Amanda Back In India For Stem Cells

May 6th, 2008 at 08:01pm Amanda Boxtel 18

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Stem Cells for Dessert

As hard as it might be for some of you to believe, I am awake and typing away on my computer at 5:30 am.  I have a fresh cup o’ Peet’s French Roast by my side, a candle burns casting a soft golden glow on my keyboard, jasmine incense fill the air, and as much as I’d like to describe a lovely pink hue on the horizon, Delhi is displaying its best gray!  Upon a second look, there are different shades of gray, and if I really use my imagination with my watercolorist’s eye, there might even be a touch of lavender here and there.  If my memory serves me correctly, Delhi can actually produce some quite spectacular sunrises and sunsets because (yes, you guessed it) smog has the propensity to bring out gorgeous dusty oranges and crimson reds (but not this morning!). 

My laptop (and faithful connection to the outside world) rests against my bed.  My comfy orange and pink patterned pajama top is all I have on as I sit in the cool of the air conditioner. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I have the A/C set to 17°C (the coolest it will go and one degree off from the expected high of 18°C or 65°F for home in Basalt, Colorado).  Delhi will reach a ripping 41°C (105.8°F), which is two degrees cooler than yesterday’s whopping 43°C (109.4°F) high for the season so far.  The Times of India encourages people to stay indoors during this little heat wave, as even the tar on the pavement softens underfoot.  The heat depletes my energy and causes me to catch my breath.  My skin has already broken out in a prickly heat rash with red splotches.  I inhale Delhi’s stench in short bursts.  As soon as I exited the airplane’s door last Friday night into the jet-way tunnel after a two-day journey across the miles, I smelled that all-too-familiar waft of sweaty armpits as fifty Indian men gazed down on my blonde wearisome head.  Jet-lagged and bedraggled, I was still a sight for Indian eyes unafraid to hold a glare at my tangled blonde strands of hair.  Indian’s body odor is unique and unforgettable.

At 1 am I woke with a racing heartbeat to a loud catfight that pieced the still of the night.  Just a few horn honks were barely audible over the constant drone of the air con.  There was actually a sprinkle of rain last evening—literally a few droplets are a rarity for the month of May.  I am back in this hotter-than-one-can-begin-to-conceive city with a metropolitan population stretching to 22 million just beyond my windows.  Each morning I witness the same Indian guy with messed-up jet-black hair and a white singlet covering his chest who brushes his teeth on the roof atop the neighboring building.  As he peers at me, I stare back trusting that my windows are tinted in a reflective coating to deflect penetrating eyes from unsuspecting neighbors.  I choose to give him the benefit of the doubt that his behavior isn’t voyeuristic.  There is a more-than-likely possibility that he might catch me stark naked from his secret vantage point, but instead I accept that his gaze is an innocent act of peering out yonder while performing his morning ritual. 

For two-and-a-half days I have caved up in Room 208’s cocoon at Nu Tech Mediworld.  I am by myself and while I am alone, I embrace this space and time to enter back into the hospital’s womb.  Like a caterpillar encased in its silken armor, I am protected from the chaos that bellows outside the hospital’s walls, as I gestate in my newly pregnant embryonic stem cell body.  So far, I have had six stem cell injections and one intravenous shot of a gazillion stem cells. I have also had blood drawn to check my prolactin levels, and an ultrasound check on my abdomen.  On Wednesday, May 7^th I will have my first caudal procedure in the operating theater at the older hospital located at Gataum Nagar.   

My schedule for the month is as follows:

·         2 HESC injections per day

·         Mondays and Tuesdays:  HESCs administered intravenously in higher dosages

·         May 7^th:  Caudal Procedure—one day spinal procedure

·         May 12^th:  Lumbar Puncture Procedure—an overnight two-day procedure that has the susceptibility to cause a horrible migraine headache (and fingers crossed God-forbidding…no vomiting!)

