Science
'Show up and share': How one UCLA ICU helps patients and staff live with dying
Extraordinary things happen in the cardiothoracic intensive care unit at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center.
The sick rise from bed with new hearts and lungs. Machines valiantly take over for faltering kidneys, heart valves, bronchial tubes. All patients enter with grave health concerns, and the vast majority leave recovered, or at least on the road to healing.
The unit has 150 nurses, at least two dozen of whom are on the floor at any time. They are there for all of it: every intubation and needle stick, every setback, every odds-defying rebound. They bond with their patients and advocate hard for their best interests.
“Our business is living, surviving and getting whatever the patient needs to get there,” said Mojca Nemanic, a critical care registered nurse in the unit.
But sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, the most common thing in the world happens here, too. Heartbeats slow and then stop forever. Diaphragms release a final breath and do not contract again. People die.
And when there’s nothing left to fix, CCRN Lindsay Brant said, honoring a patient’s death can be life-affirming.
That’s the ethos behind Community, an initiative Brant proposed two years ago to support patients, their families and unit staff during the dying process.
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1. Lindsay Brant rings a bell while meeting with fellow nurses before they tend to patients. 2. Brant caresses the hands of a patient. 3. Brant, left, and unit director Katrine Murray prepare candles. (Al Seib / For The Times )
Led by a 12-member committee of nurses, the initiative gives nurses the tools to care for a patient until, and even after, the moment of death. Community allows these caregivers to advocate as hard for the patient’s preferences at the end of life as they do during their treatment, and to process their own grief after a loss.
“Having somebody survive and recover is such a beautiful story,” said Brant, a 12-year veteran of the unit. “Why shouldn’t death and the transition also be just as momentous?”
The idea for Community began with Marbel, one of Brant’s first patients in her early years in the ICU.
The unit’s nurses speak of patients in broad outlines to preserve their privacy, but even the bare contours of Marbel’s story are haunting: a wound so grievous it nearly severed her body in two; grueling daily treatments that caused as much suffering as they relieved.
Marbel had had enough. Her surgeons wanted to press ahead. In frustration, Brant planted herself in front of the door to her hospital room, barring entry until doctors acknowledged what the patient wanted, which was palliative care and a peaceful death.
The experience sparked a realization, Brant said: A system set up with the noble goal of saving people could at times inadvertently overlook their humanity.
Brant took a course on care for the dying at Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe, N.M. She became a certified death doula, a person who helps others prepare for life’s end and supports them during the process.
By 2023, she decided to approach her boss, unit director and CCRN Katrine Murray, with an idea for an initiative that would come to be called Community.
Molly Mayville, Allison Kirkegaard and Tony Estrada, from left, of the Threshold Choir prepare to enter a patient’s room to sing at their bedside in the cardiothoracic ICU at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
Murray was immediately interested. The ICU was still reeling from the trauma of the COVID-19 crisis, in which staff cared for a seemingly endless wave of the pandemic’s sickest patients.
Studies have found critical care nurses to be at significant risk for anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder and burnout since the pandemic, thanks to the toxic combination of unrelenting work and the moral distress of watching patients suffer, and often die, without their loved ones present.
“People dying alone — that was one of the things we’ll never get over,” Murray said.
Even before the pandemic, intensive care nurses reported dissatisfaction and frustration with hospital procedures that failed to honor patients’ preferences at the end of life.
A 2018 study of intensive care nurses found no physical procedure or patient diagnosis that correlated with nurse distress. Witnessing a patient’s death, respondents said, was not in itself upsetting.
Brant, left, and Murray, right, discuss which patients the Threshold Choir will visit.
(Juliana Yamada / Los Angeles Times)
But they were three times as likely to report severe emotional distress if they felt that their patient died what they perceived as a “bad” death: afraid, unheard, their wishes and dignity overridden by those around them.
“The dying process is part of humanity, and therefore the process itself needs to be respected, just like the patients themselves need to be respected,” Brant said.
Starting in June 2023, Brant started surveying colleagues about their comfort and experiences with caring for dying patients. She started small group trainings and circulated “cheat sheets” of advice for supporting patients and their families.
Community officially launched in summer 2024. It encompasses a swath of programs intended to comfort patients and make meaning from death.
In the Goals of Care component, nurses talk with patients about their hopes for treatment and comfort with extreme measures, conversations that are documented and used to communicate patients’ wishes to their medical team.
