Healthcare Hacks - The India Story

Woman gets a new windpipe with tissue grown from her own stem cells

Lynn Truong — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 15:02:31 -0500

Claudia Castillo, a 30-year old Colombian woman suffered from tuberculosis for years and needed regular hospital visits to clear her airways. After a severe collapse of her left lung, doctors thought they would have to remove the entire left lung.

Dr. Paolo Macchiarini, head of thoracic surgery at Barcelona's Hospital Clinic, proposed a windpipe transplant instead. Only a handful of windpipe transplants have ever been done, and transplants carry the risk that the body will reject the organ.

This surgery however, was the first transplant of a windpipe with tissue grown from the patient's own stem cells. Doctors took stem cells from Castillo's bone marrow to create cartilage and tissue cells to cover and line a donor's windpipe.

The procedure was done in June, and so far Castillo has shown no signs of rejection. She did not need to take any immune-suppressing drugs, which can cause side effects like high blood pressure, kidney failure and cancer. It may take up to three years to know that the windpipe's structure is solid and won't fall apart.

The results were published on The Lancet.

[Source: Doctors transplant windpipe with stem cells]

Permalink | 1 comment | Lynn Truong's blog | Channel: Stem cells

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From Sickness To Stem Cells To Closure At Last

Amy B. Scher — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 20:32:34 -0500

By Amy B. Scher

This long journey has been full of so many things.....except one.

Closure.

But, today was my day.

I went back to finish what started so many years ago (covered in an obnoxious amount of tick spray of course).

I went back to the city where I now know that tiny tick bit me without my knowledge
In sunny Ojai, California, a place I still love
And stared at the crevices of a tree, deciphering which one could have housed the insect that changed my life forever
And then I kissed my days of illness goodbye in true Amy style

I ran around that symbolic tree as many times as I could (with my puppy following close behind)
Leaping over bushes and a broken sprinkler with an energy so all its own, I didn't know I posessed it until that very moment
I stomped all of those unpleasant memories back into the earth as hard as I could and put them to rest
Goodbye to the miserable days of pain and agony and longing for a cure or even a glimmer of hope

As I walked away, it finally felt over, like I was leaving even the presence of my energy there to blow away in the autumn breeze
I thought there would be sadness and maybe a few tears but there was nothing of the sort
Only pure joy as I ran and stomped on the feet that were too painful to even stand on at one point in my not so distant history

I breathe so many sighs of relief tonight
I feel lighter than I ever have
I would do this day over and over again a million times if I could
It's been one of the most healing of my life
The nightmare has ended and it is gone from my being
I'm awake and alive and well
And I have emerged a bigger, better person than I would have ever been if the disease that destroyed nearly all of me.....hadn't also allowed me to rebuild a life more beautiful than I could have ever imagined

Thank you to the person who journeyed with me to that tree today
And took pictures as I ran around it like a fool
You are an inspiration in more ways than you know
Nothing felt better than ending all of the pain and heartache there with you as my witness

Permalink | 9 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Lyme Disease, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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The Happy-Birthday-To-Me Letter!

Amy B. Scher — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 23:17:50 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

Dear Me,

Happy Birthday!

I can’t believe I know that I will wake up tomorrow, on my big day, in no pain. It seems celebration days were always the worst. I’m not sure what kind of lesson that could have been but the dependability of the pattern was uncanny.

So many birthdays spent in bed and cakes I could never eat because of allergies....and some years, forks too heavy to lift to my mouth even if I could.

But now….. I can stand up. Eat pizza and cake. Jump up and down with a party hat on if I want to. Go out of the house and walk for miles. Not worry about painkillers and medicine bottles and timers for taking it all. No nausea from medicine and no headaches either. No tears for moments I know I am missing, and guilt for the happy ones I see that are absent from the faces of my oh-so-patient and dedicated loved ones.

But do you know what the absolute best part of my 29th year is?

I am alive.

And that for the first birthday in a very long time, there is not a thought in my mind that I might not be here for many, many, many more years to come.

Love,

Permalink | 11 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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Medical Freedom: Hand Delivered

Amy B. Scher — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 18:53:26 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

I have the strangest feeling of complete freedom; despite a normally fear-inducing circumstance.

I lost my health insurance this month.

The details aren’t important, but I will state it isn’t my fault and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I don’t usually contend well with these sturdy inabilities to change things, but it is what it is.

I got the notice in the mail. It didn’t make sense so I was a bit confused. But more perplexed than by the words within the envelope, I was stunned by the noticeable missing pit in my stomach. Where was that rock hard feeling that sits in my gut when I deal with anything medical?