·         May 17^th:  Deep Spinal Muscle Procedure

·         May 21—May 23:  Three-day Epidural Caudal Procedure

Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish were kind enough to give me my schedule in advance, so hopefully we have a plan which will give me enough recuperation time to leave on my June 2^nd departure date.

When I arrived on Friday night I admit that I was filled with the raw emotion of being by myself and anxious about the forthcoming treatment.  Delhi is not easy.  I am challenged often and my emotions rollercoaster with anticipation of what might be.  I wonder how my body will change and if I will show any radical improvements.  I then tell myself to let go of all expectations and simply “roll” with flow.  What will be will be.  My mind is set, my body is as prepared as it will be, and my spirit is calm.  I am a million miles away from all those who I love and hold close to my heart, y et I rejoice that I am here.  India is a gift.  I am surrounded by my endearing Indian family and a community of phenomenal patients and caregivers who are filled with hope.  Optimism reigns over this jewel in Delhi.  The incurable show improvements with tiny miracles taking place daily.  It is this optimism that infuses me with energy and instills the hope deep inside my gut.  I notice that returning to this hospital is more than daily shots of human embryonic stem cells.  Belief is here without doubt.  An air of sanguinity exudes from every patient, physical therapist, nurse, doctor, receptionist, ward boy, or doorman.  Optimism becomes my drug. 

I feed my soul reminding myself why I have travelled half way around the world to continue plodding along my path.  I am motivated to work hard.  I watch the other patients who are all striving for something better…that something being a better quality of life. 

That’s what it boils down to, and a better quality of life is different for each and every one of us.  For Leah, it is to toss away her cane and walk “normally” and gracefully, free of muscle spasms and pain.  For eighteen-year-old Elaine it is combating her Lyme Disease and regaining energy.  For me, quality of life means regaining any new sensation or muscle power in my lower extremities.  For the motor neurone patients (ALS) who are literally fighting for life, quality can only mean stabilizing their disease and then hopefully regaining strength (or the ability to breathe, lift a limb, write, or voice “I love you.”).  For Perry, a C-2 quadriplegic from Australia, quali ty means getting rid of his ventilator forever and breathing on his own.  It is all possible.  I am witness to what the naysayers believe to be the impossible.  Each time I am immersed into this world away from the comforts of my home, I feel like the most blessed individual on Earth.

My precious yoga instructor and friend Emily Hightower arrives on Saturday evening.  Em is braving India to be my caregiver while she leaves behind her little boy, Oz, and her husband, Brian.  Here’s a slice of Emily’s enthusiasm from a recent email, which is truly infectious: 

“Oh my amazing, incredible, blessing of a friend! I CAN’T WAIT TO COME TO INDIA!!! INDIA INDIA INDIA INDIA…..I think about it all the time…. I am feeling so ready, and so perfectly tuned into the trip with you, and you’re letter brings to light all of the reasons I am so blessed to get to be with you on such an amazing adventure…. I love you SO SO SO SO MUCH!!!!!  You are a goddess.  And I am eager to get going on this trip….my mom came yesterday and brought me a new luggage piece like I’ve never had, and I’m already packed!  So look out, blondy!  I’m heading to YOU!  and I’m bringing all of my massage oils, aromatherapy, facial kit….foot stuff….why not?  Let’s turn NuTech Mediworld into a spa!  See you soon sister, Em”

I cannot wait to have Emily in this space so she can bear witness to the miracles, hopes, and living dreams that are taking place in this universe away.  After Emily, I will have my friend Judy for a full two weeks—Yeah!  I am so fortunate!

For now, it’s off to have my dessert after breakfast…a shot of stem cells.  Then an hour of physical therapy with Chavi, lunch in my room, more physical therapy and possibly standing in my leg braces.

With love as always. 

Namaste, Amanda xoxo

Entry Filed under: Snowmass, Pitkin County, Legal, Politics, Spirituality, People, Health, Women, United Post, Colorado, The West