Angels Demons Chapter 121-125

121 The camerlegno erupted through the doors of St. Peter's Basilica at exactly 11:56 P.M. He staggered into the dazzling glare of the world spotlight, carrying the antimatter before him like some sort of numinous offering. Through burning eyes he could see his own form, half-naked and wounded, towering like a giant on the media screens around the square. The roar that went up from the crowd in St. Peter's Square was like none the camerlegno had ever heard – crying, screaming, chanting, praying†¦ a mix of veneration and terror. Deliver us from evil, he whispered. He felt totally depleted from his race out of the Necropolis. It had almost ended in disaster. Robert Langdon and Vittoria Vetra had wanted to intercept him, to throw the canister back into its subterranean hiding place, to run outside for cover. Blind fools! The camerlegno realized now, with fearful clarity, that on any other night, he would never have won the race. Tonight, however, God again had been with him. Robert Langdon, on the verge of overtaking the camerlegno, had been grabbed by Chartrand, ever trusting and dutiful to the camerlegno's demands for faith. The reporters, of course, were spellbound and lugging too much equipment to interfere. The Lord works in mysterious ways. The camerlegno could hear the others behind him now†¦ see them on the screens, closing in. Mustering the last of his physical strength, he raised the antimatter high over his head. Then, throwing back his bare shoulders in an act of defiance to the Illuminati brand on his chest, he dashed down the stairs. There was one final act. Godspeed, he thought. Godspeed. Four minutes†¦ Langdon could barely see as he burst out of the basilica. Again the sea of media lights bore into his retinas. All he could make out was the murky outline of the camerlegno, directly ahead of him, running down the stairs. For an instant, refulgent in his halo of media lights, the camerlegno looked celestial, like some kind of modern deity. His cassock was at his waist like a shroud. His body was scarred and wounded by the hands of his enemies, and still he endured. The camerlegno ran on, standing tall, calling out to the world to have faith, running toward the masses carrying this weapon of destruction. Langdon ran down the stairs after him. What is he doing? He will kill them all! â€Å"Satan's work,† the camerlegno screamed, â€Å"has no place in the House of God!† He ran on toward a now terrified crowd. â€Å"Father!† Langdon screamed, behind him. â€Å"There's nowhere to go!† â€Å"Look to the heavens! We forget to look to the heavens!† In that moment, as Langdon saw where the camerlegno was headed, the glorious truth came flooding all around him. Although Langdon could not see it on account of the lights, he knew their salvation was directly overhead. A star-filled Italian sky. The escape route. The helicopter the camerlegno had summoned to take him to the hospital sat dead ahead, pilot already in the cockpit, blades already humming in neutral. As the camerlegno ran toward it, Langdon felt a sudden overwhelming exhilaration. The thoughts that tore through Langdon's mind came as a torrent†¦ First he pictured the wide-open expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. How far was it? Five miles? Ten? He knew the beach at Fiumocino was only about seven minutes by train. But by helicopter, 200 miles an hour, no stops†¦ If they could fly the canister far enough out to sea, and drop it†¦ There were other options too, he realized, feeling almost weightless as he ran. La Cava Romana! The marble quarries north of the city were less than three miles away. How large were they? Two square miles? Certainly they were deserted at this hour! Dropping the canister there†¦ â€Å"Everyone back!† the camerlegno yelled. His chest ached as he ran. â€Å"Get away! Now!† The Swiss Guard standing around the chopper stood slack-jawed as the camerlegno approached them. â€Å"Back!† the priest screamed. The guards moved back. With the entire world watching in wonder, the camerlegno ran around the chopper to the pilot's door and yanked it open. â€Å"Out, son! Now!† The guard jumped out. The camerlegno looked at the high cockpit seat and knew that in his exhausted state, he would need both hands to pull himself up. He turned to the pilot, trembling beside him, and thrust the canister into his hands. â€Å"Hold this. Hand it back when I'm in.† As the camerlegno pulled himself up, he could hear Robert Langdon yelling excitedly, running toward the craft. Now you understand, the camerlegno thought. Now you have faith! The camerlegno pulled himself up into the cockpit, adjusted a few familiar levers, and then turned back to his window for the canister. But the guard to whom he had given the canister stood empty-handed. â€Å"He took it!† the guard yelled. The camerlegno felt his heart seize. â€Å"Who!† The guard pointed. â€Å"Him!† Robert Langdon was surprised by how heavy the canister was. He ran to the other side of the chopper and jumped in the rear compartment where he and Vittoria had sat only hours ago. He left the door open and buckled himself in. Then he yelled to the camerlegno in the front seat. â€Å"Fly, Father!† The camerlegno craned back at Langdon, his face bloodless with dread. â€Å"What are you doing!† â€Å"You fly! I'll throw!† Langdon barked. â€Å"There's no time! Just fly the blessed chopper!