written by Jake Ziemba
At noon today, March 9th, 2009, Barack Obama signed an executive order lifting the eight year ban on stem-cell research enacted by George Bush. I was fortunate enough to watch him live on CNN as he did so. My friend Craig was not so lucky. He died late last year after his second unsuccessful stem cell transplant.
My relationship with Craig developed out of coincidence, as most hospital friendships do. I was being treated as an outpatient for acute Graft vs. Host Disease at the same time Craig was receiving his second round of chemotherapy, and fortuitous scheduling put us in the same day hospital room at the same time on multiple occasions. At first we bonded over the basic details of day-to-day hospital life. We shared “What are you in for?” stories, compared blood work and medication regimens, discussed the state of our central IV lines, argued for or against the edibility of the day’s breakfast, etc. As we spent more time together, we shared more of who we’d been in our pre-NIH days. Craig lived in New Jersey. He was a big-rig mechanic. He had a wife and two young daughters he endlessly adored. As big and muscular and physically imposing as he was, despite being in the midst of chemotherapy, there was a sweetness to Craig that was genuinely charming. His extensive time in the hospital hadn’t hardened him the way I had seen it harden others.
Anybody who’s spent a significant amount of time in the hospital knows that time rarely behaves as it does in the outside world. It slows and accelerates of its own volition. As a result, my friendship with Craig matured much more quickly than it otherwise might have. It didn’t take us long to reach the stage where long periods of silence were peaceful, not awkward. We would turn on CNN and eat breakfast and watch as our IV bags drained into our bodies. One of the biggest challenges a hospital inpatient faces is enduring great stretches of time in which absolutely nothing happens. Sharing Craig’s company helped pass the hours for me. I hope I had a similar effect on him.
After a few weeks, I started to improve, but Craig did not. As I gradually spent less and less time at the day hospital, I saw less and less of Craig. I once bumped into him a few months later in the waiting room of the Hematology-Oncology clinic. His hair had grown back, thick and blond, but bodily, he was wasting away. He was clearly in pain, and it took great effort for him to lift his face out of his hands. Still, when he saw me, he smiled. His smile hadn’t changed at all. That which was killing his body held no dominion over his spirit.
That was the last time I ever saw Craig. I heard from another friend at NIH that he died of Graft vs. Host complications a few months later. To this day I deeply regret that I didn’t learn of his passing in time to attend his funeral.
I am not a doctor. I don’t know enough of Craig’s illness or his treatment protocol to say whether an extra half-decade or so of stem-cell research could’ve saved him. However, I can say with certainty that it wouldn’t have hurt him, and that it would’ve helped others in similar circumstances. Those who object to stem-cell research do so on the basis that it destroys embryos that have the potential to develop into human life. Craig WAS a human life. There is, in my opinion, a very good chance that Craig would still be alive today if not for the ban on stem-cell research. It is noble to be concerned with the welfare of those that might be among us tomorrow, but common sense and compassion dictate that priority be given to the health and well-being of those among us today. When the hypothetical takes precedence over the literal, we find ourselves sacrificing husbands and fathers to support the existence of cell-clusters. Stem-cell research is not a political issue, it’s a human life issue, and in such matters, there is always a right and wrong answer; the right answer being the one that reduces the death and suffering of fellow human beings. In reversing the ban on stem-cell research, Barack Obama has chosen the right answer. I am proud to call him my president.