What to expect on the day of IV stem cells, from someone who still does them

I’ve had IV stem cells more times than I can neatly count, starting ten years ago, and I’m at the clinic on most days when other people have theirs. So this page doesn’t come from a brochure. It covers the week before, the chair, the evening after, and the weeks that follow, including the stretch where you may feel nothing at all.

Why the people I meet came in

The people I sit and talk with on treatment days come for all sorts of reasons. Some have joints that have been sore for years. Some have backs or necks that keep them out of the gym. Some are tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix, or are still getting over a long illness. Some come about their skin or their hair. And a fair number are like I was: nothing wrong that they know of, they’re just getting older and would rather look after the body they have. I’m not telling you it helps with any of these. What I’m telling you is who is sitting in the next chair. If there’s a particular body part you’re thinking about, those pages go into it properly: joints and back, skin and face, hair.

Before the day: the conversation comes first

Nobody goes straight to the chair. It starts with a doctor going through your medical history, what’s bothering you now, and what you’re hoping for. Sometimes bloodwork or a scan gets asked for, so they can check how your organs are working and rule out anything that means you shouldn’t go ahead. Then there’s a briefing before you sign anything: where the cells come from and how they’re handled, what they might do and what they won’t, and what the day and the days after will look like.

The cells come from umbilical cord tissue. Every batch is tested before it’s used, and they’re given fresh, within hours of leaving the lab, never frozen. I’ve written about why I care about that on the main stem cells page. What it means for your day is simple: the cells are prepared for you, for that date. Fresh cells only last a short time, so they can’t sit on a shelf waiting for someone to reschedule.

The instructions I was given, before

This is what I was handed before my first time, and I’ve had the same list every time since:

No smoking, no alcohol and no hard exercise in the week leading up to it.
Tell them straight away if you think you’re coming down with something, even a cold.
Sleep more than seven hours the night before.
The day before, skip oily food, a lot of sugar, and soft drinks.
On the day, no stimulants: no coffee, no energy drinks, no alcohol, no cordyceps.
Tell them if you take anything that thins your blood, like aspirin.

I followed every line, and the first line wasn’t easy. I was a heavy smoker back then, all my adult life. I did it anyway. That’s what I did. Your doctor will give you your own list.

The day itself

The cells go in through a slow drip, about 45 to 60 minutes. There’s no anaesthetic and no surgery. You sit or lie back, and a nurse keeps an eye on you the whole time. Honestly, there was nothing special about it for me. It felt like any other drip. I mostly talked to whoever was in the chair next to me, and that’s still what I do.

What people ask me about most is the needle. Plenty of the people I’ve met told me they’d been dreading it, some with a real phobia of needles, and nearly all of them said afterwards they barely felt it going into the vein. One man told me the cells arrived just as he sat down. You’re welcome to bring someone with you. Plenty of people do.

Some people do it as part of a few days here, with other things around it, NAD+ for example. That plan comes from the doctor, not from me. I’ve written about NAD+ separately.

The evening after

After my own drips I’ve been sleepy and wanted to rest. I’ve had a low fever. And that first time, ten years ago, I could breathe fully straight away. That part I felt the same day. Everyone is different, and I was fine is not the same sentence as you’ll be fine.

The explanation I was given is that some short-lived effects are common in the first day or two: tiredness for a few hours, mild aches or chills, a low-grade fever, and less often a headache or feeling lightheaded. They usually settle within 24 to 48 hours without medication. Most people go back to their hotel after a short rest, with no overnight stay, and do light things that same day or the next morning. If you have questions about side effects, I’ve collected the ones I get asked on Safety questions I get asked.

The instructions I was given, after

Nothing fried or oily for three days.
Plenty of protein and plenty of water. The explanation I was given is that the cells need the energy.
The first week, no training and nothing that risks an injury. Normal daily life is fine. The second week, ease back in. The reason I was given is that the cells are there to repair what you already have, not to spend themselves on a new injury.
Stay out of crowds as much as you can in the first days, because that’s where infections go around.
Flying home within one to two days is usual.