The unit became an early adopter of UCLA Health’s 3 Wishes program, which helps caregivers carry out final requests for patients and their families: a hospital room wedding, a plaster mold of the entwined hands of a patient and their spouse, a last trip outdoors (no small feat, considering the armada of medical equipment that has to come along).
Brant cares for a patient in the unit.
(Al Seib / For The Times)
Brant connected with the Threshold Choir, a national network of volunteers who sing at the bedsides of the ill and dying. Members of the choir’s Westside chapter visit the unit every Thursday to sing soothing harmonies to patients in need of comfort, regardless of their prognosis.
There is the Moment of Silence, a ritual after a patient’s death in which nurses and doctors join the patient’s loved ones in the hospital room to honor their passing.
And for the staff, there is Show Up and Share, a quarterly session on Zoom and in person to debrief about challenging experiences on the unit. Some people vent. Some people cry. Some participants don’t say anything, but write in the chat how much it means to hear colleagues voice a similar emotion.
The hospital previously made social workers and counselors available to unit nurses, but uptake for their services was low, Murray said. In contrast, Show Up and Share “just works, because we’re doing it for each other as opposed to someone else,” she said.
In late 2024, CCRN Quentin Wetherholt was caring for a patient with a long-term illness when he sensed a subtle change in her demeanor. He initiated a Goals of Care conversation with the patient, her family and doctors that reviewed possible options for treatment, nearly all of which she had already tried. After hearing her choices, the patient spoke up: She no longer wanted life-prolonging measures.
From that point on, the patient’s attitude “was just nothing but joy, ironically. It caught me off guard. Normally, when people realize that they’re facing death, it’s a very sad environment to be in. But with her, it was freeing,” Wetherholt said.
“It was a very difficult road that she was on: lots of pain, lots of surgery. And so for her to have that just instantly be gone, and she could enjoy her time the way she wanted to enjoy it — it brought her back her sense of self.”
“The dying process is part of humanity, and therefore the process itself needs to be respected, just like the patients themselves need to be respected,” Brant said.
(Al Seib / For The Times )
The patient asked relatives to fly in from overseas. She asked for a milkshake. She died peacefully about a week later, with family around her bed.
After the patient’s death, the unit held a Show Up and Share session to grieve for her and for others who had recently passed in the unit.
“Before, it was almost like a point of pride — you know, ‘Death doesn’t affect me, this is what I do for a living,’” Wetherholt said. “But now it’s become such a nice thing to go through with your co-workers, to be able to have this forum to really heal and to not have to bottle it up.”
Early data are promising: In a survey of nursing staff five months after the Moment of Silence began, 92% felt more connected to their patients and families, and 80% felt closer to their teammates. Brant has applied for a grant to share the Community program with the hospital’s six other intensive care units.
“We are a family here, and we treat patients like they’re an extension of our family,” Brant said. “Nursing is the best excuse in the world to love on strangers, to treat all humanity as if it was your closest friend and loved one. And it’s such a gift to be able to do that.”
Science
Contributor: The crucial medical question that AI can’t ever answer
One of us got a call last spring from a longtime friend. The story was familiar: two doctors, an MRI, an online AI tool, a stack of articles — and one anxious question. “Everything tells me something different. The AI says I might need surgery. What should I do?”
We believe there’s one key response to anyone in this all-too-common conundrum: “What matters most to you?”
There was a long pause.
That pause is one of the most important moments in modern healthcare — and it is exactly the question artificial intelligence is unable to address.
In our careers as physicians and researchers, we have found, clearly and repeatedly, that for many common conditions the medical evidence does not point to a single “right” answer. The biology is often close. What determines the success of an outcome is whether the choice fits the person making it.
Some patients with back pain want the fastest possible return to physically demanding work, even if it means surgery. Others want to avoid an operation at almost any cost, even if recovery takes longer. The scan may look the same. The lives behind the scan are not.
That insight is becoming critically important as artificial intelligence moves deeper into everyday health decisions.
In our research on AI and clinical decision-making, we’ve studied what happens when systems are trained to optimize medical outcomes but are blind to human values. In plain English, today’s AI is very good at telling you what usually works for people like you with similar demographics and medical histories. It is far less capable of understanding what you are trying to protect, avoid or prioritize.
