Choosing to die

When people present an argument for the moral permissibility of euthanasia they commonly start with a case in which a person is suffering from a terminal illness and has uncontrolled pain. They say that we should have no moral reason to say that it is wrong to assist those in such a condition who choose to end their life as a means of ending their suffering. This is a combination of two arguments. One is the argument from compassion that says that we have a moral obligation to minimize suffering and that euthanasia should be used if it is the most effective way to eliminate a person’s suffering. The other is the argument from respect for autonomy that says that people should be able to make decisions about their own lives, which should include the decision to end their lives, and that their physicians should respect those decisions. It has been pointed out by many who take the position that euthanasia is wrong that if these are good arguments for the permissibility of euthanasia they should be able to stand on their own. If we take these arguments individually, they lead places we should not want to go.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the concerns that many who live with disabilities have regarding the argument from compassion. It says that it can be the right thing to do to end a person’s life when that life is no longer worth living. They are concerned that if they become unable to make their own decisions someone will decide their lives are not worth living and they will be euthanized nonvoluntarily.

A recent case of joint euthanasia by a married couple in their mid-nineties in Canada reported in the Globe and Mail shows what can happen when the argument from respect for autonomy is taken by itself. George and Shirley Brickenden, who had been married for nearly 73 years, choose to die together. They died by lethal injection while lying on their bed holding hands in the presence of their children and clergyman. There was question about whether they both met the criteria of the Canadian law, which requires that the person receiving assisted death be suffering intolerably from a grievous and irremediable condition and that death is reasonably foreseeable. Even though Shirley suffered from long-standing rheumatoid arthritis and heart problems and George had recently begun having fainting spells from a heart rhythm problem, the primary reason for choosing euthanasia was that they did not want one of them to die and leave the other behind.

If the argument from compassion is a reason to accept euthanasia then we must accept nonvoluntary euthanasia in spite of the concerns of those with disabilities. If the argument from respect for autonomy is a reason to accept euthanasia then we must accept euthanasia for any reason given by a rational person including the desire of a married couple not to have one spouse survive longer than the other.

Rather than going to these extremes it seems reasonable to accept that there are limits to the things we ought to do to diminish suffering and there are limits to how far we should go in respecting a person’s autonomy. The intentional killing of an innocent person lies outside those limits.

More on genetic medicine

The third and final installment from The Code, a series of 3 short documentaries on the internet about the origins of genetic medicine, is entitled “Selling the Code.”  This is about genetic testing to try to predict risks of diseases, among other things.  Doctors use some of this testing in clinical care and a burgeoning amount of research.  A number of companies, such as 23andMe, will, for a (not-too-high) price, sequence your genes, or at least some of them, from a cheek swab sample you send, and then give you a report of what the results are and what they might mean.  In cases where there is a simple connection between a genetic abnormality and a disease—if you have the gene, you get the disease—the approach can be very helpful.  But it’s rarely simple.  Even for known cancer-propensity genes like BRCA1 and BRCA2, there are many variants, and what they mean clinically is far from fully known.  In fact, for most of the common disease we care about, like heart disease, diabetes, and most cancers, the story is complicated indeed.  So what to do with the information is often far from obvious, and careful genetic counseling by a physician who specializes in genetic medicine is a must.

23andMe ran afoul of FDA a couple of years ago, leading to a long process that resulted in FDA acceptance of a more limited menu of testing by the company.

And some companies will sell you “genetic information” for more trivial concerns—presuming to tell you something meaningful about what fitness regimen you should pursue, or what wine you’ll like.  Caveat emptor, I suppose, although the risks are low for some of this.

AND—companies like 23andMe keep anonymized data bases of the genetic information they get for and from their customers, and sell that information to drug companies to support the latters’ research.  An individual can’t be identified in the process (at least, not readily, see my January 2013 post about “DNA research and (non)anonymity”) but the data in the aggregate is valuable to the genetic sequencing company.

These kinds of concerns—particularly what to do with an individual’s information, but also the usefulness of having genetic data on a large group of people to understand disease and help discover new treatments—are germane to an ongoing project of the Hastings Center to assess the implications of genetic testing of the whole genomes of large numbers of babies, to screen for any of several dozen genetic diseases.   Again, most of the babies will be perfectly healthy, and the yield from screening for rare conditions is low.  But people arguably have a right to know about themselves, and parents to know about their newborns.  Yet still, to what end will we use information that we don’t fully understand?  Read a good Los Angeles Times article, that overlaps some of the points in The Code’s video, and provides other useful information in quick-and-easy form, here.