I’m a gym person, so the first week is the hard one for me. I do it anyway. Your doctor will give you your own list.

The weeks after: two clocks

The explanation I was given is that change comes on two clocks. Some people notice early things in two to three weeks, sometimes sooner. The bigger changes are slower, one to three months, and they depend on your age, what you came in with, how you live and how your immune system is doing. What people tell me they notice, when they notice something, is usually energy, sleep, stiffness, skin, or how clear their head feels.

Not everyone gets everything. One man wrote to me five weeks in, point by point: his lungs were clearer, his feet a bit better, his hands a little better, and his lower back no better at all. A man who came two years after a stroke told me that at one month nothing much had changed. Another man who was already very fit, very disciplined, told me he didn’t get the dramatic results he’d watched in someone with a lot more wrong with him. I’d rather you hear these from me now than be surprised later. There are more of their stories on People I have met.

If you feel nothing at all

I’ve had rounds where I felt nothing. So I understand the question.

The explanation I was given goes like this. People with several health problems usually notice most, because more of their body wasn’t working properly, so they feel the change when it comes back. If you’re already quite healthy, not feeling anything straight away doesn’t mean nothing happened. A lot of it depends on how closely you watch your own body.

Your cells die off every day, in the millions, and you don’t notice. You only notice years later, when things start to work less well. So it isn’t strange that you don’t notice when new ones are built either. What you can feel is the tip of the iceberg.

The way it was put to me: think of a long crack in your bedroom wall. You never noticed it, because you’re busy and the room is usually dark. Then someone comes and fills it with cement and paints over it. The wall isn’t bigger or taller, so you might not notice any of it. But the wall has been repaired and will look good for another ten years.

I remember a woman who’d had hip pain for a long time. After her treatment, the pain eased a lot within a few weeks. On the surface that’s just less pain. The explanation I was given is that the inflammation behind it was dealt with, in the hip and anywhere else in the body it was needed, and none of that made any noise.

You won’t feel healing in your kidneys, your liver or your heart. Pain isn’t how those organs talk to you. But rest assured, the healing process is happening silently and effectively.

I was also told that the more unwell someone is, the more obvious the change tends to be. For people in good health it may not be noticeable, and the earlier you do it, the better. That matches how I started. I thought I was healthy. I only found out what I’d lost by getting a piece of it back.

Who I was told can’t do it

These are the reasons I’ve been told someone would be turned away, or asked to wait:

An active infection, for example ongoing diarrhoea, a bad skin infection, or an uncontrolled virus like active hepatitis.
Active cancer.
Pregnancy, and the first six months after giving birth.
An autoimmune disease that is active and not under control. Wait until it settles.
Expectations nobody can meet.

That last one is on the list for a reason, and this page is my part of dealing with it.

Do I still do it?

Yes. I still have IV stem cells in rounds, ten years after the first one. Everything that repairs you is already in you. The way I see it, this is giving it some help.

Questions people ask me

Do I have to stay overnight? No. People go back to their hotel after a short rest. I was told to avoid anything strenuous for the first 24 hours.

Can I fly after? Most people I know flew home or kept travelling within one to two days.

Does it hurt? For me it felt like any drip. Most people I’ve met say the needle was the only part they noticed, and even that was barely there.

How soon will I notice anything? Some people notice early changes in two to three weeks. The explanation I was given is that the fuller picture takes one to three months. And some people, me on some rounds, don’t feel it at all. Read the section above.

Can I train afterwards? Not in the first week. Ease back in during the second.

Can I bring someone? Yes, and plenty of people do.

If you want to talk through what your day would look like, message me.

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I’m George. Thirty years in business, then ten years trying this whole field on myself before offering it to anyone else.

This is where I write down what I use, what I stopped using, and what I’d never do again. More about me →

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