My family has gone nearly broke trying to sustain my healthcare in the last few years, so why was I not completely scared of a future without my beloved Blue Cross buddy? It certainly isn’t for the lack of understanding the negative impact of having NO INSURANCE. I keep saying it aloud to see if it starts to terrify me. Everyone who knows me, is well aware that I am the biggest proponent of insurance. Yes, it’s expensive and still often doesn’t cover what you need (you can argue with me till you’re blue and my reasons for having it will always win), but it covers a lot more than your cash would or should.

All that is irrelevant though at this point. It’s gone. I am on my own.

And in the most transparent revelation that I’ve had since I can remember, not being bound by the safety net of this bureaucracy feels as if I have just been set free from chains. It is the absence of the invisible walls of the medical system prison I am used to living in. It is simply that I am finally not a hostage of thoughts so tightly impacted by what has always been (sickness), that I am not consumed with “what might be” (more sickness).

I am not high risk anymore in the same sense.

I am not a “sick person” who needs care on a daily basis.

I am normal to the point that this risk I am forced to take, is no worse a risk than if anyone else took it.

I don't fit in some special category labeled "FRAGILE" anymore.

I am healthy.

And I am ecstatically and undoubtedly free from a kind of fear I never even knew was possible to live without.

Thank you Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish. Thank you for giving me embryonic stem cells, but infusing me with just as much hope. Thank you for giving me the strength to inspire others. Thank you for a pioneerism that is unmatchable.

As I make my way through my eighth month in my incredibly strong and healthy body, I realize that what you gave me was an unthinkable gift of so many things I can easily name; but more importantly, some that I didn’t even know I was missing.

Permalink | 3 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Lyme Disease, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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The BIG Question Of A Chronic Lyme Disease Cure

Amy B. Scher — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 17:20:04 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

It seems I have to answer this, totally emotionless, once and for all. I may paste it on my forehead and the signature tagline in my e-mail. I get asked it so many times that my answer seems canned. And despite absolutely loving that I can inspire hope in so many via the phone and e-mail, prospective patients need a place to go and read this for themselves. Over and over if they wish.....

Question: “Are embryonic stem cells a cure for Chronic Lyme Disease?”

Short answer: I believe (disclaimer: Atlhough I am not in any way a medical professional qualified to advise, so please consult your own...) that in conjunction with antibiotics, embryonic stem cells can be a cure for debilitating symptoms associated with Chronic Lyme Disease. I feel that this can happen in two ways. One, by pumping up the immune system to better cope with the infection and other issues and diminishing chances of a relapse (with the help of adequate antibiotic treatment and possibly supplements and alternatives); and two, by helping to repair the body's degeneration which can be causing many symptoms because of damage to the body systems (such as nerve damage, heart damage, etc.).

Long answer: In my opinion, nothing kills the Lyme bacteria and other co-infections except antibiotics (and anti-parasitic medication, etc.). However, the bacterial load is not the only problem with Lyme Disease. And often after one has gone through rigorous treatment protocols, it may not be any part of the problem. The degeneration of the body due to having an untreated or undiagnosed infectious disease for so long is a huge challenge (arthritis, brain lesions, a damaged nervous system, heart problems and the list goes on). Western medicine is there to help treat the actual infection (even if it’s near impossible sometimes thanks to this nightmarishly “smart” bacteria). But, what can we do to repair our tormented bodies once doctors have helped us erradicate the bacteria?

As well as all of those lovely issues of degeneration, a severely compromised immune system makes things worse by allowing the body to become a sponge, soaking up every little germ, chemical and whatever else might be floating around an environment. To take it a depressing step further, a patient's system can’t detoxify properly so they becomes stuck with all of that inside of them. Even the simplest of ways most people detoxify such as urine and sweat, are not reliable. Many Chronic Lyme patients over time, will become unable to sweat since it is a function of the nervous system, causing a further problem with detox. If the kidneys don’t work right, then toxins may not be excreted through urine. An immune system that doesn’t work though, goes far beyond that, keeping the body in a state of inability to control the Lyme infection, as well as often becoming misdirected, turning on your body instead of the infection (autoimmune diseases).

Ok, I’ve successfuly kept all Amy-isms out of this (which was excruciating for me). As a consolation prize to myself, I’m now directing you to my mushy, heartfelt post: What’s In A Cure?

