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Written by: Rita Cormulley

Category: Letters

Published: 01 January 2024

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Thanks largely to a stem cell transplant, Ross Smith of Edinburg is alive and well. But Ross, who is 21, received the type of stem cell transplant that does not draw presidential vetoes, ignite ethical firestorms or pit Bush against Blagojevich.

It all began in December 2003 with blurred vision and the fact that Ross was as pale as the cream-colored walls in the house where he lives with his parents, Mark and Linda. The diagnosis was childhood leukemia. Ross was a freshman at Lincoln Christian College in Lincoln and a month away from turning 19.

A stem cell transplant became a necessity when doctors found out Ross had the Philadelphia chromosome. The chromosome makes leukemia particularly aggressive and fast-moving. Fifteen years ago, people with the chromosome had a 15 percent chance of survival. But that was before stem cell transplant technology and a drug called Gleevec.

It also helped that Ross had the right stuff.

"Ross is just a nice kid," said his doctor, Gregory Brandt. "He's a tough kid from the farm in rural Edinburg. He never complained about anything. We'd have to do all sorts of nasty things to him and he would say, 'Do what you gotta do, doc.'"

Those "nasty things" included surgically implanting a port in his chest and a tube in his arm for taking out blood and putting in medicine and melting his insides with radiation.

A good high school athlete, Ross felt well enough to play baseball in spring 2005 for Lincoln Christian College. He was playing second base when a hitter ripped a line drive at him. It got past his glove and slammed into his chest - directly on the implanted port. A one in a million shot. Ross stayed in the game.

"My arm went numb for about three hours afterward," he said. It also earned him a nickname: Port.

In May 2004, doctors at Cardinal Glennon Children's Medical Center in St. Louis gave Ross stem cells drawn from the bone marrow of an anonymous donor - someone who had signed up on a national donor registry and whose stem cells matched Ross'. His sister, Allison, was going to donate, but she wasn't quite the match the other donor was.

The Smiths have filled out the paperwork to learn the donor's identity but, so far, have heard nothing. That could be because the donor has not completed the paperwork or because he or she does not wish to be known.
Ross' body regenerated itself completely after the transplant. He spent six weeks at Cardinal Glennon. He lost a year of school and went through hell, but it seems worth it. Doctors have taken out what they put in. The port in his chest was the last to go, on June 12. His buddies will have to find a new nickname.

He will remain on Gleevec (a nickname contender?) for three more years. If he can go that long without a recurrence of leukemia, he will be considered cured, though the family said Brandt told them to wait five years just to be sure.

It is embryonic stem cells, not bone marrow, that caused President Bush to issue the first veto of his presidency. Gov. Rod Blagojevich took the opposite tack Thursday, when he directed $5 million to fund further research on the potential medical use of stem cells, including the embryonic variety. Last year, it was $10 million.

Using stem cells from embryos has a big medical advantage over other forms because embryonic stem cells may grow into any type of tissue. Adult stem cells, from sources such as bone marrow, are regarded as more restrictive in their potential. The argument is whether using embryonic stem cells is destruction of life. Bush says yes. Blagojevich says no. What does Ross Smith say?

Among the three, Ross has the most at stake. He has seen what stem cell transplants can do. He has lived it. This fall, he will not be hospitalized. He will play some baseball. This winter, it's intramural basketball.
And so I asked him The Question. "If they had told you the only way to make you better was to use embryonic stem cells instead of adult bone marrow stem cells, would you have gone through with it?"

It seems a simple question, but it isn't. There are nuances, shadings, spins, repercussions and dimensions. But his answer was unequivocal.

"No way. I'd have turned that one down and just stayed with the other treatments."