On Sunday, October 12, my SNAP Challenge came to an end. For the folks scoring at home, I had $27 to feed myself for the entire week: The same amount a single adult receives for a weekly food budget on the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (also known as food stamps). That’s about $1.28 per cibum or $3.86 per diem.
When you’re carrying a box labeled “HUMAN SPECIMEN,” people get out of your way. Sure, you may have to stand in line at the FedEx office, but I can assure you that no one will crowd your personal space.
I came to this discovery when I called Be The Match to alert my donation coordinator of some travel plans. Three weeks out from my postponed peripheral blood stem cell (PBSC) donation, I’d agreed to give them a heads-up on geographic changes to my whereabouts – a medical tether, if you will.
“Hi Chi, it’s Stacy. I’m headed to California on Thursday, back on Sunday. I know you said it could be five weeks or more before we rescheduled the donation. Any word on the patient?”
“We have not heard anything regarding the patient’s status. We do not contact them. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Just go and have a nice time on your trip.”
Don’t call them. They’ll call us: Welcome to my life in sales.
15 minutes later, Chi’s caller-ID popped up on my mobile. I rolled my eyes, assuming she probably forgot to check my pregnancy status again or see if I’d shared any unclean needles with the prison population.
“Hi Stacy, it’s Chi. You won’t believe this, but as soon as I hung up the phone with you, the patient’s coordinator called. Are you available on [ REDACTED ] for the peripheral blood stem-cell transplant?”
“Hi Stacy, it’s Chi from the National Marrow Donor Program. I have a question about your pregnancy test.”
Pardon me, I just lost bowel control.
One doesn’t have questions about a pregnancy test. It’s pretty much a binary, foregone conclusion: Yes / No. On / Off. + / –. You either are or you aren’t.
Given that my husband has had a vasectomy, and that I have had a uterine ablation which rendered my insides a rocky place where a super-seed escapee from a statistically improbable, failed vasectomy could find no purchase, Chi’s question about my pregnancy test means we have bigger problems than my making a bone-marrow stem-cell donation for an anonymous cancer patient:
Baby Jesus is second-coming out of my vagina. Prepare for the Apocalypse… NOW!
JFF Hate Fest With the 22th pick of the 2014 NFL Draft, the Cleveland Browns selected the most insanely talented, over-rated, over-performing, over-hyped, most likely to succeed, least sportsmanlike, most marketable, least classy, most electrifying player in the known universe: Johnny (Fucking Football) Manziel!
And the crowd went wild… or wait, they wailed in agony… or they gasped in a paroxysm of orgasm… or they aired their genteel displeasure in panting exasperation… or they rushed to the phones to buy their season tickets… or they pegged their bets for the exact day and time that they could shout their “told ya so’s” from the rooftops when he …
Lent is over, folks, which means I can revert to my standard vocabulary of shameless profanity… but not before making a little contribution to the scientists at the TGen Foundation: A whopping $169.