1. BODY OF STONE
Created on Thursday, 07 March 2013 10:00 | Written by Geoff Pursinger |
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Tigard man turns to stem cell treatment to battle disease that twisted up his life
When Erion Moore II was
in college, his friend’s
called him “Big Chocolate.”
Standing 6-foot-6, and
sporting an impressive afro,
Moore was well known at
Southern Oregon University
for his skills on the
basketball court.
But today, the 29-year-old
Tigard resident is almost
unrecognizable from the
athlete in his heyday.
He went from racing across
a basketball court to being
unable to stand, bathe
by: TIMES PHOTO: JONATHAN HOUSE - Erion Moore works with himself or drive. It is
physical therapist Katie Carr to regain strength after a stem cell transplant difficult for him to open his
to help with his scleroderma, a rare disease that causes the skin to harden. mouth. He is unable to
move his fingers, which
have curled into balls.
A few years ago his knuckles burst like split sausages from the pressure on his skin.
“If I had a small knick or scratches it would just open up,” Moore said. “A cut would go down to the
bone because everything is so tight.”
Moore was diagnosed in 2008 with a rare auto-immune disease called scleroderma. It is a crippling and
deadly disease with no cure that results in a hardening of the skin and internal organs
But after living with the disease for six years, Moore believes he has found a way to get his life back.
Working with doctors at Northwestern University’s Feinberg School of Medicine in Chicago, Moore
underwent a risky stem cell transplant that could, if successful, give him back what he wants most: His
body.
Unlike a normally functioning immune system, Moore’s immune system causes cells to produce too
much collagen in the skin and organs, which harden and thicken.
“It’s attacking your own body,” Moore said. “Your own body doesn’t recognize you.”
But when it comes to scleroderma patients, Moore is one of the lucky ones. The disease attacks the skin
and internal organs, but Moore’s internal organs remained untouched.

2. Moore’s transplant is part of an ongoing study at Northwestern involving stem cell transplants in
autoimmune diseases.
Moore’s doctor, Richard Burt, made headlines in 2010 for similar
stem cell work with people with Type 1 Diabetes. It’s an
experimental and potentially dangerous procedure, leaving patients
open to infection. Stem cells were removed from Moore’s
bloodstream, and Moore was treated with chemotherapy for about a
week, which killed his existing immune system. When the stem cells
were returned to Moore’s body, they rebuilt themselves into a
functioning immune system.
At least, that’s the plan.
by: SUBMITTED PHOTO -
“It kind of gives the immune system a cease fire,” said Carol Burns, Moore poses with his doctors in
a clinical research nurse with the school’s division of immunotherapyChicago after his stem cell
and autoimmune diseases in Chicago, which treated Moore. “It transplant.
tamps down the immune system so that the things that bothered it
originally are no longer relevant and you have a health-immune system.”
The excess collagen stops, and with a healthy new immune system, Burns said, the body is able to
return to normal.
Because the procedure kills the immune system before rebuilding it, it leaves patients open to infection.
Moore said a few doctors and friends told him to reconsider at first because of the risks involved.
On Social Security, Moore had help from friends and family to raise enough money to go to
Chicago for the transplant last year.
Morre has to visit Chicago for two checkups this year, and has set up a website where
friends and family can pitch in on airfare and hotel accomodations for his trips.
“I told them, ‘This is not for me,’ ” Moore said. “If in the future there is someone who can’t handle this
condition, then I contributed to the study that might save their life. And knowing that I had chance to
get better and a few days of chemo was the only thing I had to do? I could handle that.”
So far, 96 patients have
gone through the procedure
at Northwestern. All have
seen major improvements,
Burns said.
“We have transplanted
people who could only get
around in a wheelchair and
were in really rough shape,”
Burns said. “One woman is
a lawyer now. She’s doing
well and walking.”
‘I know I am getting
better’
Moore first noticed ulcers
by: TIMES PHOTO: JONATHAN HOUSE - Physical therapist Katie Carr
helps Erion Moore claps a walker during physical therarpy at Schools
Immediate Care Clinic in Tigard.