† The camerlegno seemed momentarily paralyzed, the media lights glaring through the cockpit darkening the creases in his face. â€Å"I can do this alone,† he whispered. â€Å"I am supposed to do this alone.† Langdon wasn't listening. Fly! he heard himself screaming. Now! I'm here to help you! Langdon looked down at the canister and felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw the numbers. â€Å"Three minutes, Father! Three!† The number seemed to stun the camerlegno back to sobriety. Without hesitation, he turned back to the controls. With a grinding roar, the helicopter lifted off. Through a swirl of dust, Langdon could see Vittoria running toward the chopper. Their eyes met, and then she dropped away like a sinking stone. 122 Inside the chopper, the whine of the engines and the gale from the open door assaulted Langdon's senses with a deafening chaos. He steadied himself against the magnified drag of gravity as the camerlegno accelerated the craft straight up. The glow of St. Peter's Square shrank beneath them until it was an amorphous glowing ellipse radiating in a sea of city lights. The antimatter canister felt like deadweight in Langdon's hands. He held tighter, his palms slick now with sweat and blood. Inside the trap, the globule of antimatter hovered calmly, pulsing red in the glow of the LED countdown clock. â€Å"Two minutes!† Langdon yelled, wondering where the camerlegno intended to drop the canister. The city lights beneath them spread out in all directions. In the distance to the west, Langdon could see the twinkling delineation of the Mediterranean coast – a jagged border of luminescence beyond which spread an endless dark expanse of nothingness. The sea looked farther now than Langdon had imagined. Moreover, the concentration of lights at the coast was a stark reminder that even far out at sea an explosion might have devastating effects. Langdon had not even considered the effects of a ten-kiloton tidal wave hitting the coast. When Langdon turned and looked straight ahead through the cockpit window, he was more hopeful. Directly in front of them, the rolling shadows of the Roman foothills loomed in the night. The hills were spotted with lights – the villas of the very wealthy – but a mile or so north, the hills grew dark. There were no lights at all – just a huge pocket of blackness. Nothing. The quarries! Langdon thought. La Cava Romana! Staring intently at the barren pocket of land, Langdon sensed that it was plenty large enough. It seemed close, too. Much closer than the ocean. Excitement surged through him. This was obviously where the camerlegno planned to take the antimatter! The chopper was pointing directly toward it! The quarries! Oddly, however, as the engines strained louder and the chopper hurtled through the air, Langdon could see that the quarries were not getting any closer. Bewildered, he shot a glance out the side door to get his bearings. What he saw doused his excitement in a wave of panic. Directly beneath them, thousands of feet straight down, glowed the media lights in St. Peter's Square. We're still over the Vatican! â€Å"Camerlegno!† Langdon choked. â€Å"Go forward! We're high enough! You've got to start moving forward! We can't drop the canister back over Vatican City!† The camerlegno did not reply. He appeared to be concentrating on flying the craft. â€Å"We've got less than two minutes!† Langdon shouted, holding up the canister. â€Å"I can see them! La Cava Romana! A couple of miles north! We don't have – â€Å" â€Å"No,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"It's far too dangerous. I'm sorry.† As the chopper continued to claw heavenward, the camerlegno turned and gave Langdon a mournful smile. â€Å"I wish you had not come, my friend. You have made the ultimate sacrifice.† Langdon looked in the camerlegno's exhausted eyes and suddenly understood. His blood turned to ice. â€Å"But†¦ there must be somewhere we can go!† â€Å"Up,† the camerlegno replied, his voice resigned. â€Å"It's the only guarantee.† Langdon could barely think. He had entirely misinterpreted the camerlegno's plan. Look to the heavens! Heaven, Langdon now realized, was literally where he was headed. The camerlegno had never intended to drop the antimatter. He was simply getting it as far away from Vatican City as humanly possible. This was a one-way trip. 123 In St. Peter's Square, Vittoria Vetra stared upward. The helicopter was a speck now, the media lights no longer reaching it. Even the pounding of the rotors had faded to a distant hum. It seemed, in that instant, that the entire world was focused upward, silenced in anticipation, necks craned to the heavens†¦ all peoples, all faiths†¦ all hearts beating as one. Vittoria's emotions were a cyclone of twisting agonies. As the helicopter disappeared from sight, she pictured Robert's face, rising above her. What had he been thinking? Didn't he understand? Around the square, television cameras probed the darkness, waiting. A sea of faces stared heavenward, united in a silent countdown. The media screens all flickered the same tranquil scene†¦ a Roman sky illuminated with brilliant stars. Vittoria felt the tears begin to well. Behind her on the marble escarpment, 161 cardinals stared up in silent awe. Some folded their hands in prayer. Most stood motionless, transfixed. Some wept. The seconds ticked past. In