I am the most useless person alive.
While I loath this I also have given this realization considerable thought and I came up with a plan. My dying wish is that my body be donated to science. If I cannot contribute to society in life, I may as well in death. I need my existence to MEAN something, no matter in what capacity.
This decision ensures that at the very least my conception one hazy night on Fire Island meant something. That the choice my unwed immigrant mother made not to go through with the abortion, bore me to life, it secures that life had a purpose. Even it that purpose is simply that eager 20-something year old medical students can learn from my corpse. That people who will go on to make contributions to the world during their living tenures on this earth will become one step closer to achieving a greatness I could never amount to as a living being.
My blood type is O negative. Additionally, it tests negative for exposure to a common benign virus. This all adds up to me being a blood donor superstar. My blood and platelets are universally accepted by all and supply is always in shortage. My lack of exposure this virus is extremely rare and makes me one of few candidates whose blood can be transfused to pregnant woman and infants.
I have donated a few times. Once in High School then again a few years later. When my company hosted a blood donation day I made my way to the top floor and readily rolled up my sleeve to share what gift God had granted me with others in need. However, I was deemed an inappropriate candidate on the basis that I had just started a round of prophylactic antibiotics in preparation for a tooth extraction the following afternoon.
Disheartened but understanding I returned to my work desk like a vampire, chock full of O negative.
The day I was laid off, following my Jerry McGuire-esque tantrum. After I conjured the strength to move from the city street curb where I had been hysterically crying, hyperventilating, shivering in self-hatred and shock, when I had finally ridden the train back to Berkeley, I exited the station only to find a mobile blood donation van.
I immediately felt reinvigorated. So, I was not considered by my employer to be of enough value to find another place for me, so I felt like a useless resource using asshole, here is my chance to give! To be valuable. I entered the snug van and began the pre-screen. My emotions from that mornings events still shaking me at my core. The nurse went through her battery of questions, consulted with the physician, who then came and sat beside me with the results of the screening. He informed me that they were not able to accept me as a donor as I was visibly upset and that my mental distress would make the donation process unpleasant and he could not in good faith permit me to give in my current condition. Really?! As if being needle stuck then spending 15-30 minutes trying not to watch as I am pumped like gas tank then either pass out, as I have in the past, or suffer nausea, dizziness and overall malaise. It is NEVER a pleasant experience, but it is a small price to pay if it may save even one life.
Shock. It was as if someone had punched me in the gut. How can this be happening again? How can I be rejected while trying to do something good, be a contributing member of society in some way, especially on that day when my self value was at an all-time low (well at the time I thought it was and all-time low, I didn’t know what the next few months had in store for me).
I exited the van shamefully, full of despair with no direction, feeling beaten and discarded.
Today, it all happened again. I passed by the American Red Cross Donation Center on my way to an appointment with a job recruiting agency. Afterwards, I was feeling, as I usually do after these types of meetings, disheartened. Overcome with the exhaustion of having to self promote, describe the kind of opportunity I am seeking, salary expectations and worst of all, why I am no longer at my last position.
So, again, in an attempt to feel as if the day, MY LIFE, was not a complete waste, I stopped in to make a donation. A plasma donation this time, a procedure which take over two hours. I aced the initial screening and was almost finished with the secondary health screen when a question of “incomplete dental work” appeared. This was new! I have a temporary crown over a dental implant. For the work to be considered “complete” the permanent crown still needs to be applied. However, the procedure costs upwards of $3,000, with insurance, and I am not in the financial position to even make their suggested monthly payment plan amount let alone the enormous fee upfront.
So, once again I was cast away, me and my rare oft sought after blood. I felt again as if I had been punched in the gut. Completely useless. My inability to pay for my oral health prevented me from doing good. It is painful to know that your failures not only impact and hurt you but those around you, the general public, SOCIETY.
I recently canceled my monthly giving to Planned Parenthood, had to throw away the Medicines Sans Frontiers plea for funds. What good am I? What am I doing for anyone? Why am I even here?
Once I inspired adventure in others, promoted good health, encouraged passion. Now, I have no basis to give any advice to anyone. I am a leper.
Best stay away from me – and my blood apparently.
~ the audacious amateur blogger