Finally, I was gratified to read that a project to synthesize an entire human genome in the laboratory is being scaled back, at least for now.  Apparently, they can’t raise enough money.  I bet would-be investors aren’t convinced they could own the results and guarantee a return on their money.  I fretted about this in May of 2016 and again in July of the same year.  I encourage readers to click through and read those, as well as the concerns raised by Drew Endy of Stanford and Laurie Zoloth of Northwestern, who criticized both the effort in concept and the closed-door, invitation-only meeting at Harvard to plan it.

That was two full years ago.  A lot is going on under our noses.

Deep Brain Stimulation: the New Mood Modifier?

A patient of mine recently had a deep brain stimulator (DBS) placed to reduce her severe tremors. The stimulator has worked very well to almost eliminate her tremor but has resulted in a side effect that causes her personality to be more impulsive. Her husband notices this more than the patient. Both agree that the reduction in the tremor outweigh the change in her personality though her husband has indicated that her personality change has been more than he imagined when they were initially considering the surgery. He has commented that if her new impulsivity were any stronger, he might be inclined to reverse the process. As one might imagine, the patient sees no problem with the impulsivity and remains extremely pleased with her newfound lack of tremor.

I share the preceding clinical vignette as backdrop to a recent article in Nature describing research funded by the US military’s research agency, The Defense Advance Research Projects Agency (DARPA – the same group that sponsored the early development of the Internet), where they are looking into modifying neural activity with the goal to alter mood, and eventually cure mental health disorders. Using patients that already have DBS stimulators in place for treatment of epilepsy or movement disorders such as Parkinson’s Disease, scientists are developing algorithms that “decode” a person’s changing mood. Edward Chang, a neuroscientist at the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF) believe they have a preliminary “mood map” and further believe that they can use the DBS stimulators to stimulate the brain and modify the local brain activity to alter the patient’s mood. The UCSF group describes this as a “closed-loop” (using the stimulator to both receive and then stimulate the brain). Chang further admits that they have already “tested some closed-loop stimulation in people, but declined to provide details because the work is preliminary.”

If scientists are on the verge of changing your mood, might they not also be on the verge of creating your urges? Professor Laura Cabrera, a neuroethicist, and Professor Jennifer Carter-Johnson, a lawyer, both at Michigan State University, argue we need to begin worrying about that possibility and further that we need to begin considering who is responsible for those new urges, particularly if those urges result in actions that cause harm against other people. The article does a masterful job of the ethical-legal ramifications of just what happens when your DBS causes you to swerve your car into a crowd of people – Is it your fault or did your DBS make you do it?

Returning to my patient, the alteration in her behavior is an unwanted but not a completely surprising result of her DBS to treat her movement disorder. Despite the informed consent, her husband was not prepared for the change in her personality. The treatment to correct my patient’s movement disorder (a good thing) has altered my patient’s personality (a not-so-good thing). My patient’s husband might even argue that his wife is almost a different person post DBS.

When we modify the brain in these experiments, we are intentionally modifying behavior but also risk modifying the person’s actual identity – the “who we are”. As the DARPA experiments proceed and cascade into spin-off research arms, we need to be very clear with patient-subjects in current and future informed consents that the patient who signs the consent may end up very different from the patient who completes the experiment. How much difference in behavior or urges should we tolerate? Could the changes be significant enough that they are considered a new person by their family and friends?

And if that is true, who should consent to the experiment?

Euthanasia and those who live with disabilities

This week the students in the medical ethics class that I teach are looking at the issue of euthanasia and physician assisted suicide. An article in The Catholic Register reminded me of the important role that people with disabilities have played in the public discussion of euthanasia. The article discusses the concerns that Taylor Hyatt, policy analyst and outreach coordinator for the disability rights group Not Dead Yet, has expressed about assisted suicide in Canada. She is concerned about proposals being considered to expand the Canadian Medical Aid in Dying (MAiD) law “to include mature minors, allow advanced directives for those with a dementia diagnosis, and allow MAiD for those with psychological suffering without the necessity of death being reasonably foreseeable.” She also expressed concern that under the present law no one is looking to see if those seeking assisted death have unmet accessibility needs that are pressuring them to end their lives.