homes, bars, businesses, airports, hospitals around the world, souls were joined in universal witness. Men and women locked hands. Others held their children. Time seemed to hover in limbo, souls suspended in unison. Then, cruelly, the bells of St. Peter's began to toll. Vittoria let the tears come. Then†¦ with the whole world watching†¦ time ran out. The dead silence of the event was the most terrifying of all. High above Vatican City, a pinpoint of light appeared in the sky. For a fleeting instant, a new heavenly body had been born†¦ a speck of light as pure and white as anyone had ever seen. Then it happened. A flash. The point billowed, as if feeding on itself, unraveling across the sky in a dilating radius of blinding white. It shot out in all directions, accelerating with incomprehensible speed, gobbling up the dark. As the sphere of light grew, it intensified, like a burgeoning fiend preparing to consume the entire sky. It raced downward, toward them, picking up speed. Blinded, the multitudes of starkly lit human faces gasped as one, shielding their eyes, crying out in strangled fear. As the light roared out in all directions, the unimaginable occurred. As if bound by God's own will, the surging radius seemed to hit a wall. It was as if the explosion were contained somehow in a giant glass sphere. The light rebounded inward, sharpening, rippling across itself. The wave appeared to have reached a predetermined diameter and hovered there. For that instant, a perfect and silent sphere of light glowed over Rome. Night had become day. Then it hit. The concussion was deep and hollow – a thunderous shock wave from above. It descended on them like the wrath of hell, shaking the granite foundation of Vatican City, knocking the breath out of people's lungs, sending others stumbling backward. The reverberation circled the colonnade, followed by a sudden torrent of warm air. The wind tore through the square, letting out a sepulchral moan as it whistled through the columns and buffeted the walls. Dust swirled overhead as people huddled†¦ witnesses to Armageddon. Then, as fast as it appeared, the sphere imploded, sucking back in on itself, crushing inward to the tiny point of light from which it had come. 124 Never before had so many been so silent. The faces in St. Peter's Square, one by one, averted their eyes from the darkening sky and turned downward, each person in his or her own private moment of wonder. The media lights followed suit, dropping their beams back to earth as if out of reverence for the blackness now settling upon them. It seemed for a moment the entire world was bowing its head in unison. Cardinal Mortati knelt to pray, and the other cardinals joined him. The Swiss Guard lowered their long swords and stood numb. No one spoke. No one moved. Everywhere, hearts shuddered with spontaneous emotion. Bereavement. Fear. Wonder. Belief. And a dread-filled respect for the new and awesome power they had just witnessed. Vittoria Vetra stood trembling at the foot of the basilica's sweeping stairs. She closed her eyes. Through the tempest of emotions now coursing through her blood, a single word tolled like a distant bell. Pristine. Cruel. She forced it away. And yet the word echoed. Again she drove it back. The pain was too great. She tried to lose herself in the images that blazed in other's minds†¦ antimatter's mind-boggling power†¦ the Vatican's deliverance†¦ the camerlegno†¦ feats of bravery†¦ miracles†¦ selflessness. And still the word echoed†¦ tolling through the chaos with a stinging loneliness. Robert. He had come for her at Castle St. Angelo. He had saved her. And now he had been destroyed by her creation. As Cardinal Mortati prayed, he wondered if he too would hear God's voice as the camerlegno had. Does one need to believe in miracles to experience them? Mortati was a modern man in an ancient faith. Miracles had never played a part in his belief. Certainly his faith spoke of miracles†¦ bleeding palms, ascensions from the dead, imprints on shrouds†¦ and yet, Mortati's rational mind had always justified these accounts as part of the myth. They were simply the result of man's greatest weakness – his need for proof. Miracles were nothing but stories we all clung to because we wished they were true. And yet†¦ Am I so modern that I cannot accept what my eyes have just witnessed? It was a miracle, was it not? Yes! God, with a few whispered words in the camerlegno's ear, had intervened and saved this church. Why was this so hard to believe? What would it say about God if God had done nothing? That the Almighty did not care? That He was powerless to stop it? A miracle was the only possible response! As Mortati knelt in wonder, he prayed for the camerlegno's soul. He gave thanks to the young chamberlain who, even in his youthful years, had opened this old man's eyes to the miracles of unquestioning faith. Incredibly, though, Mortati never suspected the extent to which his faith was about to be tested†¦ The silence of St. Peter's Square broke with a ripple at first. The ripple grew to a murmur. And then, suddenly, to a roar. Without warning, the multitudes were crying out as one. â€Å"Look! Look!† Mortati opened his eyes and turned to the crowd. Everyone was pointing behind him, toward the front of St. Peter's Basilica. Their faces were white. Some fell to their knees. Some fainted. Some burst into uncontrollable sobs. â€Å"Look! Look!