Sinon une autre vidéo récente que je ne crois pas avoir mentionnée sur ce forum à propos de ce que fait l'équipe de Steven Laureys, aidée de l'arsenal des techniques d'imagerie fonctionnelle. Ici communiquer avec un patient plongé dans un état "végétatif" (coma).
A voir ici :Les avancées sur le cerveau permettent aujourd'hui de communiquer avec des personnes plongées dans le coma. Des recherches de Steven Laureys en collaboration avec des scientifiques de Cambridge, publiées dans le New England Journal of Medicine. Un reportage de Daniel Bay.
top ce que fait cette équipe, vraiment...
J'en profite pour revenir sur Eben Alexander, cas qui a fait le "buzz" dernièrement + un best-seller. J'en avais causé brièvement plus haut, mais Laura Potter de l'équipe de l’hôpital qui s'est occupée de lui nous indique que :
- Contrairement à ce qui se dit (étrangement absent dans le livre best-seller), ce n'est pas sa méningite qui l'a plongé dans un "coma". Celui-ci a été provoqué par l'équipe (anesthésiques, etc) ! Quand on le réveillait, il était "conscient" quoique "délirant" mais son cerveau n'était aucunement "all-but-destroyed brain" ! Contrairement à ce que déclare Alexander dans le best-seller, il n'a pas donc vécu un coma durant 7 jours...
"We couldn't work with Eben at all, we couldn't get vital signs, he just was not able to comply. So I had to make the decision to just place him in a chemically induced coma. Really for his own safety, until we could treat him. And so I did.... I put him to sleep, if you will, and put him on life support."
After Alexander was taken from the ER to the ICU, Potter says, the doctors there administered anesthetics that kept him in the coma. The next day, she went to visit him.
"And of course he was still in an induced coma," she says. "On ventilator support. They tried to let him wake up and see what he would do, but he was in exactly the same agitated state. Even if they tried to ease up, a little bit even, on the sedation. In fact, for days, every time they would try to wean his sedation—just thrashing, trying to scream, and grabbing at his tube."
In Proof of Heaven, Alexander writes that he spent seven days in "a coma caused by a rare case of E. coli bacterial meningitis."
There is no indication in the book that it was Laura Potter, and not bacterial meningitis, that induced his coma, or that the physicians in the ICU maintained his coma in the days that followed through the use of anesthetics. Alexander also writes that during his week in the ICU he was present "in body alone," that the bacterial assault had left him with an "all-but-destroyed brain." He notes that by conventional scientific understanding, "if you don't have a working brain, you can't be conscious," and a key point of his argument for the reality of the realms he claims to have visited is that his memories could not have been hallucinations, since he didn't possess a brain capable of creating even a hallucinatory conscious experience.
I ask Potter whether the manic, agitated state that Alexander exhibited whenever they weaned him off his anesthetics during his first days of coma would meet her definition of conscious.
"Yes," she says. "CONCIOUS BUT DELIRIOUS"
Alexander a même approché Laura Potter et là, surprise :
Potter hasn't read Proof of Heaven, although she did get an advance look at a few passages. About a year after his recovery, Alexander approached Potter at a track meet that both of their sons were competing in and told her that he'd started writing a book, and that he wanted her to take a look at some parts in which he described her thought processes in the emergency room. He wanted, he said, to "make sure that you're okay with what I've done." He later e-mailed the passages to her, and when she read them, she found that they were "sort of what a doctor would think, but not exactly what was going through my head." She told him so, and according to Potter he responded that it was a matter of "artistic license," and that aspects of his book were "dramatized, so it may not be exactly how it went, but it's supposed to be interesting for readers."
One of the book's most dramatic scenes takes place just before she sends him from the ER to the ICU:
In the final moments before leaving the emergency room, and after two straight hours of guttural animal wails and groaning, I became quiet. Then, out of nowhere, I shouted three words. They were crystal clear, and heard by all the doctors and nurses present, as well as by Holley, who stood a few paces away, just on the other side of the curtain.
"God, help me!"
Everyone rushed over to the stretcher. By the time they got to me, I was completely unresponsive.
Potter has NO recollection of this incident, or of that shouted plea. What she does remember is that she had intubated Alexander more than an hour prior to his departure from the emergency room, snaking a plastic tube down his throat, through his vocal cords, and into his trachea. Could she imagine her intubated patient being able to speak at all, let alone in a crystal-clear way?
"No," she says.
Bref, sacré Alexander Méfiez-vous des contre-façons comme disait l'autre !