This matters because some of the most common and most expensive medical decisions are not purely biological. Should someone with low-risk prostate cancer choose surgery, radiation or careful monitoring? Should a person with atrial fibrillation undergo a procedure or manage the condition with medication? Should a patient with chronic knee or back pain operate now or try months of physical therapy to see whether surgery can be avoided?
In these situations, the medical differences between options are often small or uncertain. What makes the biggest difference is whether the treatment aligns with the patient’s goals: tolerance for risk, willingness to undergo recovery, ability to adhere to long-term therapy or simply what kind of life they want to live.
AI systems can calculate probabilities. They cannot determine what those probabilities mean to a particular person.
In some respects, artificial intelligence may know more medicine than any individual physician. It can synthesize millions of scientific papers, clinical studies and patient records in seconds. Yet it knows remarkably little about the person sitting across from it. AI does not know a patient’s goals, fears, obligations, tolerance for risk or personal definition of a good outcome. And because it knows little about either the patient or the physician, it knows even less about the conversation between them — the place where facts, values and trust come together to produce the right decision for a particular person.
A second patient story brought this home. A retired teacher was referred after an AI-based symptom checker flagged a heart rhythm abnormality and “favored” an invasive procedure. The patient arrived frightened, convinced there was one correct path. When we talked, it became clear that what mattered most was avoiding a long recovery and staying healthy enough to travel to see grandchildren.
Medication and monitoring — less dramatic, but well-supported by evidence — fit those goals better. The AI wasn’t wrong. It just didn’t know what mattered.
This blind spot is not trivial. Roughly a quarter of U.S. healthcare spending flows through decisions in which patient preferences meaningfully affect outcomes. When those preferences are ignored — by people or by algorithms — care becomes misaligned. That can mean unnecessary procedures, poor adherence, regret and rising costs without better health.
So what should consumers do when an app, portal or “smart” tool recommends a course of action?
Start with three questions.
First: “Best for whom?” If a tool says one option is best, ask whether it means best on average — or best for someone with your priorities.
Second: “What does this system not know about me?”
AI can see lab values and imaging results. It cannot see your job, your family responsibilities, your fears or what you are trying to get back to.
Third: “What happens if I wait or choose differently?”
Many important medical decisions are not emergencies. When options are close, taking time to reflect is often part of good care.
Artificial intelligence is becoming a powerful partner in medicine. It can help explain options, surface evidence and reduce confusion. But it should inform human decisions, not replace them.
AI may know more medicine than any physician.
It knows far less about any patient.
And it knows least about the conversation between them.
The most important variable in your healthcare is not in any algorithm. It is you.
James N. Weinstein is a surgeon and former chief executive of Dartmouth Health. He is a clinical professor at Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Management and global head of Health Futures at Microsoft, which develops AI systems. Ogan Gurel is a physician and assistant professor at the University of Texas at Arlington, where he researches AI, causal inference and patient decision-making.
Science
Fans slam FIFA’s cooling breaks. Why the U.S. World Cup team doctor disagrees
While it may not be remembered as FIFA’s most controversial decision of the 2026 World Cup, the institution of mandatory cooling breaks in all matches has been met with boos and derision, with critics saying the pauses disrupt the game’s flow and offer little benefit in air-conditioned environments.
“They’re in a dome here! Temperature-controlled, climate-controlled — why are we having a break?” fumed one England fan to a radio reporter outside the England-Croatia match in Arlington, Texas, where field temperatures inside AT&T Stadium approached a comfortable 70 degrees Fahrenheit despite an outdoor heat and humidity index near 105 degrees.
But for Dr. Bert Mandelbaum, chief medical officer for U.S. men’s soccer and vice chair of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center’s orthopedic surgery department, the breaks set an important precedent for prioritizing athlete health in extreme heat, even at the highest levels of competition.
“I do think the cooling breaks are an important part of the game. I’m really excited and happy that we are employing those,” he said by phone Tuesday morning, hours after the U.S. team’s 4-1 knockout loss to Belgium.
“Difficult weather environments bring on dehydration and can create severe exhaustion, heat exhaustion, and those [conditions] have tremendous and dire consequences,” Mandelbaum said. “Talk radio could discuss it over and over again, but from our standpoint, the real messaging should be to our communities, our club players, that this is an important part of our game, and the cooling break is how we help manage it.”
Warming climate conditions are forcing changes to human behavior all around the globe, including on the pitch.