† Mortati turned, bewildered, following their outstretched hands. They were pointing to the uppermost level of the basilica, the rooftop terrace, where huge statues of Christ and his apostles watched over the crowd. There, on the right of Jesus, arms outstretched to the world†¦ stood Camerlegno Carlo Ventresca. 125 Robert Langdon was no longer falling. There was no more terror. No pain. Not even the sound of the racing wind. There was only the soft sound of lapping water, as though he were comfortably asleep on a beach. In a paradox of self-awareness, Langdon sensed this was death. He felt glad for it. He allowed the drifting numbness to possess him entirely. He let it carry him wherever it was he would go. His pain and fear had been anesthetized, and he did not wish it back at any price. His final memory had been one that could only have been conjured in hell. Take me. Please†¦ But the lapping that lulled in him a far-off sense of peace was also pulling him back. It was trying to awaken him from a dream. No! Let me be! He did not want to awaken. He sensed demons gathering on the perimeter of his bliss, pounding to shatter his rapture. Fuzzy images swirled. Voices yelled. Wind churned. No, please! The more he fought, the more the fury filtered through. Then, harshly, he was living it all again†¦ The helicopter was in a dizzying dead climb. He was trapped inside. Beyond the open door, the lights of Rome looked farther away with every passing second. His survival instinct told him to jettison the canister right now. Langdon knew it would take less than twenty seconds for the canister to fall half a mile. But it would be falling toward a city of people. Higher! Higher! Langdon wondered how high they were now. Small prop planes, he knew, flew at altitudes of about four miles. This helicopter had to be at a good fraction of that by now. Two miles up? Three? There was still a chance. If they timed the drop perfectly, the canister would fall only partway toward earth, exploding a safe distance over the ground and away from the chopper. Langdon looked out at the city sprawling below them. â€Å"And if you calculate incorrectly?† the camerlegno said. Langdon turned, startled. The camerlegno was not even looking at him, apparently having read Langdon's thoughts from the ghostly reflection in the windshield. Oddly, the camerlegno was no longer engrossed in his controls. His hands were not even on the throttle. The chopper, it seemed, was now in some sort of autopilot mode, locked in a climb. The camerlegno reached above his head, to the ceiling of the cockpit, fishing behind a cable-housing, where he removed a key, taped there out of view. Langdon watched in bewilderment as the camerlegno quickly unlocked the metal cargo box bolted between the seats. He removed some sort of large, black, nylon pack. He lay it on the seat next to him. Langdon's thoughts churned. The camerlegno's movements seemed composed, as if he had a solution. â€Å"Give me the canister,† the camerlegno said, his tone serene. Langdon did not know what to think anymore. He thrust the canister to the camerlegno. â€Å"Ninety seconds!† What the camerlegno did with the antimatter took Langdon totally by surprise. Holding the canister carefully in his hands, the camerlegno placed it inside the cargo box. Then he closed the heavy lid and used the key to lock it tight. â€Å"What are you doing!† Langdon demanded. â€Å"Leading us from temptation.† The camerlegno threw the key out the open window. As the key tumbled into the night, Langdon felt his soul falling with it. The camerlegno then took the nylon pack and slipped his arms through the straps. He fastened a waist clamp around his stomach and cinched it all down like a backpack. He turned to a dumbstruck Robert Langdon. â€Å"I'm sorry,† the camerlegno said. â€Å"It wasn't supposed to happen this way.† Then he opened his door and hurled himself into the night. The image burned in Langdon's unconscious mind, and with it came the pain. Real pain. Physical pain. Aching. Searing. He begged to be taken, to let it end, but as the water lapped louder in his ears, new images began to flash. His hell had only just begun. He saw bits and pieces. Scattered frames of sheer panic. He lay halfway between death and nightmare, begging for deliverance, but the pictures grew brighter in his mind. The antimatter canister was locked out of reach. It counted relentlessly downward as the chopper shot upward. Fifty seconds. Higher. Higher. Langdon spun wildly in the cabin, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. Forty-five seconds. He dug under seats searching for another parachute. Forty seconds. There was none! There had to be an option! Thirty-five seconds. He raced to the open doorway of the chopper and stood in the raging wind, gazing down at the lights of Rome below. Thirty-two seconds. And then he made the choice. The unbelievable choice†¦ With no parachute, Robert Langdon had jumped out the door. As the night swallowed his tumbling body, the helicopter seemed to rocket off above him, the sound of its rotors evaporating in the deafening rush of his own free fall. As he plummeted toward earth, Robert Langdon felt something he had not experienced since his years on the high dive – the inexorable pull of gravity during a dead drop. The faster he fell, the harder the earth seemed to