When Lara told me she was contributing her time and energy to “The Ninth Floor” project, a branding campaign to created public awareness of the benefits of stem cell research through a universal symbol, I felt that it couldn’t be any timelier. This issue had indirectly touched my life in the most unexpected way I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

On a recent visit in May to my doctor’s office for my annual physical, I had some blood drawn for a CBC, or Complete Blood Count, mainly to check cholesterol levels. I left feeling confident that the test results would prove, yet again, that I was in good health. Three weeks later, I received my blood test results which indicated something entirely different.

I returned to the doctor for another blood test, this time with “differentials," a detailed breakdown of cells and platelets. My white cell count was dangerously low, which left me with essentially no immune system to fight off even a common cold. I had no symptoms of anything except a rising anxiety level over this new information about my immune system. The next day, I came home from work to a message on my voicemail from my doctor. She informed me that my blood test showed some signs for concern and she was referring me immediately to a specialist at the Hematology/Oncology center for further tests.

I’m a relatively healthy person. I rarely get colds, even when everyone around me is bed ridden for a week with the flu. I don’t even get headaches. My health is not something I really spend much time thinking about because it's typically in working order. I was starting to get just a little freaked out by this appointment with a clinic that deals essentially with treating people for cancer.

I did the next logical thing I could think of; I Googled “low white cell counts.” The information that came back contained numerous links to medical websites using terms such as “neutrophils, lymphocytes, and monocytes.” As I began to read, I realized that these were terms relating to the diagnosis for Leukemia, Lymphoma or Hodgekins.

My time spent in the Hematology/Oncology clinic was life changing. I had 5 vials of blood drawn and filled out a 4 page questionnaire containing every bodily function imaginable, some things that you wouldn’t willingly share with your spouse, never mind a stranger.

While waiting for my test results and consultation, I eventually became aware of the other patients there with whom I was waiting. They varied, not unlike a group of strangers on a crowded subway car or a grocery store check out line, except they all shared one thing – the cancer that was destroying their organs, bones or blood.

For the next three hours, I was one of "them." Age and race varied, but what was most apparent was that they were thin and moved slowly from exhaustion. Some wore hats to cover their hair loss and others wore surgical masks to protect themselves from germs. I was overwhelmed with compassion and sadness, for them, and now for my own health. I could not quiet my mind from thinking, “what if I was suddenly one of them, desperately fighting to be healthy again?” Death, a common fear we all experience remotely until we are faced with something such as cancer, which makes it much more personal and immediate in a way that is simply unimaginable otherwise.

I returned home later that night to another message on my voicemail from my doctor. She had left her pager number for me to call - not a promising sign of the blood tests taken earlier at the clinic. She returned my page, informing me that I had some irregular cells and they were going to need to do a bone marrow biopsy as soon as next week. I can't begin to describe the thoughts and emotions I had to contend with during the days leading up to the procedure.

The following Friday morning, I returned for a bone marrow biopsy, apparently the only way to know for certain if my cells were a result of a cancer related dysfunction. I was beyond terrified. I’d never been through anything more than a couple of hours of dental work for a crown. After I was checked in and assigned my white plastic wrist band, the nurse hooked me up to an IV, as I graciously welcomed the blissful state that a shot liquid Demerol provided me. The doctor told me that this is going to hurt and that there is really no way to get around it. Great. I remember thinking how surreal and absurd my situation seemed as they put on a Billie Holiday cd to "relax me" and then inserted what looked like an ice pick into my hip to remove a piece of bone for the biopsy. As I took slow, deep breaths, I remember thinking how certain I was that my alarm clock would go off at that moment, waking me up in the safety of my bed, relieved that this was one hell of a strange dream. And perhaps my denial that this was reality is how I got through such a God awful procedure.

As of today, I have been cleared of any cancer related illness. I am relieved and grateful that for now, I am still healthy, something I will never take for granted again. What I discovered while going through this experience is how critical it is to make people more aware of the potential of what stem cells can do if the scientific and medical research is unrestricted and fully supported by federal funds. Stem cells can be used to generate healthy bone marrow for transplants in people with Leukemia; one of the numerous ways that scientists are learning how stem cells can improve the quality of life as well as sustain it.

My experience is just one of the thousands occurring each day, many leading up to a confirmed diagnosis of cancer. Stem cells can greatly contribute to saving the lives of countless cancer patients. We all have an immediate reason to support creating massive awareness of the tremendous benefits of stem cell research – your own life might depend on it one day.