From the earliest discussions about legalizing physician assisted suicide in the US, disability rights groups have played a significant role. They recognize that with any form of euthanasia the physician who chooses to assist in causing another person’s death must agree that the person’s life is not worth living. If we say that it is ever permissible for one person to say that another person’s life is not worth living, then it opens the door to people thinking that a the life of a person with disability is not worth living and that it would be best if that person’s life would be ended. Thus, even fully voluntary euthanasia puts those who are disabled at risk for nonvoluntary euthanasia. Actually many more than those with disabilities are at risk, but the marginalization that they experience makes them more sensitive to the risk.

We should listen to them.

New Moral Anesthesia for Abortion

“Is it possible, once again, to hold in tension seemingly opposite ideas about abortion?” This is the main question asked by Dr. Lisa Harris in the lead editorial in the April 12, 2018 NEJM. Her concern is that in her view, since the creation in January of the new Conscience and Religious Freedom division at HHS, subsequent comments by HHS leaders “suggest that they are uninterested in discrimination against health care providers whose consciences compel them to provide care, and uninterested in injuries to patients caused by care refusals.” (emphasis hers) She wants us to return to the time of the 1973 Church Amendment when she argues that lawmakers reached common ground protecting conscious rights of healthcare workers, then holding what she describes as a tension “between abortion as a new fundamental right for U.S. women and the reality that some healthcare providers could not in good conscience participate in it.” Our inability to maintain that tension, she believes, will continue to result in our present extreme divisiveness on the abortion issue. So, specifically, per Dr. Harris: “Can we understand abortion as both something that ‘stops a beating heart’ and a fundamental right, rather than insisting it’s only one or the other?”

Trying to understand abortion as both is the problem. Cognitive dissonance is the word Dr. Harris was looking for, and she is correct that something was needed immediately after Roe v. Wade to ease that dissonance.

With Roe v. Wade in early 1973, the Supreme Court determined that the Constitution prohibits the government from stopping one individual from ending the life of a second individual who was not actively ending the life of the first individual. No one was honestly claiming that we needed Roe v. Wade to allow physicians to perform an abortion to save the life of the mother if the baby/pregnancy was immediately threatening the life of that mother. The Church Amendment, which passed shortly after Roe v. Wade became law, essentially said that no one will be forced to perform an abortion or be discriminated against if they did so – effectively permitting an individual to follow one’s own religious beliefs or moral convictions on the matter. Abortion became just a personal religious or private moral thing.

I believe that the Church Amendment was the necessary moral anesthesia that allowed the Supreme Court to surgically join the opposite ideas that an abortion is both a fundamental right and an act that “stops a beating heart”, the amendment effectively numbing our ethical faculties to what Roe v. Wade would now permit.

Had pro-choice supporters simply adhered to the Church Amendment, there would not have been growing broad demand by pro-life groups for the proposed Conscience Protection Act of 2017 (H.R. 644). I suspect most pro-life supporters hope the creation of the new HHS division will correct the concerns addressed in the failed bill.

I worry the new HHS division will be the new moral anesthesia to lull us into contentment with securing arguably necessary conscience protections at the cost of leaving Roe v. Wade intact.

In his recent blog post, The Child I Want, Neil Skjoldal nicely articulated the dehumanization that results when we create a fundamental right to “stop a beating heart.” But we have known that this would happen since that right was first established. Almost identical concepts were discussed during oral arguments of Roe v. Wade, such as the following exchange between Justice Potter Stewart and attorney Sarah Weddington, who represented Roe. (see LINK for transcript or audio of the second reargument Oct 11, 1972, approximately one-third of the way through):

Potter Stewart: Well, if it were established that an unborn fetus is a person within the protection of the Fourteenth Amendment, you would have almost an impossible case here, would you not?

Sarah R. Weddington: I would have a very difficult case. [Laughter]

Potter Stewart: You certainly would because you’d have the same kind of thing you’d have to say that this would be the equivalent to after the child was born.

Sarah R. Weddington That’s right.

Potter Stewart: If the mother thought that it bothered her health having the child around, she could have it killed. Isn’t that correct?

Sarah R. Weddington: That’s correct.

So, to answer Dr. Harris: “Can we understand abortion as both something that ‘stops a beating heart’ and a fundamental right, rather than insisting it’s only one or the other?” — I certainly hope not.

