“You” are just a bag of quarks and electrons, and every time one of them changes its spin or other quantum attribute, a new “you” springs into existence. But wait, it’s even better! Under the multiple-universes interpretation, each time this happens, not only is there a new “you”, but the old “you” is still there (somewhere) too! True, the new and old “youse” are in separate universes and never meet. But the one in “you”'re universe will always be the one “you” know and love, so there’s that.
OP should read up on “Quantum Immortality”, and rejoice at the prospect. General anaesthesia or no, at least one of “you” is bound to survive indefinitely, and, as the surviving one is the one with consciousness, that will be the “you” that the conscious you is.
Here goes… Versed’s a benzodiapine sedative that induces anterograde amnesia for some period after administration. In other words, you may technically be conscious, but the VCR isn’t recording, so to speak.
In practical terms, it’s just about indistinguishable from being unconscious. Both times I’ve had surgery, they gave it to me at some point before actually being on the operating room table, and it was like someone flipped a switch- next thing I knew, I was waking up in the post-op recovery room, like I’d just conked out cold right then. One time I was actually sitting up having a conversation with one of the nurses- not even in the operating room yet, and the next thing I remember, my knee hurt like hell and I had an oxygen mask on and was in the post-op recovery room
So how’s that work? Do you “die” when the recorder stops recording, or when the anesthesia kicks in and you’re actually unconscious? From my perspective it was pretty much the same thing as when I’ve gone to sleep or fainted- no recollection of events until I actually woke up.
Well, probably not. The neurons are still functioning, maintaining the basis for your consciousness. People who have gone under GA don’t tend to lose any of their memories.
Furthermore, we have hundreds of thousands of people who have been anaesthetized, and whose closest relatives and friends can’t tell the difference. If there were serious personality changes – even very tiny changes – someone would have noticed it, long ago.
At this point, you’re well into “a difference that makes no difference.”
Also…consider the consequences of not having needed surgery. We know the terrible things that happen to people who don’t get their appendix seen to. In contrast, all you have is the vaguest and most abstract philosophical question about the nature of “self.” (A term that can’t even be defined concretely.)
This, or something. They used Versed when I had an upper-GI endoscopy. I guess I was partly conscious, and afterward I thought (and still think) I had some vague recollection of what happened, but the doctor seemed certain that I did not.
Then they used Versed when I had that colonoscopy. For that, it was as you described – they started the juice flowing andthenextthingIknew I was in the recovery room. But was I really out cold during? For all I know, I could have been screaming in exquisite unbearable agony during the procedure and now I just don’t remember it! But it might have been awful! And the next time I ever have surgery or any similar procedure, what torture might it be? Even if I don’t remember it afterward.
That’s kind of my point- the continuity of memory is pretty much what consciousness seems to be; if the recorder’s not recording, it’s like you weren’t really conscious. It’s almost like the ultimate effect of whatever makes you unconscious is actually something that shuts the recorder off in some fashion- low blood pressure, drugs, trauma, etc… Your body may relax, etc… but from your point of view, the distinguishing thing is that the recorder shut off for a period of time, and you have that gap in your memories.
I’ve been under general anesthesia several times, and I’ve seemed to turn out okay*. In fact, I’ve actually enjoyed the experiences. Good doctors will ease your fears.
*Or so my handlers tell me. Look! A balloon! RED!! Dog!
I have this same fear. I could’ve sworn I’ve read this theory that that happens under all GA–that you’re actually awake but paralyzed, and the anaesthetic (I probably screwed up the spelling) just erases your memory of the trauma.
If it’s only this Versad stuff, I am staying away from that shit. That’s Twilight Zone terrifying to me.
I linked to the same piece in post #24, but no one seems to have listened.
IIRC, it says that your brain goes into a kind of “standby” mode, with an all-pervasive low-level neuron “hum” blocking conscious thought (yes, even dreaming).
Why would that be consoling? If your material brain isn’t enough continuity for you, then why would adding an immaterial soul be any better? If a copy isn’t “you” then all that soul is, is the second of those “two brains” in the argument you posted in your OP.
Even assuming that something being “immaterial” even made sense.
BOO!!!
Oh, you are so going to die when you get that appendectomy…
Just kidding.
Actually, I argue just the opposite position with regard to anesthesia: while I do believe a Star Trek type transporter will kill you, general anesthesia will not (unless from a fatal anesthetic complication, or if you arrive at pre-op via a Star Trek transporter).
