I am still marveling at the color copies of my SPECT brain scan, although somewhat in disbelief. My passion for photography does not come close to producing pictures like the ones that manifested from last week’s scan, just days before I left India. In fact, I could not intentionally capture colors so vivid, or an image so real and telling of an illness that has now officially lost its battle, little by little and day by day since my first stem cell injection December 11, 2007. I hold in my hands not only pretty pictures; but proof so substantial that I dare to invite even the most mainstream, by-the-book, anti-embryonic-stem-cells-because-it-just-can’t-be-if-I-didn’t-invent-it-doctor, to contest.

When I got to Delhi in December of last year, my brain scan revealed three lesions in the frontal lobe of my brain (both sides). That was two more than I had after the torturously aggressive treatment in the U.S. to try to stop the progression of Chronic Lyme Disease, and subsequently, the degeneration of almost every body system in my 28-year-old being (including my brain tissue). The embryonic stem cell treatment has now completely demolished two lesions, and near but eradicated the last one. I study the images of my brain trying to locate the last part of the one remaining lesion. It’s improved beyond recognition, so much so that I’m having a hard time deciphering where its exact location is.

The part that stuns me the most I suppose, is that I left Delhi with two lesions in February of this year. One disappeared during my two-month treatment there. But consistent with the research that embryonic stem cells continue to work for months and years, they were repairing my body long after I left India and stopped receiving daily stem cells shots.

Dr. Geeta Shroff’s embryonic stem cells are the future of treating incurable and terminal illness. Like it or not Western world, here they come. You can try to slow down this remarkable technology, but you can’t stop it. And if you ever met the two doctors behind this, you’d silently laugh at anyone who thought otherwise.

After failing the mini-round of IV antibiotics due to boycotting veins in India, we decided a month of oral antibiotics would suffice. This is just to make sure the infection stays under control, if there is any still left at all. I hate the pills and the pills I have to take to make sure those pills don’t hurt me (my liver, kidneys, etc.). And I despise worrying that my stomach will just one day decide it hates me, enough to fall completely apart. But, I have this healthy, vibrant, functioning body and the inconvenience of the medication is a small price to pay for big “insurance.” I feel like sometimes I’m holding on so tight that I’ll crush the mere possibility out of a far-fetched theory that this disease could ever do again to me, what it once did.

This might just be the shortest blog post in the world for a girl as wordy as me. But, what can I say? My overcomplicated life has become so simple that it takes less and less words to describe.

And in all fairness, compared to the indisputable proof that embryonic stem cells regenerated an otherwise progressively degenerating 20-something-year-old brain -- does anything else really even matter?