3. on his hands in 2006 but thought nothing of it. In time, though, he saw other signs. Playing basketball
with friends he wasn’t able to dunk — something he had no problem with before.
“I knew something was wrong,” he said. “I couldn’t run or jump.”
A shot-blocker on the court, he was suddenly unable to stop people from getting past him.
“This guy, he was 6-foot-3, he dunked on me,” he said. “That’s never happened before.”
He took yoga and palates to increase his flexibility, but it kept getting worse. Moore worked at a
probation camp for juvenile offenders, but wasn’t able to keep his job as his health deteriorated.
After his diagnosis he couldn’t afford the expensive medications and ended up in the hospital with
ulcers in his stomach.
He developed acid reflux disease and vitiligo, a condition where his arms developed discolored pink
splotches.
By 2010 he walked with a cane and could barely lift himself off a chair.
“I was completely hunched over looking at my feet when I walked,” Moore said. “Everything’s so
contracted. If I looked up, the skin from my chin would pull down to my stomach. That’s how tight it
was. I couldn’t lay flat, I couldn’t turn over.”
A year later he relied on a motorized scooter to get around.
By 2012, he had to have a caregiver come to help him get up, shower, and make him meals.
“There was one day I got stuck in bed,” he said. “Last year was the
most aggressive year for me. I couldn’t reach inside the fridge, or
reach the thermostat.”
He went from 190 pounds when he was first diagnosed to 130 when
he arrived in Chicago.
Moore said he expects to see at least 70 percent of his mobility come
back and has already seen improvements
“Three days after transplant my skin started to loosen,” Moore said.
“It’s still loosening, and it will probably go back to normal over by: TIMES PHOTO:
time.” JONATHAN HOUSE - Erion
Moore chats with his physical
After the transplant, Moore says his next step is to regain the strengththerapist Katie Carr during an
of his atrophied limbs. office visit. 'I want to do seven
“I can stand up, but I don’t have the strength to hold it,” he said. “I days a week [of therapy] if I can.
couldn’t open my mouth before.” At least six,' says Moore.
He does two days of physical therapy a week, and exercises at home twice a day. He has hand braces to
see if he can uncurl his fingers.
Moore knows he likely will never play basketball again, but he wants to at least be able to get back to
work.
“I want to work with juvenile or adult offenders again, but I want to be in more physical shape,” he
said. “There may be a few careers I could see myself in, but that’s something I know I want.”
Moore has a special incentive to get better. His best friend is getting married this summer, and Moore
said he wants to walk down the aisle as a groomsman.
“I’m not in nobody’s wedding in a scooter,” he said. “If I need a cane I’ll be there. I won’t ride down

4. the aisle in my scooter with my date on the front of the handle bars like in elementary school.”
Moore lives alone in his Tigard apartment but said he has never let the limitations of his disease get
him down.
“I have no time to get depressed,” Moore said. “When I first found out about the transplant I said, ‘I’ll
get better after that.’ Now all I can think about is getting better. It keeps me focused. I can’t get
depressed; I know I am getting better.”

5. the aisle in my scooter with my date on the front of the handle bars like in elementary school.”
Moore lives alone in his Tigard apartment but said he has never let the limitations of his disease get
him down.
“I have no time to get depressed,” Moore said. “When I first found out about the transplant I said, ‘I’ll
get better after that.’ Now all I can think about is getting better. It keeps me focused. I can’t get
depressed; I know I am getting better.”

6. the aisle in my scooter with my date on the front of the handle bars like in elementary school.”
Moore lives alone in his Tigard apartment but said he has never let the limitations of his disease get
him down.
“I have no time to get depressed,” Moore said. “When I first found out about the transplant I said, ‘I’ll
get better after that.’ Now all I can think about is getting better. It keeps me focused. I can’t get
depressed; I know I am getting better.”