pull, sucking him down. This time, however, the drop was not fifty feet into a pool. The drop was thousands of feet into a city – an endless expanse of pavement and concrete. Somewhere in the torrent of wind and desperation, Kohler's voice echoed from the grave†¦ words he had spoken earlier this morning standing at CERN's free-fall tube. One square yard of drag will slow a falling body almost twenty percent. Twenty percent, Langdon now realized, was not even close to what one would need to survive a fall like this. Nonetheless, more out of paralysis than hope, he clenched in his hands the sole object he had grabbed from the chopper on his way out the door. It was an odd memento, but it was one that for a fleeting instant had given him hope. The windshield tarp had been lying in the back of the helicopter. It was a concave rectangle – about four yards by two – like a huge fitted sheet†¦ the crudest approximation of a parachute imaginable. It had no harness, only bungie loops at either end for fastening it to the curvature of the windshield. Langdon had grabbed it, slid his hands through the loops, held on, and leapt out into the void. His last great act of youthful defiance. No illusions of life beyond this moment. Langdon fell like a rock. Feet first. Arms raised. His hands gripping the loops. The tarp billowed like a mushroom overhead. The wind tore past him violently. As he plummeted toward earth, there was a deep explosion somewhere above him. It seemed farther off than he had expected. Almost instantly, the shock wave hit. He felt the breath crushed from his lungs. There was a sudden warmth in the air all around him. He fought to hold on. A wall of heat raced down from above. The top of the tarp began to smolder†¦ but held. Langdon rocketed downward, on the edge of a billowing shroud of light, feeling like a surfer trying to outrun a thousand-foot tidal wave. Then suddenly, the heat receded. He was falling again through the dark coolness. For an instant, Langdon felt hope. A moment later, though, that hope faded like the withdrawing heat above. Despite his straining arms assuring him that the tarp was slowing his fall, the wind still tore past his body with deafening velocity. Langdon had no doubt he was still moving too fast to survive the fall. He would be crushed when he hit the ground. Mathematical figures tumbled through his brain, but he was too numb to make sense of them†¦ one square yard of drag†¦ 20 percent reduction of speed. All Langdon could figure was that the tarp over his head was big enough to slow him more than 20 percent. Unfortunately, though, he could tell from the wind whipping past him that whatever good the tarp was doing was not enough. He was still falling fast†¦ there would be no surviving the impact on the waiting sea of concrete. Beneath him, the lights of Rome spread out in all directions. The city looked like an enormous starlit sky that Langdon was falling into. The perfect expanse of stars was marred only by a dark strip that split the city in two – a wide, unlit ribbon that wound through the dots of light like a fat snake. Langdon stared down at the meandering swatch of black. Suddenly, like the surging crest of an unexpected wave, hope filled him again. With almost maniacal vigor, Langdon yanked down hard with his right hand on the canopy. The tarp suddenly flapped louder, billowing, cutting right to find the path of least resistance. Langdon felt himself drifting sideways. He pulled again, harder, ignoring the pain in his palm. The tarp flared, and Langdon sensed his body sliding laterally. Not much. But some! He looked beneath him again, to the sinuous serpent of black. It was off to the right, but he was still pretty high. Had he waited too long? He pulled with all his might and accepted somehow that it was now in the hands of God. He focused hard on the widest part of the serpent and†¦ for the first time in his life, prayed for a miracle. The rest was a blur. The darkness rushing up beneath him†¦ the diving instincts coming back†¦ the reflexive locking of his spine and pointing of the toes†¦ the inflating of his lungs to protect his vital organs†¦ the flexing of his legs into a battering ram†¦ and finally†¦ the thankfulness that the winding Tiber River was raging†¦ making its waters frothy and air-filled†¦ and three times softer than standing water. Then there was impact†¦ and blackness. It had been the thundering sound of the flapping canopy that drew the group's eyes away from the fireball in the sky. The sky above Rome had been filled with sights tonight†¦ a skyrocketing helicopter, an enormous explosion, and now this strange object that had plummeted into the churning waters of the Tiber River, directly off the shore of the river's tiny island, Isola Tiberina. Ever since the island had been used to quarantine the sick during the Roman plague of A.D. 1656, it had been thought to have mystic healing properties. For this reason, the island had later become the site for Rome's Hospital Tiberina. The body was battered when they pulled it onto shore. The man still had a faint pulse, which was amazing, they thought. They wondered if it was Isola Tiberina's mythical reputation for healing that had somehow kept his heart pumping. Minutes later, when the man began coughing and slowly regained consciousness, the group decided the island must indeed be magical.

