If Dr. Tracy Grikscheit’s work prevails, one day the world may know something most of us never think about— how to improve defective intestines. Why would we want to do such a thing? To save a baby’s life. First, consider the problem. A premature infant may weigh 500 grams. Born too soon, their intestines may
In 1951, I was six years old and living in a hospital bed. I had asthma/bronchitis, which may not sound like much, nowadays. But every inhalation was a separate wheezing effort, and a choice: to struggle and breathe, or relax and die. There were injections of adrenaline which burned like liquid fire, and experimental drugs
As a child, I once tripped and fell while carrying a long thin bamboo rod. When I hit the ground, the stick penetrated my right eye. I put my hand up to my face and it came back full of blood. The hospital put a piratical patch on the injured eye. In a few days
Let’s talk clinical trials, ALS, and California funding for stem cell research
When my son Roman Reed was first paralyzed, and lying in the hospital bed, he developed a pressure sore on his right heel: harmless-looking, at first, just a black spot the size of a dime. But the darkness grew, spreading until it covered his foot, and higher. The doctor prescribed “moon boots” to take the
Did you ever wonder how you hear, and what would happen if you couldn’t? Deep within the ear, in the snail-shaped cochlea, 30,000 hair cells rest in a bath of liquid. When noise occurs, the hair cells tremble slightly. This sends vibrations to the brain, which translates them as sound. When these hair cells wear
In the days since Stem Cell Awareness Day, we are more inspired than ever in our fight for treatments and cures. That inspiration is thanks to people like you. We asked you to tell us why stem cell research gave you hope, and your replies remind all of us at Americans for Cures why we
I was walking across my high school football field one day, when the boy in front of me suddenly fell to the ground. He went down hard; then writhed around violently, as if wrestling with himself. I just stood there, holding my schoolbooks, no idea what to do. Presently the contortions calmed. He lay there
“Would you want to live forever?”, asked Gloria, beloved wife of nearly half a century. At 72, I consider myself middle-aged. My father, Dr. Charles H. Reed, is 95 and plays tennis three times a week and is reading the Bible in French. He is conversant in 12 languages, and once wrote an education dictionary