Extreme heat kills more people each year than all other forms of extreme weather combined. Elite athletes are not immune to its effects.
As temperatures during a game rise, the circulatory system diverts blood to the skin to lower core body temperatures at the same time that active muscles require oxygen-rich blood. This places extra strain on the heart, which pumps harder to keep up with demand. Sweating players lose electrolytes faster than they can consume them, leading to muscle cramps, fatigue and dizziness.
Virtually all aspects of the game degrade in the heat, Mandelbaum said. Players’ performance, recovery ability and decision making erode. Artificial turf becomes intolerably hot, and the soil in natural grass can harden until it’s like playing on concrete. Air molecules inside the ball expand, making it a harder and faster object. Even fans risk injury: 22 people were treated for heat-related illnesses at a FIFA Fan Festival in Houston last month.
Mandelbaum directs the FIFA Medical Center of Excellence at Cedars-Sinai and was part of the FIFA Medical Committee in 2014, when the first World Cup cooling break was called during a Netherlands-Mexico match in Fortaleza, Brazil.
At the time, the sport’s governing body recommended hydration breaks if temperatures surpassed 102.2 degrees.
This year’s World Cup, hosted across the U.S., Canada and Mexico, is the hottest played since the tournament began in 1930. It has coincided with a withering heat wave in the eastern U.S. With a heat index of nearly 104 degrees at kickoff, the July 4 match in Philadelphia between France and Paraguay is believed to be the second-hottest game in World Cup history, after a 105-degree match in 1994 between Ireland and Mexico in Orlando, according to meteorologist Brad Maushart.
FIFA announced in December that this year’s tournament would be the first in which all matches must pause once in each half for hydration and cooling, regardless of temperature conditions.
FIFA President Gianni Infantino said mandatory breaks equalize playing conditions in all matches. When they haven’t been loudly booing, many fans have noticed that teams often appear to spend as much time strategizing during the pauses as they do hydrating.
Given this, “if we were to use hydration breaks only in those matches where it was too hot and not in the other matches, we would give an advantage or a disadvantage to some of the coaches or some of the teams,” Infantino told Sports News Television.
Harry Brown, a postdoctoral research associate at the University of Sydney’s Heat and Health Research Centre, expressed frustration over the universal breaks in an op-ed in the journal Nature.
“Although it might seem fair to treat all games in the same way, this blanket approach risks undermining trust in heat-safety measures. If breaks are always used, regardless of risk, they stop being meaningful and start looking like routine stoppages,” Brown wrote.
Without active efforts to lower players’ core temperatures, pausing game play may not be enough to effectively stave off heat injury, he wrote. In his own research, Brown’s team compared the effects of passive breaks against breaks with active cooling measures on the health of players participating in 90-minute soccer games in 104-degree heat and 41% humidity.
When players cooled themselves with cold drinks and icy towels during short breaks and took longer halftimes, their core temperatures and cardiovascular strain lowered considerably more than they did after only passive breaks, Brown wrote.
Other physicians argued that even an under-utilized break was better for athletes than nothing at all.
“I would say that it’s better to err on the side of having cooling breaks rather than risk not having them,” said Dr. Miho J. Tanaka, an associate professor of orthopedic surgery at Harvard Medical School who also serves as a team physician for the Boston Red Sox and the New England Revolution.
“Ultimately, an individualized screening or monitoring process may be the safest approach, but we are still far from being able to precisely identify and intervene when an individual player may be at risk,” she said. “Until we are able to do so, having standardized breaks is a step in the right direction, as long as teams and players are informed when to escalate their level of concern and take action when more aggressive measures are truly needed.”
While a cooling break is rarely medically necessary inside a climate-controlled indoor stadium, Mandelbaum said it still sends a valuable message to players around the world: If hydration breaks are a part of the sport’s biggest event, they should be allowed at every other level of play.
“Not only is [the hydration break] a good thing, it’s a necessary thing,” Mandelbaum said. “This is the world’s game … we have to figure out how to help players at all levels and ages to have the ability to thermoregulate, hydrate, how to do it well.”
Science
New FireSat satellites promise faster wildfire detection over California and beyond
A trio of satellites set to launch early Tuesday will give wildland firefighters more time to respond and scientists more information about fire-prone regions across the globe.
