Another modest proposal: why be squeamish about stem cells?

I am crazy about stem cells. They have such investment potential that I had been trying to convince my husband, who loves playing the market, to look into getting some before the price skyrocketed. He said he had to do more research first, but I decided not to delay.

I'll have to confess that the first batch I got was pretty expensive. I had to borrow the money to do it, and it took quite a while before I could find someone willing to sell. But it was totally worth it. I keep them in the deep freeze and take out just the exact amount I need each time.

I bought them initially for my daughter who has a degenerative disorder. We had been told that she might respond to stem-cell treatment, so every day I mix a spoonful in her lentil soup (we are vegetarians, and I can't stand the idea of people killing animals so they can enjoy steak or chicken. The worst is veal! But don't get me started on that) and I can already see some improvement in her general alertness.

At first, of course, I was very strict about using the stems only for the child. They are expensive, after all, and I wanted them to last for as long as possible. And then, there is so much hype about where they come from and all--it seemed, at least in the beginning, that only really crucial situations could justify their use. But one afternoon my older daughter cracked her head on a cupboard door and was in severe pain. I could see the swelling before my eyes, and I suddenly thought, why not? Is she any less important? Maybe they would help her too.

I quickly made a little paste of peanut butter and the stems (they are a bit granular, in case you didn't know) and applied it to the bump. A second later, she looked at me in astonishment and said that the pain had vanished.

Not long after that, my husband was clipping his nails and cut one too deep. Let me try some magic, I thought, and spread a thin film of stems (mixed with olive oil this time; I didn't tell him what it was) over the cut. Within a minute, his nail had grown back.

Well, now I was excited. What else could these cells be used for? But before I started experimenting, I told my husband we just had to stop thinking of stem cells as such a precious commodity. Sure, they were still expensive, but the only way we would really unleash their full potential was to be prepared to take some risks. Were we brave enough, were we generous enough to try?

My husband remained skeptical. He said he wanted to do more research, and I must confess that I have begun to find his attitude a bit tiresome. He is a self-admitted Luddite (he doesn't know how to drive, let alone use a cell phone or a computer) and is always suspicious of new things. But he kept asking where exactly they came from--he had heard something about human embryos being the source--and wanting to know how we would be able to keep up a guaranteed supply if they did turn out to be as marvelous as they now appear. I told him these things were all just details. The important thing was to keep trying new applications. If the need exists, the supply can be organized. Besides, what does it matter where they come from as long as they work?

But, he countered--and this nearly killed me--that he found it unsettling to consider using an embryo's cells to help our daughter. What about the embryo's life? How was our child more important than someone else's? He even said he would give his own stem cells if they would help our daughter. I explained about the difference between an embryo's stem cells and a middle-aged adult's, and pointed out that we were talking about our daughter. But he didn't seem convinced.

Well, there was much of this sort of hesitancy, but while he was worrying about his issues, I kept thinking about the way his nail had grown back. I had also heard about the momentous, noble research being done on stem cells to cure Alzheimer's and Parkinson's--I am all for it--but what about skin tone and suppleness? At forty-seven, I don't mind admitting that things aren't what they used to be in the elasticity department. Why should I look haggard if I don't have to? Is there a law that forty-seven-year-old women have to look raddled and drawn? I don't think so!

One night, while my husband was away, I took a large spoonful of stems (my supply was getting low, but I had already applied for another loan) and mixed them carefully with homemade yogurt, some chick-pea flour, a little salt, and a few other special ingredients. The exact recipe is available on my Web site, and I do accept Visa.

I rubbed this mixture all over my body and went to bed without bathing. In the morning, after my shower, I was amazed to discover that my skin was similar to that of an eighteen-year-old girl. When my husband returned, he found this oddly horrifying, but that was to be expected from him. The important thing was that my experiment had worked.

It is obvious to me that stem cells hold enormous promise for ordinary people like you and me, provided we have the courage to get involved with the research and implementation. Buy a jar, use it liberally, and get past the squeamishness that holds back all scientific progress. I would suggest trying it on toast and using it as shampoo. For those of you with pets, see how they respond to it in their diets. And let all those Luddites know: The well-being of our disabled children and parents will not be held hostage to some individuals' outdated scruples.