Ethics and Moral reasoning Essay

Facing Life While Fighting For an End Every one of us will stare down the face of death at some point in our lives; however, some will face it in much more unpleasant circumstances then others. We all have a right to choose what we want to do with our bodies. We even have the right to decide that we no longer wish to endure the pain and suffering of a terminal illness. Terminal illness is when someone is suffering from something that will eventually take their life regardless of any medical interventions. In this paper I will discuss the point in which a person has a right to decide if they want to die and what processes are ethically moral in aiding them in seeing their wishes come to fruition. Medicine has created more ways to cure or to minimize a person’s suffering from diseases that were once fatal or painful. Medical technology has given us the power to sustain the lives of patients whose physical and mental capabilities cannot be restored, whose degenerating conditions cannot be reversed, and whose pain can not be eliminated. As medicine struggles to pull more and more people away from the edge of death, there are pleas for relief outpouring from the tortured, deteriorated lives that all of us be merciful and give them the relief they need. (C Andre, and M Velazquez, KND). When a person is faced with the end of their life, it is said that we should agree that the absence of pain and the pride of the person should be taken into great consideration. When a terminally ill person is no longer capable of intellectual pursuits, is in constant pain and must rely on others for all of their needs, Mill feels that it is a more dignified choice to end the suffering, therefor fulfilling the â€Å"absence of pain† principle (pain including one’s inability to seek higher pleasure through intellectual pursuit) (J Conley, April 2010). Doctors are at the epicenter of  controversies regarding end of life issues and face so much scrutiny from both sides of opposing groups. Some doctors believe that it is oka y to assist the patient in their wish to end their suffering by simply discontinuing any and all lifesaving interventions. Other doctors believe that every effort must be made to save the person’s life until there is nothing else left to do. Once the doctor has reached this point they will place patients under hospice care and the patients are given medications to treat their pain such as morphine. The doses are in such high amounts that the patient is no longer coherent and able to make decisions on their own. They will usually expire within days following their first does due to how the medication slows down the heart and breathing. Supporters of the utilitarian ethic believe that the benefits of assisted suicide outweigh the costs. They argue that assisted suicide allows terminally ill patients to avoid needless pain and misery in their final days. They believe that it will allow a patient to maintain control over the timing and manner of their death verses having to face an unsure timeline and suffer for what could be far longer and harder than a physician may give. The utilitarian believes th at this would ensure that they would die with a sense of dignity. Post importantly it would insure that an individual’s right to self-autonomy would be honored at the end of life (M. Levin, KND). If you look at the views of a deontologist they would oppose this method because deontologists are all about duty. While both deontologists and utilitarian’s would typically do the same thing, Deontologists act out of duty, and would make their decision only once they see that the patient is on their last leg and is unable to respond for themselves, while the utilitarian acts out of a means to provide a sense of peace. When you are a utilitarian people may view you as irrational and emotional and not take you serious, while a deontologist may come across as a bit crude or even heartless. The downside to being in such a place to make these tough decisions can bring about certain issues such as: individuals feeling pressured to terminate their life because of a misperception of their diagnosis or prognosis; because of depression; or because of a concern for the burden they place on others and the depletion of their assets. Some individuals may feel pressured to end life by selfish family members or caregivers. This is why it is so important for the professionals to handle each case as though it is so sensitive. Each  patient must be thoroughly analyzed to make sure that they meet the proper criteria for end of life intervention. Life is about growing and learning, however, sometimes we are very limited to what we are able to do. This has no bearing on the quality of life and in no way should be used in ones decision to end their life nor should doctors look at limitations as a good reason to end life. The only times someone should be allowed to choose death over life is if they are unable to live a life that is rich and full of opportunity in spite of their illness. Meaning, that the illness is causing too much pain or that the illness in not allowing them to enjoy certain activities that they normally love doing. Then and only then the person should be able to choose what they want to do. Let me clarify this a little further. As we get older we will all eventually not be able to enjoy certain activities that we were once were able to, this alone would not be a reason to want to take your life, because your quality of life has not been interrupted. What would be a good reason is a person confined to a bed, being taken care of twenty-four-seven by a loved one or care giver and doctors have said that the chances of healing are not there. We will all stare down death in the face at some point. However, life is not about dying, but about living. If a person cannot live a life rich and full of meaning due to a terminal illness, they have the right to choose to live or die. If those rights are infringed upon the person withholding one’s personal rights should face dire consequences. Life is hard as it is, but then to be dyeing and living it in pain and suffering would be unimaginable and more inhumane then having it ended with the assistance of a medical professional on an at will basis. REFERENCES Ituriguy, July 5, 2008. The Decision To End One’s Own Life Is A Fundamental Human Right. Retrieved March 10, 2014 from www.opposingviews.com Wikipedia, KND. Utilitarianism. Retrieved: March 24, 2014 from www.wikipedia.com C. Andrea and M. Valdez, KND. Assisted Suicide: A Right or A Wrong? Retrieved: March 24, 2014 from www.scu.edu J. Conley, April 2010. Kantian vs. Utilitarian Ethics of Euthanasia. Retrieved: March 24, 2014 from www.wp4dying.blogspot.com M. Levine, KND. PHYSICIAN-ASSISTED SUICIDE: LEGALITY AND MORALITY. Retrieved: March 24, 2014, from: www.levinlaw.com