I believe we started this argument back in '05 around the middle of this *short *thread , and it continued in number of subsequent threads since then, getting more interesting all the time.
And, FWIW, I believe most of the [silly] SDMB materialists disagree with my thesis, but they are the ones whose position you should fear, not mine…they posit that you die every time you go to sleep! :eek:
Hey, back off , Jack! And, stop referring to me in the plural. I have but one consciousness…the factory installed original.
I think it corroborates my claim that continuity of identity is an illusion caused by memory.
I have odd disconnected flashes of memory from when I was under. I remember being terribly funny and making the nurses laugh, and my wife corroborates that.
I sailed with a doctor, a GP who had done a lot of deliveries in the 40’s through 60’s. He liked to tell how in the 50’s for a while the main drug for deliveries didn’t address the pain. The patient remained conscious, swore like sailors and cursed the damn man who got them into this mess, only to awaken with no recollection and a rosy glow about how everything went so well. No wonder they didn’t let the father into the OR!
I think it was a rather clever joke, substituting “immaterial” for “immortal”, and with a nice double-entendre for “immaterial” (isn’t matter vs. doesn’t matter). “Thank God for my soul, which doesn’t matter!”
The problem is that you aren’t making yourself clear at all. When you go to sleep at night, are you worried that you’ll wake up as someone else entirely?
You’re crafting a “boogie man” here, but you haven’t defined it clearly, or even described it very well.
I mentioned personality change, because that can be defined relatively clearly, and it can be tested for scientifically. At least I brought a salad to the potluck. What have you got? Can you actually tell us what you’re worried about?
I’ve had the same thought as the OP. The way I see it, is that you are your brain. It’s the thing that generates you. Sometimes when you wake, there is a sliver of time where you don’t know where you are, that’s your brain seeing before your memories are loaded and indexed. Your consciousness is something that your brain generates. That’s why you can alter consciousness with drugs or damage. Your brain is the hard drive and motherboard, and your consciousness is the running copy of windows.
If your copy of windows shuts down every night when you sleep, it doesn’t matter. The same brain boots up a new instance of you the next day.
When you shut down hard, like under GA, that doesn’t mean that the hard drive is different, just the instance of Windows. You have access to the same files and applications.
I’m not a philosopher and have never studied it formally. I can’t really express myself in philosophical terms well enough to form a crystal clear argument.
On a side note, my fears have dampened slightly, but I’m still scared that what I’m saying could be correct.
Well…I’m scared of having a stroke and losing large parts of my self, as happened to my grandmother and two aunts. They were all still awake and aware…including being aware of how much mental function they had lost. That’s just plain hellish, and it happens to millions of people every year. It’s a real thing to be concerned over.
Abstract existential philosophical loss of subatomic-level “self?” Kid’s stuff!
I am or can be terrified of anything at the drop of a hat, and I think I know where you’re coming from, and it’s not rational. If I seem to be patronizing or belittling you I apologize; to the contrary, I’m a member of the same club, and it’s often not a happy one.
Some years back I had to undergo major surgery or else the cancer that was slowly spreading was going to kill me. That was much scarier than going under general anaesthesia, so I went with it. Since the prospect of dying of a horrible illness was far more frightening than treating it naturally (which I’d been doing for ten years! ), I “went for the knife”. As things turned out the “knife” was being used robotically, which kind of intrigued me.
I’ve lost my train of thought…okay, it was nothing. The anaesthesia and my recovery from it was no problem, and while it left me a bit groggy for a day or so after surgery I noticed no changes in my personality. The day after surgery, still a bit woozy, I (in typical contrarian fashion) took a mile long walk in the rain with a catheter tied to my pants leg (inside of course :D).
A suggestion (and this worked for me): first off, if you’re a religious person, pray (bit don’t overdo it), say what you’ve gotta say to God, the Almighty, the Deity, whatever, and THEN, look at the bright side: it’s an adventure. The going to the hospital for major surgery business isn’t fun but it makes you think, or made me think, and it came down to “either I’m going to pull through” or “it’s over”. I was told by every doctor I consulted with that the odds for total recovery were in the 85-95% range. The drugs they give you for aches and pain are better than ever. Strangely, the thing I’d thought would be most painful, didn’t happen at all. Post-op, I never used the oxycodone or whatever they called it. Two advils twice a day worked fine for me. I’m fine.
), I “went for the knife”. As things turned out the “knife” was being used robotically, which kind of intrigued me.