Please...Just A Few More Million

Some of my friends were discussing Stem Cell research. I've had an up close experience with that magic of modern medicine. This is almost two years old, but the discussions prompted me to share it.



October is a sad month again this year, which is ironic because it has always made me feel alive and energetic. The sky is the bluest shade blue, and the sun (although it blinds me after 5:PM driving down RT 22) shines crispy-beautiful. Two years ago in October we started the treks to Hackensack Medical Center to harvest Steve's stem cells.
On some of the most beautiful days of the year I sat with him in a room with four other patients hooked to machines that took blood out of their bodies, sent it into a centrifuge to separate the cells, and put the rest back in. Amazing stuff indeed. We watched the little hanging bag filling with layers of blood...dark red at the bottom, lighter red, pinkish red, and finally the coveted creamy yellow stem cells floating on the top layer.
We'd talk in millions....how many did we think got harvested that day? The docs wanted thirty million, some to use and some to keep frozen for a possible second transplant if needed. The other patients and the friends beside them compared notes. We congratulated each other on the climbing numbers, like gamblers rejoicing in lottery winnings.
Steve's stem cells were slow to give themselves up despite the daily Nuprogen injections he gave himself in the abdomen to increase their production. We gave them little pep talks in the car on the way..."C'mon you guys, step up to the plate! We need some homers here." After all, it was during the playoffs, and Steve loved baseball almost as much as music.
After a few extra tries, they finally had enough of those little cells on ice. They let him rest for a couple of weeks and then started the heavy duty chemo in preparation of the actual transplant. Then the precious cells were put back in. They did their little dance down to his marrow, engrafted, and started producing new healthy blood. The magic was working.
And then last October he died.
This year I can't help but look at the glinting sun and that blue sky and think about those rides to Hackensack on beautiful mornings when we were so optimistic. We had Kerouac's "On the Road" on CD to listen to in the car...but it never got played. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the millions we hoped to win at the end of the trip.