The Ethics of Pet Cloning

Anyone who passes through a grocery checkout line on a weekly basis is unable to remain ignorant of the latest thoughts and insights from Hollywood. With ethical pronouncements from Hollywood, I usually find it reliable to point my moral compass in the opposite direction, at least until I have time to further evaluate the issue. Such was the case with a recent National Enquirer scoop that Barbara Streisand has cloned her now deceased Coton du Tulear dog Samantha, producing two offspring, Miss Violet and Miss Scarlett. The fact that she cloned her pet was interesting in its own right, as I did not realize this process was commercially available to the general (wealthy) public. Perhaps more interesting was the backlash Ms Streisand has experienced from Twitter (generally) and PETA (specifically) largely on ethical grounds. More on this in a moment. The Streisand scoop actually should be credited to a Variety interview and the initial ethical discussion to both the New York Times and Fox News (offering, no surprise, differing vantage points)

Sone of Streisand’s harshest criticism came from Twitter under the hashtag #adoptdontclone. One argument against the pet cloning process was that it was unjust; given the fact that only rich people could afford the price tag, which according the NYT link above ranged around $50,000. Another argument against the process was to remind Ms. Streisand that Miss Violet and Miss Scarlett were not the same as the original Samantha, even though they might look or even act in a manner that might remind Streisand of her dear departed. These arguments touched on the very themes of genetic determinism vs. environmental nurture, admittedly in a rudimentary way. The PETA arguments described the pain and suffering they claimed that the female dogs experienced during the required egg harvesting needed for the cloning process to be successful, arguments eerily similar to risks women experience related to egg harvesting for some IVF procedures.

The strongest or, at least, most popular argument leveled at Ms. Streisand was that cloning her pet eliminated the possibility that she might adopt an already existing puppy, who very much needed a loving pet owner to provide that puppy a better future. While no one presently is making a similar argument against human cloning in favor of human adoption (since human cloning is presently illegal), similar arguments have been made with IVF vs. adoption.

The point of all this was to appreciate some of the ethical arguments by the lay press presently used against pet cloning by Hollywood’s elite and wonder whether, if and when human cloning is accessible to the general (wealthy) public in the future, similar arguments will resurface to protect the humans involved then with the same loud voice used to protect the animals now.

The Child I Want

I appreciate the honesty of Washington Post columnist Ruth Marcus. Watching various states attempt to enact more and more restrictions on abortion, she wrote of her strong personal feelings regarding the importance of keeping abortion legal.

The headline certainly grabs our attention: “I would’ve aborted a fetus with Down syndrome. Women need that right.” Noting how cute the new “Gerber Baby” is, Marcus reminds her readers that abortion is a choice, and that her choice would be to abort a 2nd trimester pregnancy, if it were determined that the child had Down syndrome. After acknowledging that parents have the right not to abort, she states, “That was not the child I wanted.”

At the end of the article, Marcus seems to back away from the implications of her beliefs. What if, instead of Down syndrome, the child was to have nearsightedness or was destined to be short instead of tall? “There are creepy, eugenic aspects of the new technology that call for vigorous public debate. But in the end, the Constitution mandates — and a proper understanding of the rights of the individual against those of the state underscores — that these excruciating choices be left to individual women, not to government officials who believe they know best.”

Clearly, Marcus does not really want debate. She wants the child she wants.

More thought has got to be given to these matters. Within a week’s time, another Washington Post columnist, George Will, wrote a strong response. Instead of emphasizing the importance of personal choice, he cites a chilling statistic. Only three children with Down syndrome were born in Iceland in 2009, because of the nation’s strong emphasis on pre-natal testing and equally strong push to terminate unwanted pregnancies.

In describing an improved life for a Down syndrome person, Will notes that just a few decades ago, they “. . . were institutionalized or otherwise isolated, denied education and other stimulation, and generally not treated as people.” And here lies the issue which confronts us all: when we decide who to treat as people, we dehumanize all.

 

Toward true public engagement about gene editing

The March 22, 2018 edition of Nature includes two thoughtful, helpful commentaries about improving the public dialogue around “bleeding edge” biotechnologies.  In this case, the example is gene editing, of which one commentator, Simon Burall from the U.K., says, “Like artificial intelligence, gene editing could radically alter almost every domain of life.”  Burall’s piece, “Don’t wait for an outcry about gene editing,” can be found here.  The other commentary, “A global observatory for gene editing,” by Harvard’s Sheila Jasanoff and J. Benjamin Hurlbut from Arizona State, can be found here, and an umbrella editorial from the editors of Nature is here.  All are open-access and all are worth reading by any citizen who would like to be informed at even a general level about the ethical discussions of biotechnology.

