† (Truog). While continuing to support his argument Truog mentions that  "clinicians have observed that patients who fulfill the tests for brain

Saturday, December 21, 2019

Exercise Exercise And Exercise - 1721 Words

Many times when people think of exercise it is thought of in an incredibly broad sense. There is no second thought given to whether the workouts are high or low pace, to what the level of exertion is, or the fluctuation of oxygen levels. With this being said, there are others that think of exercise in a more detailed way that live and breathe it, and are educated in the way the details of exercise works. This detailed broken down way of thinking breaks down breathing, heart rate, recovery, and many other details. When breathing and oxygen are thought of, these types of exercise are classified into aerobic and anaerobic exercise. Aerobic exercise – meaning with oxygen, is an exercise that raises the body’s need for oxygen causing a higher†¦show more content†¦When breathing during aerobic exercise the body releases carbon dioxide. As a result, during this type of exercise the body is able to expel the carbon dioxide and breathe in oxygen, resulting in the body n ot building up lactic acid in the muscles. Aerobic exercise has been shown (not proven) to be influential in extending life. However, this is contingent on how much exercise is done and for how long each day (Bushell, 2009). Aerobic exercise is easier to do anywhere. There are many different exercises that are able to be done at home and outside without the use of equipment, it is more convenient and allows for a better workout when there is not a requirement to go somewhere for a workout. Anaerobic exercise is defined as â€Å"without oxygen† (Merrium-Webster, 2015). This type of exercise is only tolerable by the body for a few minutes at a time and can take up to four minutes to recover. When exercising anaerobically the body is overexerting and using all of its energy at once. This causes a slower recovery and a longer healing time. The body is able to produce anaerobic exercise in bursts, but the energy consumed is more than the body is able to allow (Gastin, 2001). This is due to the intense nature of the workout causing these types of workouts to be shorter in total duration. When participating in anaerobic exercise lactic acid builds

Friday, December 13, 2019

The human mind is a delicate thing Free Essays

The human mind is a delicate thing. At times it can create such wonderful ideas: beautiful art, drama and works of fiction; scientific tools to enrich our lives. Yet it has a dark side, a side people prefer to keep hidden. We will write a custom essay sample on The human mind is a delicate thing or any similar topic only for you Order Now However there are events which can bring this to the surface; My name is John Frederson; this is my tale†¦ It was about ten years ago now, I was at the height of my childhood and life was wonderful. My parents were wealthy aristocrats who owned a vast estate, one that easily spanned the length of three football pitches; it was like our own private country. The garden brimmed with greenery; there were shrubs and trees everywhere, enhanced by the beautiful roses, tulips and foxgloves creating a living rainbow. If you listened close enough I’m sure the flowers sang along with the chorus instigated by the angelic doves and nightingales; the heavenly tune was comparable to that of any church choir. Now the house, or I should say mansion, we lived in was not as magical as the garden, just a large house, not quite a mansion. There were everyday appliances and creaky floorboards which added to the character of the abode; it was almost like a grandfather to me, providing comforting warmth and security. But that was nothing compared the loving embrace of my parents. Both of them hard working , honest people: they cleaned the house, tended the gardens and cooked the meals all themselves, they didn’t believe in maids or butlers. I loved them more than anything in this world, and thanks to my home tutoring; they were the only friends I had. Then one day it happened. â€Å"Miles! Come here my boy!† my father called to me, so at once I hurried over as fast as I could (he was not a man you kept waiting). â€Å"Yes daddy what do you need?† â€Å"Well your mother is away in the car so perhaps you could cycle down to the store and fetch a jar of coffee and pint of milk for me?† I wasn’t sure whether that manner of speaking was put on or if he really did speak so exaggeratedly. But I quickly dispelled these thoughts and sauntered off down the country road to the local supermarket. Looking back, I realise that I was very lucky father sent me out that day. I can’t help but wonder, did he know what would happen? I returned to the living room to find my mother and father had been murdered, slaughtered mercilessly by something not human; no one but a demon could commit such an atrocity. Their bodies were sliced up, chopped like vegetables, their heads no longer attached; this was instead all displayed upon our finest dinner service, the heads retaining their tragic expressions of fear. As if that wasn’t enough, the neurotic bastard had also drawn, in blood, a gigantic, smiling face across the wall. I honestly didn’t know how to react. I kept a tight hold of the plastic handle of the bag. My hand was ripe with sweat. My eyes gazed, unblinking, upon the scene. I look back now and wonder why I didn’t shed any tears then. Maybe my emotions were so mixed. Feelings of anger. Feelings of sorrow. All of them trying to claw their way to the surface but in vain. I didn’t express what I felt. In truth I didn’t know how to. My head was doing somersaults and there was little I could do. I just remained in the doorway, gripping the bag, all the while glaring at the gruesome scene. I regained control of my body and at once proceeded to inspect the atrocious face. Before I could get close enough, crash! The mirror above the mantelpiece fell to the floor shattering into a million fragments. Days, months and years passed yet I retained my youth. The house did not; it was still standing, but withered and decayed. I still showed no sign of expression. The feelings were getting stronger; I felt myself becoming unstable. â€Å"No! I am not going insane!† I said to myself over and over at the time, ironic really. â€Å"The important thing is to get help. Then everything will be better, much better.† Speaking aloud was one of the few comforts I enjoyed. But where could I get help? â€Å"The police think I’m dead; I can’t let them to know I’m alive. All my hard work would have been for nothing if that were the case. After-all, a dead boy cannot kill†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I was proud of having such a wonderful idea, father was proud too. Since I was declared dead in absentia I was no longer a person. As far as the law were concerned I was a corpse in the ground. I would be their last possible suspect. â€Å"It’s brilliant! Now to hunt my prey and make him suffer for what he’s done. Then I’ll be all better isn’t that right mummy?† Rummaging through dusty furniture and cobwebbed walls I searched for the perfect weapon, brutal yet stylish. Something like†¦ a sword. That would be perfect and deliciously ironic; the killer murdered by the same weapon he used. â€Å"Father did you keep any swords? In the study you say? Oh marvellous!† I skipped to my father’s old work room filled with a great sense of anticipation: I would have the key to freeing my mind from these shackles. Once I entered the room there it was, displayed upon the wall in all it’s glory, yet the blade was sullied by a deep crimson stain. I took it down and grasped it strongly in my right hand. It felt pleasant, almost warm. It offered protection and redemption, yet also wrought pain and suffering: never was there such a poetic weapon. Smiling manically but happily, I left the house. It was time to have my revenge. Rain. Wet and miserable, it shrouded Belle-View house in a haunting grey mist. â€Å"Doctor Robertson, may I have a word?† Jeanne, the carer, called out. â€Å"Yes? What do you need?† the tall old man replied, his face was covered in a fine fur; he was clinging religiously to the little hair that still occupied his head. â€Å"Patient number 33: John Frederson. He hasn’t had any medication for three whole days now and people are starting to become disturbed by his screaming and detestable giggling. Permission to tranquillise him before he hurts himself?† she seemed stressed although she would never admit it. â€Å"Yes†¦ yes go ahead,† he took a deep sigh, â€Å"if only they knew the truth.† How to cite The human mind is a delicate thing, Papers