Permalink | 1 comment | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Lyme Disease, Amy's journey, Stem cells, Learn about Lyme, Co-infections, Complications

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The Joy Of An Ordinary Cold

Amy B. Scher — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 20:36:54 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

I have a cold. I’m sniffling and sneezing and coughing so bad I’ve seriously choked three times today. I hung up hacking to death, mid-phone call, on the woman at the American Express customer service number. I am semi-pouting because I may not be able to go out of town tomorrow like I had planned. My head feels like it’s stuffed with rocks. My body aches. Driving five hours doesn’t seem in the cards.

I cannot believe I ever lived in an uncomfortable body for so many years (and this, by the way, is still nothing in comparison). One that needs constant attention and even when doted over and attended to, still doesn’t feel better.

I was teary this afternoon. This cold has kicked off some inner emotional turmoil. It’s a reminder of how bad it was to be sick and how much I never want to be that way again. I know it’s over now but it was apparently much more torturous than I realized at the time. I always joke that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now from being chronically ill. It’s kind of funny, but maybe not such a far off theory.

I always had a hard time explaining to people what it was like to be sick, all the time. And now, as a healthy person (minus the temporary germ infested being I am now), I finally have a very inferior analogy that the general (non chronically ill) population will understand.

Imagine having a cold (but tenfold the symptoms and pain and whatever else) and doctors telling you it will never go away. Or better yet, doctors telling you it will, but then year after year, you have the same cold without so much as a 4 second break. Everything hurts all the time. Your nose won’t stop running. You have to keep getting up to run to the bathroom to blow it but you cough and sneeze all along the way. You are too tired to keep getting up but you have to; your nose is in charge here. You try to sleep when night finally comes, because that’s the only time you can escape the cold, but alas, it keeps you up. Your sinuses hurt, your throat is on fire and your ears ache constantly. You can hardly breathe so you can’t lie down. No position is comfortable. And, there isn’t a cold medicine at the drug store that has done a thing for you except flood you with side effects.

Ok, visual nightmare over.

I’m smiling now that it’s all in perspective. I’m grateful that all I have is a cold. Thank goodness this will be over, for sure. No doubt. When I go to bed tonight, I won’t have to lie awake wondering if I will sneeze and choke and have compromised breathing for the rest of my life; or if any of that will eventually kill me.

Who knew one could be so thankful for the sniffles? I’m so elated that I might even call the American Express rep back just to tell her I’m okay. And that, yes, I’ll be paying that bill on time this month.

Permalink | 3 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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The Embryonic Stem Cell Proof Is In My Brain (Scan)

Amy B. Scher — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 14:17:40 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

I am still marveling at the color copies of my SPECT brain scan, although somewhat in disbelief. My passion for photography does not come close to producing pictures like the ones that manifested from last week’s scan, just days before I left India. In fact, I could not intentionally capture colors so vivid, or an image so real and telling of an illness that has now officially lost its battle, little by little and day by day since my first stem cell injection December 11, 2007. I hold in my hands not only pretty pictures; but proof so substantial that I dare to invite even the most mainstream, by-the-book, anti-embryonic-stem-cells-because-it-just-can’t-be-if-I-didn’t-invent-it-doctor, to contest.

When I got to Delhi in December of last year, my brain scan revealed three lesions in the frontal lobe of my brain (both sides). That was two more than I had after the torturously aggressive treatment in the U.S. to try to stop the progression of Chronic Lyme Disease, and subsequently, the degeneration of almost every body system in my 28-year-old being (including my brain tissue). The embryonic stem cell treatment has now completely demolished two lesions, and near but eradicated the last one. I study the images of my brain trying to locate the last part of the one remaining lesion. It’s improved beyond recognition, so much so that I’m having a hard time deciphering where its exact location is.

The part that stuns me the most I suppose, is that I left Delhi with two lesions in February of this year. One disappeared during my two-month treatment there. But consistent with the research that embryonic stem cells continue to work for months and years, they were repairing my body long after I left India and stopped receiving daily stem cells shots.

Dr. Geeta Shroff’s embryonic stem cells are the future of treating incurable and terminal illness. Like it or not Western world, here they come. You can try to slow down this remarkable technology, but you can’t stop it. And if you ever met the two doctors behind this, you’d silently laugh at anyone who thought otherwise.