The three share this tone: more inclusiveness, more humility on the part of scientists, and willingness to have difficult conversations are called for—and have been generally lacking in past efforts to engage the public in discussion of the implications of new biotechnologies.  In the view of Jasanoff and Hurlbut, even the much-admired 1975 Asilomar conference that established boundaries on recombinant DNA research and its applications, was too narrow, focusing on technically-definable risks and benefits but not taking time to reflect more deeply on the ultimate ramifications of what the scientists were doing.  The experts dominate, and lecture—gently, but clearly—the “laity.”  This can create a sort of foregone-conclusion effect: getting people comfortable with the research agenda and the scientists’ and technologists’ (including industry players’) goals is the true point.  The possibility that some work simply should not be pursued for a while may scarcely be expressed, much less heeded.  As Hans Jonas said in a reflection about Asilomar, “Scientific inquiry demands untrammeled freedom for itself.”

Burall, Jasanoff, and Hurlbut seem to be saying, repent from that, as it were.  Don’t just have a panel of a dozen scientists or so meet for a single seminar or webinar with a dozen or so non-scientists (with, I might add, the token clergyperson).  Create a clearinghouse for a wide range of views on what gene editing really might mean, and how humans should respond.  Open the dialogue to a large number, not just a few, non-scientists from a wide range of perspectives.  Pay attention to cultures other than the developed West—especially the global South.  Perhaps start with seminars that are cooperatively organized by several groups representing different interests or stakeholders, but don’t stop there—create a platform for many, many people to weigh in.  And so on.

They don’t suggest it will be easy.  And we do have a sort of clearinghouse already—I call it the Internet.  And we’d want to be sure—contra John Rawls—that viewpoints (yes, I’m thinking of God-centered perspectives) are not disqualified from the outset as violating the terms of the discussion.  And, perhaps most importantly, what threshold of public awareness/understanding/agreement would be insisted upon to ground public policy?  Surely a simple popular majority would be suspect, but unanimity—achievable in smaller groups, with difficulty—would be impossible.  And concerns about “fake news” or populist tendencies run amok (the “angry villagers”) would be unavoidable.

But, as Jasanoff and Hurlbut say, “In current bioethical debates, there is a tendency to fall back on the framings that those at the frontiers of research find most straightforward and digestible…[debate must not be limited by] the premise that, until the technical capability does exist, it is not necessary to address difficult questions about whether [some] interventions are desirable…Profound and long-standing traditions of moral reflection risk being excluded when they do not conform to Western ideas of academic bioethics.”

Bingo and amen.  How to make it happen, I am not sure.  Jasanoff and Hurlbut say they are trying to get beyond binary arguments about the permissibility or impermissibility of germline genome editing, for example.  Still, I don’t see how the “cosmopolitan” public reflection they advocate can go on without agreeing on something like a fairly firm moratorium—a provisional “presumption to forebear,” as I like to put it—while the conversation proceeds.  And hey, we’re the Anglosphere.  We’re dynamic, innovative, progressive, pragmatic, visionary.  We don’t do moratoria.   Moratoria are for those Continental European fraidy-cats.  Then again, these writers are seeking a truly global discussion.  And past agreement by assembled nation-states appears to have at least slowed down things like chemical and biological munitions (recent events in Syria notwithstanding).

These authors are doing us a service with their reflections.  Read their articles, give them a careful hearing—and note that their email addresses are provided at the end.  Maybe I’ll write to them.

The death and resurrection of Jesus and how we view death

This is the week when we who are Christians particularly focus on the death and resurrection of Jesus. As I have been reflecting on this I have been thinking about how Jesus’ death and resurrection impact how I think about bioethics. I think that the largest impact is on how I think about death.

Whether we realize it or not, much of bioethics is impacted by how we view death. This is most clear when we are thinking about end-of-life issues. Some of the most difficult medical decisions that people must make are related to how aggressively we should try to prevent death and when we should accept the inevitability of death and focus on palliative care. However, it also impacts beginning of life and reproductive issues, because many times those issues are significantly impacted by our understanding of who has the type of moral status that says we should not cause the death of that person. It is also the foundation of transhumanist desires to go beyond the limitations of human mortality.

How does Jesus’ death impact how I think about death? It reminds me that death is the result of evil and may involve deep suffering. It was not a part of God’s original good creation but is a part of the brokenness of that creation caused by human sin. It reminds me that we have a God who understands what it means to suffer and die and can truly love us with a compassionate love. Jesus’ resurrection reminds me that he not on the understands death but has defeated it. We who follow him can know that death is not the end. We have a hope that goes beyond death that changes how we think about it.

