STEM CELLS

Stem cells: Hope and hype
Opponents of embryonic stem cell research -- starting with President Bush -- argue that you can't destroy life in order to save it; supporters argue that an eight-cell embryo doesn't count as a human life in the first place -- not when compared with the life it could help save.Opponents say the promise of embryo research has been oversold; supporters retort that adult stem cells are still of limited use, and to fully realize their potential we would need to know more about how they operate -- which we can learn only from studying leftover fertility-clinic embryos that would otherwise be thrown away.Back and forth it goes, the politics driving the science, the science pushing back.Adult-stem-cell research is morally fine but clinically limiting, since only embryonic cells possess the power to replicate indefinitely and grow into any of more than 200 types of tissue.Extracting knowledge from embryos that would otherwise be wasted is one thing, but scientists admit that moving forward will require a much larger supply of fresh, healthy embryos than fertility clinics could ever provide. And once you start asking people about creating embryos for the purpose of experimenting on them, the support starts to slow down.Five years after Bush announced that federal money could go to researchers only working on embryonic stem cell lines that scientists had already developed, Democrats hope to leverage the issue as evidence that they represent the reality-based community, running against the theocrats.

MY ACTUAL REALITY

This is my actual reality. All I did was make the choice, about 15 years ago. Here is what actually happened. I moved out here from Los Angeles, California with the intent of trying it out. I am after all a big city boy, and was not sure if Hawaii was going to offer enough excitement to keep me entertained. I had memories of many vacations in Hawaii when I was a child and had always held, deep in my heart, the fantasy of living in Hawaii some day.

I was not feeling well and had been seeing a variety of doctors for some curious lumps I have developed. This was quite frustrating as the doctors I had seen were giving me antibiotics and they were having no effect. I was sure that I had some type of lymphoma but could not get any of the doctors to do a biopsy. Finally, I had decided to see an oncologist at my own expense, as my insurance plane was restricting me to primary care physicians. The doctor I was to see was at a hospital that was located in town, Honolulu, in an old neighborhood all the way up a hill just north of old Chinatown. After my meeting with the oncologist, some preliminary test and an immediate biopsy, for which I was permitted to wait for rather immediate results. I was indeed given the diagnosis of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma and told that I had been diagnosed as stage four. This meant that I had limited time left on this planet, unless I responded to some rather radical chemotherapy.

Needless to say, it was a bit much to digest all in one afternoon. I needed to walk this feeling of desperation off. After leaving the oncologists office I started to walk down the hill to gather my thoughts. As it happened the neighborhood I was in was one of the old neighborhoods I used to escape to with my allowence money when I was a child. I happened across a small restaurant, which looked odly familiar. I deceided to go in and asked if I could have one of the roast ducks hanging in the window, to take home with me. I had done this on my own as a child, you see. The ancient and arthrites ridden woman behind the counter also looked oddly familiar. It could not possibly be the same woman I knew as a child. The last time I saw her I was only ten years old and she was the oldest woman I had ever met at that time in my life. It just could not be her. I asked one more question. "Do you still make roast duck soup?", I asked. " Of course I do, Philip.", said the old woman. With my eyes a big as pizzas, I shouted, "How could this be? How can you possibly remember me? It hjas been forty years since I last saw you. I was just a boy of ten". The woman leaned back in her chair so that she could see me. She simply said, "still Funny Lookin". I knew I was home at that very moment. I had never felt so strong a sense of belonging in my life.

The old woman has since passed away, and I am still living. It has been eleven years since that bittersweet day. It must be my Karma, I just can't die. After all, I owe money.