After failing the mini-round of IV antibiotics due to boycotting veins in India, we decided a month of oral antibiotics would suffice. This is just to make sure the infection stays under control, if there is any still left at all. I hate the pills and the pills I have to take to make sure those pills don’t hurt me (my liver, kidneys, etc.). And I despise worrying that my stomach will just one day decide it hates me, enough to fall completely apart. But, I have this healthy, vibrant, functioning body and the inconvenience of the medication is a small price to pay for big “insurance.” I feel like sometimes I’m holding on so tight that I’ll crush the mere possibility out of a far-fetched theory that this disease could ever do again to me, what it once did.

This might just be the shortest blog post in the world for a girl as wordy as me. But, what can I say? My overcomplicated life has become so simple that it takes less and less words to describe.

And in all fairness, compared to the indisputable proof that embryonic stem cells regenerated an otherwise progressively degenerating 20-something-year-old brain -- does anything else really even matter?

Permalink | 5 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Lyme Disease, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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Caregiving In The Name Of A Miracle

Amy B. Scher — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 21:15:34 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

Note: The following post is meant to provide praise and validate the importance of caregivers who come with the patients receiving treatment. However, in no way is it meant to denigrate or be critical of those friends and family members who want to come, but due to their own circumstances such as job commitments, health reasons or family obligations, are unable to do so.

To those of you who are not here: You are the glue that gently holds together pieces of the beautiful lives we had to part with to do this, so when our missions here are complete, we have arms to run home to. You are irreplaceable motivation every day to push further, become stronger, and live bigger. Not even for a second, should you ever forget that.

Being in India for the second time in the midst of all of these new patients (I'm a veteran now!) has made me more aware than ever at the important, undeniable, heroic role of the caregivers here with patients; especially those here for the first treatment round. Each patient must come with one because even though the nurses and doctors are wonderful, there is nothing like the love of a mother/brother/husband/wife/friend/parent/partner/you-get-the-idea. It is actually a requirement for the treatment program and a wise one at that. Even the bravest fall apart under the circumstances and when you are sick or injured, emotions are high and tolerance can be low. It can be survived alone for sure, but the warm hug of someone to fall into when you really need it, is some mighty important medicine.

Blessed are the caregivers who sleep on a fold out mattress instead of their own cozy bed; swelter in the sticky heat outside just to search for the comfort foods of home; work from a laptop at odd hours in a totally different time zone just to make money to get here and be here; adapt to life without the assisted devices they are accustomed to (like handicapped bathrooms); smile along when things go well and cry too when things are tough; rarely complain because they want this as bad as their loved ones; make the best of everything and even manage to have some fun; relocate the pets for months at a time until they return; use a small counter and a lonely teapot as a full-service kitchen; laugh over the silly things when frustration is the first response; never give up; dry the tears when the days seem too long and hard; forgo Starbucks and happy hour for afternoon tea and melted evening ice cream from the market; get soaked in the fierce rain of Delhi; are there for first steps or first days of no pain; use the time to catch up on their reading when they have a million more productive things to do waiting at home; cheer in physio; brave the tuk-tuk rides that make them nauseous; peel and wash and disinfect the fruit to make sure the baby stem cells have enough nutrition; and embrace not only the hope of this incredible treatment, but the often rough and wild experience of an unfamiliar life with a person they hold so close, they could not imagine it any other way.

Miracles happen all the time here. The best seats are rightfully reserved for the cheerleaders that stand on the sidelines unwilling to let anyone tell them something different.

Permalink | 4 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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The Indian Rupee That Knew It All

Amy B. Scher — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 13:52:35 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

My perpetual coin flipping habits have become more pronounced lately. I believe ultimately, too much in fate. I can tend to shy away from decisions due to this maddening M.O. I've been using for years. Life works out always. So, why should I get in the way?

I have been trying to get through 10-14 days of IV antibiotics as part of a preventative schedule that will make my Lyme doctor “feel better.” Sometimes I picture us both walking on egg shells, deciding when it’s ok to be a little more liberal; a little less Lyme cautious. “You are the first,” I keep hearing. “We just don’t know yet.” I truly get it. I’m doing so well so what is a small dose of antibiotics going to hurt, if it’s merely insurance that the bacteria will stay under control (that is, if it’s even there anymore)? My body is well into repair so why take chances that all of that miracle work can come undone? I hear what my doctor is saying loud and clear. We agreed that if I got through this, I could go all the way until January without anyone (like him or Dr. Shroff) even mentioning I go near my butt with a shot or my arm with an IV needle. The medical intuitive I consulted several months ago was adamant the Lyme infection was gone. But unfortunately with this disease, there are no guarantees, and no testing to measure exactly what is happening inside my body. Why can’t I see in there? Why won’t it tell me? These questions rummage through my too-tired-of-dealing-with-Lyme mind during times like these. I feel so confident that I am fine but the ones around me in protection mode seem to want proof to make sure I'll stay healthy like this forever.