Understanding God’s compassionate love for us can help us live with a deeper compassion for those around us. Having a hope that goes beyond death and an understanding that there can be meaning in suffering allows us to face the reality of our own deaths without fear. When we are at peace with our own death we can better help others, who are dying. We can understand that death itself is evil and that it is good for us to develop medical treatments and administer them to people in order to prevent death, but also understand that preventing death is not our ultimate goal because we can have a relationship with God that is eternal.

The Bioethics of a Modern Death Mask

By the time you read this, a company called Nectome will have pitched its business plan to investors at Y Combinator as a company who has designed a technology called Aldehyde-Stabilized Cryopreservation to preserve all of your connectome, which is all of your brain’s interconnected synapses. Doing this, they argue, can preserve your memories, allowing the company to effectively “upload your mind”. One problem with the technology is that the process is 100% fatal as you have to die during the cryopreservation process to make an accurate connectome.

Oddly, the fact that you have to die for the process to be successful is not considered a deal breaker. Twenty-five individuals have already plunked down the $10,000 deposit to be first on the list to eventually have their brains perfectly preserved in this manner. The process also depends upon future scientists being able to figure out a way to use these perfectly embalmed brains to “reboot” their consciousness. Never mind that no one presently knows how that rebooting process might work or whether the present process captures everything that will be necessary some 100 years in the future when the complete technology will hopefully actually exist. Presumably, smarter people will have all of that detail eventually worked out. What is important at present, particularly if you have a terminal disease, is to preserve your brain so you can be rebooted in the future. A new state law in California called the “End of Life Option Act” makes the application of this novel technology legal for terminal patients (at least as best as can be determined as the legal details have yet to be tested in court). A very nice overview of this new technology and the new company itself may be found in the latest Technology Review article by Antonio Regalado.

There are scientists, such as neuroscientist Ken Hayworth, president of the Brain Preservation Foundation, who believe that a connectome map could provide the basis for reconstituting a person’s consciousness. At its base, this theory assumes that the physical brain is not only the necessary but presumably the sufficient source of consciousness. Capturing the synapse pattern would certainly be essential for recreating the hardware (and perhaps the software) of the brain to restart one’s electrical pattern leading presumably to rebooting one’s consciousness.

I have a couple of ethical problems with this technology, though I am sure there are more. The most obvious is that the process hastens the death of the individual, regardless of their terminal illness. The person will not be dying from their illness but from the cryopreservation process. This technology would not be legally possible without the new California law that will ascribe the death to the terminal illness rather than Nectome’s cryopreservation process, presumably shielding Nectome from product liability suits. Only in California could a terminal patient’s family sue the manufacturer of their vehicle for a malfunction in the brakes that resulted in their loved one’s premature death as they were in the process of driving their loved one to a Nectome facility to die by brain cryopreservation with the hope that the loved one could live again.

Another ethical problem is the transhumanist lure of a brain being rebooted, effectively allowing immortality of one’s consciousness. Aside from the presently unproven science of the rebooting process, who would be the recipient of the successful rebooted consciousness? By that I mean “who” (or what) is regaining consciousness? If the physical brain is the basis for consciousness, and recreating a new but exactly reproduced connectome is the thing that becomes conscious, would it really be you becoming conscious, or someone or something else entirely? Who really enjoys the rebooted memories? What if it is not really you that is being rebooted but someone or something else with your life’s memories? This would be the worst “bait and switch” advertising scam ever devised! What till the FTC begins filling suit. But seriously, are we just our consciousness or a necessary combination of physical mind and body, or a necessary combination of spiritual soul and physical mind/body? What exactly are we? Why do we think we can achieve immortality in the first place? If we can, is the Nectome method the right way of going about this process?

The Christian faith argues for a different process, but uses language such as “dying to self” and being “born again”, which sound similar to Nectome but are indeed very different. Per Nectome, if you die, using our cryopreservation technology, you can live again by regaining your consciousness in the future. The biblical concepts of being born again and dying to self reflects a believer having faith in the salvation offered by Christ’s death on the cross and subsequently humbly subjecting oneself to God’s will rather than one’s own will for the future, both temporally on earth and eternally in heaven.

I recommend the Christian process of being born again rather than the modern death mask soon to be offered by Nectome.