Brian Johnson, 45, is a tech entrepreneur.
As far as fun family activities go, it’s out there.
On April 3, tech entrepreneur Brian Johnson, 45, arrives at a healthcare clinic near Dallas with his 70-year-old father Richard and 17-year-old son Talmage. They arrive early in the morning, and over the course of several hours, the men (and boys) engage in a three-generation swap of their blood plasma.
Talmage goes in first, has a liter of her blood extracted and run through a machine to convert its fragmented parts—a batch of liquid plasma and then a batch of red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. Brian then undergoes the same procedure followed by an additional procedure in which his son’s plasma is infused into his own vein. Richard eventually goes and receives Brian’s plasma after making room for the fluid by draining his own blood.
At this point, you probably have a lot of questions. One can be: is it so “Blood Boy” Cheese, And yes, it’s just like Blood Boy.
There’s a longstanding public fascination with tales of wealthy techno types injecting themselves with the precious bodily fluids of young people. Experiments in rats have suggested that older rodents experience a rejuvenating effect by absorbing the life force of their younger counterparts. Inspired by these results, some have opted to experiment on themselves and tap into this fiendish-sounding fountain of youth—though, it should be noted, the science here is anything but stable.
For Johnson, plasma exchange is not an unusual occurrence. He stayed at a Dallas-area clinic for several months in a row and received plasma—not from a family member, but from a young, anonymous donor. Johnson carefully examined the donor to ensure that the individual had an ideal body mass index, was living a healthy lifestyle and was free of diseases.
Johnson made a name for himself in the tech sector as the former head of Braintree, a digital payments company that owned Venmo. After selling the venture, he made a lot of money and started Kernel, a brain-machine interface company. However, more recently, he’s focused on his body through something called Project Blueprint.
As Bloomberg Businessweek reported in January, Johnson is spending millions of dollars a year on medical diagnosis and treatment, combined with a carefully crafted regimen of eating, sleeping and exercise, to see if he Can slow down, and maybe even reverse, the aging process. He has a team of doctors to assist him in this quest; Through Blueprint, Johnson is publishing most of his methods and results in the hope that others can evaluate and benefit from his work.
In traditional medicine, plasma infusions are used to treat a variety of conditions, including liver disease, burns, and blood disorders. During the COVID-19 pandemic, plasma exchange has entered mainstream discussion. Some Covid patients have been given plasma from people who had recovered from the disease and antibodies showed up in their systems, although the World Health Organization recommended against the practice in 2021.
The notion of using plasma as a rejuvenation therapy gained traction after experiments in which scientists literally fused older mice and younger ones together, allowing them to share a circulatory system. Older subjects showed improvements in cognitive function, metabolism, and bone structure. There is also evidence that frequent blood donations can have positive health effects because you clear out old and your body produces new cells and fluids.
Human studies with this technique are scarce. This has left scientists and enthusiasts with data from mice, which many researchers consider to be inconclusive. Some researchers analyzing the longevity field caution against exploring alternative plasma transfusions among healthy people. “We haven’t learned enough to suggest that this is a viable human treatment for anything,” says Charles Brenner, a biochemist at the City of Hope National Medical Center in Los Angeles. “To me, it’s gross, evidence-free, and relatively dangerous.”
Johnson’s medical team, however, has approved the procedure as a possible treatment for cognitive decline and perhaps to prevent Parkinson’s disease and Alzheimer’s disease. Because Johnson measures his blood, brain and organ performance in excruciating detail, he hopes to be able to measure any changes that result from the transfusion. As he undergoes several additional procedures, Johnson has turned his body to science to try to push the boundaries of longevity technology and add concrete metrics to his health practices. “We start with the evidence first,” says Johnson in the clinic. “We don’t do anything based on emotion.”
The so-called blood boy stigma surrounding longevity-focused plasma transfusions means few people advancing the treatment discuss it openly. Aside from the obvious fiendish quality to the process, the mechanics can seem elitist and inappropriate. In most cases, a wealthy person receives the plasma of a much younger, less wealthy person. Plasma donors typically receive about $100 in gift cards for a procedure that costs about $5,500.