Medication errors Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

Medication errors - Essay Example inistration requiring higher skills like the intravenous route, but occur even when medications are administered through the simpler non-intravenous route (Ghaleb et al, 2006). Tang, Sheu, Yu, Wei, and Chen, 2007, report that among physicians, pharmacists and nurses, who make up the chain of healthcare professionals involved in the use of drugs for therapeutic reasons, the contribution of nursing professionals to medication errors is high, even though they are only involved in the administration of the drugs. They fall back on a multidisciplinary committee analysis of 441 medication errors in a hospital in the United Kingdom. The report of the committee showed that nurses were responsible for twenty-two percent of these errors and that twenty-five percent of these errors were medication errors. The authors provide additional information on the background of the nursing professionals involved in medication errors. More than ninety percent of medication errors occurred after graduation from a nursing school, with more than thirty percent of the errors occurring in nursing professionals, who had graduated in the previous year. The average length of work exper ience was found to be 2.2 years with a plus or minus error of 0.7. More than half of these errors occur in large teaching hospitals or medical centers, while 36.1% of the errors occurred in regional hospitals and 12.5% in local hospitals. The more significant medication errors within a hospital were the intensive care units and the medical wards. Data on the break up of the types of errors is also provided. Wrong dose makes up the highest percentage of medication errors at 36.1%, followed by wrong drug at 26.4%. The other types of medication errors involved were wrong time at 18.1%, wrong patient at 11.1%, wrong route 8.3%. Wrong administration of antibiotics made up 38.9% of the medication errors. The medication errors regarding the administering of electrolytes were 8.4%, analgesics 6.9%, anti-diabetics 6.9%

What is CRM Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

What is CRM - Essay Example In addition, a well-managed customer relations system provides the corporate management with the important data about the customer so that the organization can move forward. Indeed, such tools as email organizers and helpdesk software can help in the management of customers since customers are the nerve center of any corporate system. Drawing from my own personal and professional experiences, I can categorically give the MacDonald’s as a good example where customer relations manager has worked well over the years. In this business, the management always engages the customers through various marketing strategies before receiving frequent feedbacks to improve quality. On the other hand, several small and medium scale companies especially those run by one person usually lack the department of customer relations management thereby having some challenges in the effective interacting with customers. For instance, some local manufacturing companies may never advertise their products or services well hence losing many customers or experiencing a fall in profits. This is majorly because there is no institution put in place to address the welfare of the customers. Therefore, customer relations management is an instrumental part of any corporation and it would only be wise in all companies employ it in their manageme nt

Chicago Gun Laws and its effect on the Criminal Justice System Research Paper

Chicago Gun Laws and its effect on the Criminal Justice System - Research Paper Example In fact, perhaps Chicago is a case study in which we see quite clearly that strict gun controls harm the public rather than protect it, by removing legitimate access to firearms and leaving the illegal arms trade to those who have less legitimate purposes for those guns. The legal climate of Chicago’s gun control policies is complex and confusing to most who try to follow it, especially with the constitutional challenges even new laws are facing. A detailed study of these laws, and their respective effects on the criminal justice system, should provide a useful perspective on whether their existence is warranted given Chicago’s crime rates. Chicago’s reputation for strict gun control laws started in the 1980s when the city passed, along with Washington D.C., tighter restrictions on who can legally acquire and use firearms within the city limits. However, despite these laws being in place in both Washington D.C. and Chicago, neither city enjoyed a reduced crime ra te (Levitt 174). Although Chicago never received a careful analysis at this time, it was known that Chicago lagged behind the nationwide homicide decline during the 1990s. This had led those familiar with the Chicago legal situation to suggest that policies raising the cost of using guns as opposed to targeting ownership is the most effective strategy for reducing gun-related crime. Although Chicago’s policies against guns were well known even in the 1970s, some authors have remarked that enforcement of those laws is the weak link connecting gun control laws to reduced crime (Bendis and Balkin). Because gun laws vary by state to state and, in some cases, from city to city, the best strategy for understanding the impact of Chicago’s gun control laws is to examine those laws in the context of state laws related to guns. In Illinois, firearms are not required to be registered nor are carry permits issued. However, individuals need a state permit to purchase a firearm and an owner license is issued to every firearm owner. Part of this process is the Firearm Owner’s Identification (or FOID) card, which owners acquire from the Illinois state police (Illinois General Assembly). An individual must present a valid FOID card whenever he or she attempts to purchase firearms or ammunition. This allows the state to monitor the purchasing of firearms (1) to keep dangerous weapons out of the hands of dangerous people and (2) to assist in investigations in gun-related crime. Additionally, the use of FOID cards screens out and prevents individuals who have been convicted of a felony from acquiring firearms from a licensed vendor. The FOID card is difficult to acquire for individuals under 21 years (Illinois General Assembly). As the most populated and crime-ridden city in Illinois, Chicago has in place its own level of restrictions on gun ownership. For instance, the municipality has an ordinance in place that requires all firearm owners not only to have p ossession of a FOID card, but also that firearms are registered with the Chicago Police Department, in addition to the Illinois State Police. This policy did not include handguns up until June 2010, when new registrations of pistols were unfrozen by law after thirty years (AP). The effect of not allowing handguns was negative in the view of many city officials, who began to recognize the need for conceal-and-carry