So, like a good patient who wants to please my doctor that has been amazingly supportive of me stepping out of the medical box, and into another country for an experimental treatment, I have been grinning and bearing two IV’s a day for six days. I only had four more to go. That is, until the final straw that broke the already agitated patient’s back (me).

After days of burning veins from the harsh medication, swollen arms and uncooperative IV catheters, the Universe shouted at me. When the nurse started IV drip number seven, an unusually insane burning quickly became intolerable in my forearm. So, I looked down to assess the problem and noticed the infusion spot swelling at a rapid rate. Somehow, the catheter in which they infuse the drugs through, had slipped out from my vein and the medication was accumulating in my arm, just under the skin. With only half the antibiotic agreement filled and half more to go before I was free until my January goal, I sat on my bed in probably the tenth near panic since I'd started the regimin. They removed the line from my arm and it would have to be re-inserted the following day by my talented catheter guru, Dr. Ashish. But, something was nudging me, telling me I was done.

I pondered what my doctor at home would say if I called it quits, and what Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish would say when I saw them. And then I did what I think anyone would do in this situation…..I got out a shiny Indian Rupee. My surrogate mother upstairs helped me examine the coin until I decided which side was “heads” and which was “tales.” Heads would be the side with the hand and five fingers (like a "stop" sign). If that side would come up, I would stop the IV antibiotics and deal with the possible consequences later.

We flipped it anxiously and up came a big sign from above. No more meds. I never second guess this crazy way I make some of my most important decisions -- unless it has to do with food and I’m flipping for dinner choices in which I secretly wanted the dinner that didn’t turn up. That often calls for a double flip, just to be sure. When I told Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish the story (minus the crazy coin flipping), Dr. Shroff immediately said, “That’s it. You are off of it.” Dr. Ashish couldn’t help but agree that maybe my body was giving me a sign.

So, today I have faxed my doctor back home. It admittedly sounded like a break-up letter. It explained that I just couldn’t deal with the drama -- that I tried so hard, but it clearly wasn’t working out. I was patient for as long as humanly possible, but everyone has a threshold. I couldn’t go on like this, I gently told him. I hope he understands that it just can’t be. Monocef and me just don’t get along anymore as much as I wish it wasn't so.

If he questions my decision, I’ll try to make him understand why it had to be over. My veins busted and my body was trying to show me that it wasn’t right. Plus, let's face it. The Indian rupee told me so.

------

After the publication of this post, a fellow victim of "vein drama" sent me this hilarious self-authored version of a popular song:

Stopping Drugs is Hard To Do (sung to the tune of Neil Sedaka's "Breaking up is Hard to Do")

Please take the drugs away from me

Can't you see my arm's in misery?

Just told my doc and he was blue

Cause stopping drugs is hard to do

Sitting there with my arm held tight

Poked and prodded all through the night

After all my veins are through

Stopping drugs is hard to do

They say that stopping drugs is hard to do

But I tossed a coin, and know that it's true

No IVs, it is the end

Instead of swelling up, I wish my arm was not in pain again

I beg of you, please say goodbye

No search for veins to give a try

Come on Amy, you are through

Stopping drugs is hard to do

Permalink | 4 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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What's In A Cure?

Amy B. Scher — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 15:07:33 -0400

By Amy B. Scher

I have been trying to post an update for days now with miserable success. I’ve opened numerous new documents and none of the words that my fingers type fit the page just perfectly. I have had two spinal procedures in the last five days chocked full of memorable moments; all which have rendered me wordless (and not even necessarily in some profound way). They have come and gone with no concrete ideas on what is important or relevant enough to blog about.

As Dr. Ashish slowly injected the syringes full of embryonic stem cells into my spine yesterday, I took deep breaths inhaling them in through the pain. A heavy feeling crushed my lower back as they settled into my body. It was all I could do through the strange sensations, to whisper a near silent welcome to my new cells, that no one but I could hear. After five consecutive hours of bed rest, I am back on my feet today, unable to sit still. I find that these days my challenges come in totally different manifestations than ever before. It seems lately, I struggle with the impossibility of stillness. I want to move. I want to go, do, see. It washes over me and I am unstoppable. It is not an urge to partake in anything grand. It is just the inability to remain physically stagnant -- simply because I don’t have to anymore. I sat and reclined for literally years of my life and now I find myself standing for no reason at all. I stand when I type at my computer. I stand when I blaze through pages in my book. I stand because standing is a possibility now; and I have at last found security after being stable for six months, in knowing that standing with strength and without pain will always be my reality.