The amount of time required for plasma exchange varies. Johnson typically removes about a liter of blood and gets back the same amount in plasma, which is a lot as these things go. (The human body holds about five liters of blood.) By working with his phletomist to alter the machine’s flow rate and needle size during the plasma draw, Johnson has reduced the time it takes for the procedure. 80 min.
His clinic of choice is called Resurgence Wellness, which bills itself as a medical spa. The company building is located in a Dallas suburb, and looks clean and modern on the inside. It has a range of suites for various procedures, from hormone treatments to “body sculpting” to get rid of fat bulges and platelet-rich plasma injections for things like sore knees. A video playing in the hallway shows the actors in a futuristic medical clinic where patients with electrode-covered bodies are scanned and analyzed before being tuned up.
In the lead up to his family day at the clinic, Johnson celebrates with his son and father and other members of his Blueprint team. Everyone gathers in the lobby of an expensive hotel for a healthy breakfast. If there’s one suspect in the group, it’s the eldest Johnson. Richard is from Utah and notes that he is quite conservative, with very conservative friends who would think he is crazy for doing something like this. Richard also worries that his nerves may collapse during the procedure and he may let everyone down. Richard says, “Here’s a leap of faith.”
Two years ago, Richard noticed a significant decline in his overall health and his mental performance on work tasks. Although he is of average height, his weight climbed to 280 pounds, and he found it painful to get out of bed in the morning. In his work as a lawyer, he was having trouble remembering items for legal briefs. He began following most of the Blueprint program six months ago, which focuses on regular exercise, eating vegetables, and taking some supplements. After dropping 50 pounds, he says he feels sharp and energetic in a testimonial that sounds almost like a weight-loss ad: “Now, I’m doing the best I’ve ever done.”
Often parents make sacrifices for their children, but in this case the roles are sharply reversed. Talmage, a model of health, has the least to gain because he doesn’t receive anyone else’s fluids. Brian benefits from receiving a young man’s plasma, and Richard receives plasma from Brian, who he says is one of the healthiest adults on Earth. “Yeah, I won the lottery,” says Richard. “There must be a benefit to him getting that much.”
In the past, Brian and Richard had a tumultuous, sometimes difficult relationship. Richard Johnson turned away from some family members. He sees the plasma exchange as a means of family renewal and deepening his bond with Brian. His emotions during the day only add to the pressure as he waits for his turn at the needle.
Talmage handles it like a pro, and his plasma comes out pale and clear—platonic plasma characteristics for a young, healthy person. Brian is close to perfection. “Hey, look at this,” he says, pointing to a cylindrical, plastic container filled with his plasma. “That way you can tell if I’m a cheater or not. The color is nice. It’s antique.” In the background, a member of Brian’s team shouts, “Oh, it looks golden.”
Each celebration fills Richard’s face with terror. He wonders aloud whether his plasma can emerge from a dark, cloudy mess. It’s unpleasant to be the oldest, least healthy person in a room full of muscle-bound longevity explorers. Worse, if his vein breaks, this moment—this very costly moment—will be for naught.
In the end, Richard’s vein holds on, though his red, hazy plasma certainly isn’t as bright as his family’s. After he is exhausted, Richard begins to receive Brian’s plasma as Brian, Talmage and the team members watch. Some sit in black, faux leather armchairs while others stand against the walls.
Tears welled up in Richard’s eyes. He talks about giving up the flesh and it is as much an emotional experience as a physical one. Richard says, “I don’t know if anything I’m saying makes sense.” “I feel at peace.” Brian smiles and jokes: “You are under the influence of plasma.”
Whether this has any positive health effects remains unclear. Brenner, a biochemist, suggests that anyone considering this type of procedure would be better served by going on a nice, long hike. “People going to these clinics who want anti-aging infusions is basically an anxiety problem,” he says. “He has a problem with anxiety about his own mortality.”
Johnson has faced criticism since he first spoke publicly about the project blueprint. He argues that doing something like a three-generation plasma swap—and inviting a reporter to watch it—is part of a process to see what is possible and beneficial in terms of the body and Opening people’s minds to new ideas. The most important thing, he says, is the data. He promises to publish it in the coming months.
(Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is published from a syndicated feed.)