What does it mean to you when you hear that someone is "brain dead"?

They aren’t capable of logical, common sense deductions, other than being actual living corpses sans normal conscious/subconscious brain activity.

Let me rephrase my question. I didn’t mean “heart and lungs”. I meant heart. The lungs are still oxygenating if they are on a ventilator, but they don’t have spontaneous respirations. So all the organs are still functioning, but the brain is not.

EEG flatline. Intubated, not breathing on their own and being fed through an NG tube. Trached. Cathed. What the crass call vegetables. Supportive care until someone makes the decision to call it.

It means they will never be functional again and time to pull the plug. Base body functions do not matter any longer.

No mental activity outside basic life support function.

It basically means “The tribe has spoken….”

Well, everything that made them what they once were is gone, with nothing to replace it. For the brain dead person I imagine it’s what it’s like to be dead.

That no scans or measurements can detect an active or conscious mind. That the brain dead person, as a person, as a living being, is gone. The more mechanical aspects of their body can continue, given the support of various machines, but nothing more.

It means that until they are unplugged, there are organs to be harvested, and nothing to look forward to beyond that.

It means the brain isn’t functioning and there are no reactions to external stimulation such as commands, lights, pain etc.

Why did you ask this Bear?

Curious because people have different opinions on what it means.

Hmm. What other kind of thing could they think it was?

@Dutchess_III You’d be surprised. “Brain death” is a neurologic criteria with very specific parameters. It means something very specific to us. Most people here are getting it more or less right.

A very good candidate organ donation.

For me, it meant My best friend would never tell another bad joke that made me laugh anyway. It meant no more road trips or late night pizza party conversations/confessions. No more bad hair dye jobs. No more bragging on her grandchildren or goofy birthday cards. My best friend of 43 years suffered a brain aneurysm one beautiful Saturday morning in February 2011. She was hospitalized but nothing could be done for her. Her brain stem finally filled completely with blood at 8:45 that night and she slipped her earthly bonds.