Sri Husband read aloud: “A young Captain of the
Indian Army… bullet damaged his spine,… was doomed to paralyses waist downwards
for life… two years after that injury, last week he walked. Thanks to stem-cell
treatment.”
“Miracle,” I supposed. “Which god did he pray to?”
Sri Husband googled rapidly: “Stem-cell treatment
is … the result of decades of focused and fantastic research. After antibiotics,
stem-cell therapy is THE breakthrough in medical science. In recent decades,
the Nobel Prize for medicine has gone to those who have done research in cell-related
studies… tissues, organs, even limbs can be grown by using this method.”
Limbs being grown? Like lizards’ tails?
I bent forward to check. He wasn’t inventing the
stuff. “Stem-cells are unspecialized cells which can be got from a placenta
during childbirth or from an embryo. Stem-cell therapy is still in the
experimental stage, but for those who are paralyzed or with a failed organ, the
only hope. ”
Sri Husband, cynical as ever: “There’s a gap
between hype and hope.”
I read on: “The single-cell female ‘egg’/ovum is
potentially able to become any tissue or organ. A fertilized ovum starts to
multiply rapidly and at different stages is known by names like blastula,
gastrula and, later, foetus. During these stages, the cells become
‘specialized’. Either they become skin and bone (ectoderm) or nerves, brain,
muscle (mesoderm) or stomach, liver, etc (endoderm). Once their roles are
known, they have a fixed life-cycle, they fulfil their duties and die, to be
replaced by others. If one has to grow cells for stem-cell treatment, we have
to catch ‘em ‘young’ at a stage when they are still not ‘specialized’.”
Sri Husband: “As of now no factories involved.
Stem-cells are harvested. The nucleus from a stem-cell
is put it into a patient’s kidney or heart-muscle and technology does its magic.”
Me: “Busss.
So that’s how it’s done.”
“I’m sure it’s much more complicated than busss.” Sri Husband, irritated.
Me: “Some parents are preparing for their children’s
future illnesses. They’re storing/freezing their children’s placenta cells.”
Sri Husband: “I guess those who have terrible
hereditary conditions would do anything to spare their offspring the agony.”
Me: “There are people who have stored ‘spare’ embryos
also.”
Sri Husband at his fault-finding best: “For how
long can such embryos stay ‘live’? Or stem-cells? If thawed after a couple of
years, will they be as effective? If many remain unused, stem-cell banks will overflow.
The embryos can’t be stored forever. Who will give consent to destroy them? Who
knows what complications might happen arise after many years?”
Me: “People can ask questions. What are the risks? People
should ask. Like in bone-marrow transplantation and other expensive procedures,
they ask, is the doctor or institution licenced for the treatment? They meet
other patients who were treated. People get in writing what the costs are and
what they include. People are smart.”
It seems there are companies selling (like one
would sell drugs or any medicinal products) processed stem-cells for skin and
some other ailments. They are useful for bad burn cases, I read somewhere.
Sri Husband asked: “What about the various legal,
ethical, religious issues? How much time those discussions take! In-vitro
fertilization (IVF) which has helped so many couples to have children has been
around for years, and is still being debated. What if vulnerable patients (the
poor, women, children, prisoners, the very old) get exploited for research in
the name of science or progress? We know so little.”
“Look,” I said. “Read this. ‘One can clone a person
from stem-cells’. A clone is not a twin. Twins have their own sets of genes. A
clone has a person’s exact gene combination. There can be two of me. It’s
possible.”
Sri Husband snorted: “Nightmarish thought.”
I ignored that. “Only in theory.”
Sri Husband: “If anyone promises to clone you, ask
all the questions you’ve just mentioned.”
He turned the newspaper
and re-read about the young Captain who was paralyzed waist downwards “after an
AK47 bullet ripped through him on September 25, 2012 and injured his vertebrae.”
“He’s a para-commando. He
must have an incredible level of discipline, fitness and strength of mind. And
a knowledgeable and supportive medical team at hand.”
Silence.
For once, Sri Husband and
I were on the same page (literally, too): “The young Captain’s getting back to
rigorous training.”
More silence.
His himmat had humbled us. One can grow a new heart, but how does one
reproduce a zinda-dil insaan?
Feedback:sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in
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