The launch from Vandenberg Space Force Base is the first phase in a constellation called FireSat that will eventually cover the globe with 50 satellites collecting high-resolution imagery of fires and conditions on the ground every 20 minutes.
Earth Fire Alliance, the nonprofit group behind FireSat, got the project off the ground with $69 million in grants from the Bezos Earth Fund, Google and the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation.
San José-based Muon Space built the satellites. Muon and the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection are both FireSat partners.
The satellites use advanced thermal sensors to detect heat and can pick up signals from fires as small as a beach bonfire, as well as cooler fires that have been smoldering for days, according to Michael Falkowski, lead scientist at Earth Fire Alliance. That information will help fire officials, including the Los Angeles and Los Angeles County fire departments, understand whether blazes are growing, where they are headed and how much soot and smoke they are generating.
FireSat’s infrared instruments detected this small roadside fire in Medford, Ore., during a 2025 test flight.
(Muon Space)
“If we can differentiate between a smoldering fire and a flaming combustion fire, it really has a big impact on how we can understand the air quality emissions coming off the fire,” Falkowski said.
Fires that burn at low temperature produce more harmful gases than hot fires. Think about a campfire. When it’s burning hot with bright flames, there is relatively little smoke. When it’s smoldering, it produces lots of thick, white or gray smoke.
Wildfires work the same way.
A hot, fast-burning fire has enough oxygen and heat to burn with more complete combustion, producing less smoke for every pound of wood burned.
Earth Fire Alliance will provide data from these first three satellites in the next few months to Cal Fire and fire agencies in Oregon, Texas, Australia and Portugal. Cal Fire will share it with Southern California fire agencies.
The network will also turn its sensors on in the Amazon Basin for the Brazilian nonprofit Amazon Environmental Research Institute.
Cal Fire should begin receiving data from the scientists later this year, according to Falkowski, who joined Earth Fire Alliance last year from NASA, where he was an earth science program manager running the agency’s fire science program.
Instruments on the satellites will be able to detect fires the size of a shipping container, and distinguish between hot, intense wildfires and cooler, smoldering ones.
(Muon Space)
Falkowski said the new FireSat satellites are a big improvement over existing ones because they will be able to see smaller fires with better resolution and distinguish low-intensity “cool” fires from high-intensity hot ones.
“The satellites are really designed to measure fire across the entire temperature profile, so we can see cool fires all the way up to really hot fires,” he said.
That kind of granular information is important for emergency responders in the field and planners who make decisions about calling for extra help or ordering evacuations.
The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration operates three satellites that can detect a fire somewhere inside a square 1,230 feet across.
In contrast, instruments on the FireSat satellites will be able to detect small brush and roadside fires 16 feet across.
Cal Fire officials have long embraced new technology to get ahead of wildfires in recent years, testing autonomous firefighting helicopters and partnering with UC San Diego to use artificial intelligence to filter images from a network of more than 1,200 cameras on lookout towers and mountain tops. The Alert California program is able to spot smoke in a video and sends automated messages to one of 21 agency command centers across California.
In 2025, Alert California sent out automated warnings before authorities even received 911 calls from the public 51% of the time, according to Phillip SeLegue, staff chief of Cal Fire’s intelligence program.
A worker at Mountain View-based Muon Space puts the final touches on a wildfire-detection satellite scheduled to launch Tuesday on a SpaceX rocket. The satellites will be tracking fires across the globe.
(Muon Space)
FireSat will help incident commanders get better information more quickly, and, unlike fire-spotting aircraft, the satellites can linger over a fire for days or weeks and aren’t hampered by high winds or smoke.
Travis Medema, chief deputy for the Oregon State Fire Marshall, said his office will use FireSat to plan escape routes and monitor fires. “If we can fight these when they are small, we feel we will be more efficient and can protect Oregonians,” he said.
One expert noted that turning satellite data into information useful to firefighters and forestry managers will take some time. The FireSat data will “be amazing for fire nerds, but how and whether it helps individual fires remains to be seen,” said Joe H. Scott, founder of Pyrologix, a wildfire analysis firm based in Missoula, Mont. “Right now, we are not basing decisions on where satellites tell us a fire is,” Scott said.
Pyrologix develops wildfire risk management models for federal agencies, local governments and utilities. Scott said FireSat’s high-resolution data will help him build better prediction models that take into account weather, drought, plants and the history of fires in a region.
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