The Benefits of Single Parenting vs Two Parents Essay

The Benefits of Single Parenting vs Two Parents - Essay Example The parents tend to bring their ego in petty matters and argue with each other. This makes the environment in the family not only uncomfortable for the child but also for the parents. A single parent does not have to go through all this. He/she is independent in his/her decisions and there is no one to challenge them. â€Å"When I call out, "Bedtime," there's no one to say, "Aw, let them stay up another half hour."† (Mohler, 2011). Accordingly, the parent enjoys complete right over the child. Stronger Bond with the Child A child’s bond with a single parent is usually stronger than it usually is with either of the two parents when he/she has both. Single parents are often the role models for their children. Children grow up imitating the attitudes, activities and ideology of the single parent. â€Å"A single parent is also more readily available to observe changes in the child's behavior and attitudes, as well as getting to know the peer group the child chooses to surro und her/him† (Squidoo, 2011). Having both parents, children tend to be careless towards their parents. They know if the mother scolds, they can side with the father and when the father is outrageous, they can seek refuge in the mother’s lap. But having a single parent means no escape whatever the parent says or does. There is nobody the child can look up to for any kind of help but the single parent. Over the time, such a bonding between the single parent and the child proves very beneficial for the parent. Many children escort their old parents to the old houses when they grow up and get married themselves. Children think that the couple would take care of each other’s needs. But a child would think a thousand times before doing this to a single parent considering he/she has been the child’s only guardian all life long and must be taken special care of now that he/she is old. The life-long struggle of the single parent pays off in the end in a vast majori ty of the cases while the opposite is true for the dual parents. Development of Solid Child Identity Single parenting develops a solid identity in the child. Single parent is like an open book. The child reads the book and does accordingly. Children who grow up under the supervision of dual parents have the tendency to become confused because of the conflicting views, beliefs and opinions of the two parents. Let’s take a case for example in which the two parents belong to different religions. The father is a Christian and the mother is a Hindu. The father goes to the Church while the mother goes to the Temple. The father eats beef burgers while the mother worships the cow. The father does not worship the idols while the mother does. All of this is very confusing for the child. Parents are supposedly the role models for the children. When the two role models display different and often conflicting characteristics, the child becomes confused and is not able to work out which of the two is correct and which is not. Such marriages have frequently inculcated such a culture in the home, wherein the child starts believing in both the religions. The mixture of the two religions gives rise to a third religion that has extremely subjective foundations and whose beliefs and perceptions are entirely challengeable. The child having multiple beliefs himself is very confused. On one occasion, he worships the cow and on another, he eats it. This

In considering the time period of 1865 to the present, is the American Essay

In considering the time period of 1865 to the present, is the American story one of oppression or success Victory on the par - Essay Example The rich have thrived for long while the poor have remained in abject poverty. For instance, during the gilded age, the large corporations, which were owned by the elite, influenced the market. Moreover, the industries manufacturing various commodities were regulated by influential politicians and rich businessmen and women (Unger and Debi 41).1 This led to great disparities in the social realm. In this regard, the poor were exploited because of lack of financial power. Democracy was not practice because the majority were poor hence they could not manage to marshal required numbers to oppose the rich. Even the labor unions could not protect the rights of the vulnerable workforce because the industrial leaders were corrupt. However, the oppression of the wealthy became unbearable culminating in reprisals from the workforce, women and the Black people. They capitalized on politics in their advances. For instance, they used the People’s party in order to present their grievances to the Authorities. These groups faced oppression of different forms like prejudice and social segregation and racial discrimination. The emphasis of a class society was also a means of oppression and exploitation especially at their workplaces (Â  Burnley 29). ... The understanding of the oppressors was that competition was warranted in order for the social and financially fit people to survive while the poor forever remained in anguish and agony. In this regard, any support for the poor from the government side was highly criticized by the high social class people. This implied that it was the wish of the poor to remain in their low social status. However, the farmers who were also oppressed were supported by some white in their fight for their rights (Burnley 34). This group of the white people had formed their own group called the populist movement, which advocated for the rights of all farmers regardless of color or race. Since many blacks never owned parcels of land, it became difficulty for them to engage their oppressors in a formidable battle. The black farmers formed their own movement called the colored farmers Alliance. This alliance was used by the black to specifically orchestrate strikes for the workforce who picked cotton. This contributed in the fight for the freedom of Blacks in America. This did not succeed because the politicians warned of the resurfacing of Negro supremacy. There discrimination against the black workforce continued. This resulted in high levels of unemployment for the black American community .Moreover, the blacks were excluded from voting. This was conducted through deliberate subjection of the blacks into literacy tests and understanding of the US constitution. ( Finkelman 23).34 This was intended to eliminate the black people from taking part in the voting process and deny them citizenship of the US, which was manifest of a high level of oppression. The worst case of oppression was the loss of Plessey’s case whereby he complained against