My emotions are raw lately. I tear up at all the wrong things, at all the wrong times. But I also laugh so hard I can’t breathe; and live so freely that the world sometimes disappears. The novelty of a life so newly relinquished is still vibrant. This trip has re-infused me with so much, in so many different ways. There is a home here that I cannot even begin to explain.

As I tap the keys on my laptop tonight, I am finally comfortable in the quiet. I am exhausted from fighting the need for movement and bargaining with myself to slow down. I have just realized it doesn’t matter. My mind is humming with busy thoughts and projects I’ve been working on. Meditation and a relaxed mind don’t suit me now. So, I have decided to give up. Society tells us that we need quiet time to reflect and calm our minds. I’m breaking all of the rules. I know who I am. I had years of nothingness to fill and I have determined I’m stocked up for quite some time now. So, I will continue to do all the things that can add up to tiredness while a body heals. I'll use the stairs always just because I can now; make trips to the bank long before I need to (so not my style); and wander down the street with no specific destination, just to absorb the chaotic energy of the city, even if the heat drains me. I will rest as much as my baby stem cells need, but not more just because I think I should.

One day, when I am ready, I will slow down and relax. Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish giggle when they see me running around. They tell me I don’t look like a patient. I’ve always been told that, but the feeling of being sick overcame my apparently healthy appearance. It no longer does now.

I once gave away my secret to my ever so devoted but medically unable to help immunologist. With a thick Japanese accent and broken English dripping from his lips, he always asked on our follow-up phone appointments, “How you look now? When I see you, you look so good.” After several conversations, I divulged all. “Dr. O,” I said…“Bleached blonde hair and blue eye make-up can fix anything.” We laughed together at the absurdity, but also at the truth of the time. I always wondered if I stayed sick forever, if that's all it would take.

Since my last trip to Delhi, I skip my make-up way too often and my hair is several shades darker. And still, I look healthy. Despite the few things that are still in the process of fully healing, the feeling of sick has been cleared from my being.

I keep asking myself the same questions over and over. How can I thank two people, who because of their indomitable spirits, have instilled hope in an otherwise hopeless situation? And, how can I live every day knowing I have this gift while so many others continue to suffer? As of now, there are no answers and I have to be okay with that until they come.

I am thankful today that I was unable to judge the depths of my own illness during the worst times. Looking back, I really do believe I would have died fighting. I am amazed how I could be unknowingly protected from a now obvious reality. I can’t think of these things too much because the ‘what if’s’ and ‘close calls’ of a path I narrowly escaped from, still scare me.

I wish I could find my world-renowned immunologist from years ago, now. He has moved to Japan, but I owe him an update. Dr. O, if you are out there.....I may have given you a false impression. Hair dye and eye make-up can only take you so far.

For everything else, there is only one road to wellness. I followed my heart to this crazy city, full of unknowns and without the support of Western medicine. I have met an entire world here that I never even knew existed. So many patients have asked if embryonic stem cells are a cure for Lyme Disease. I am not a doctor who can fairly make a scientific call on a cure. But I feel that by combining stem cells to rebuid the body and the immune system, and aggressive antibiotic therapy to demolish the bacteria, health can finally be an option.

I can only speak as a patient -- one who has endured needles and pain and tests that told me nothing and doctors who threw up their hands and days of hopelessness and medication that made me worse and times of wondering, “Is this really it?” And tonight as I sit still in my room long enough to write for the first time in a week, I can hardly stop typing. The cure is not in any one thing with the sole goal of alleviating debilitating symptoms. It is also in what you learn on your way.

Through two incredible physicians and a light inside me that no disease could ever dim; I have found more than I knew possible. I found the eternal confirmation to follow my heart even if it leads me to scary places. I found safety in going against mainstream. I found a knowingness that these cells were what my body needed. And in all of that so-called bravery and determination and pioneerism that some say I have -- which led me to board a plane to a third world country where I’d meet two angels that dress up as doctors -- I found that I knew best all along. I found that my body was lost but my spirit knew exactly where I was going. I found that timing is truly everything. I found a world without symptoms and pain and disease. And I do believe I found my cure through embryonic stem cells.

After all, I found life.

Permalink | 4 comments | Amy B. Scher's blog | Channel: The India Story, Lyme Disease, Amy's journey, Stem cells

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