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I used to park my RV in a bad area of SF. No one else wants to park there, so it's always easy to find a spot. One night a friend and I were hanging out in my RV, we lost track of time, and soon the buses weren't running anymore. She calls a cab and we go outside to wait for it.

A cab pulls up, we say our goodbyes, and it drives right past us. Wrong company. A few minutes later another cab comes, and again drives right by. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a large black woman wandering around fifty feet to our left. Two more cabs drive by, neither one the right company. It's cold outside. We start laughing at the situation.

Noticing our laughter the woman starts staggering towards us.

Draw my blood!

On Toddler Breastfeeding

My quest to become a breast milk donor has stalled. I am not able to find anyone that is willing to help me get my blood drawn. I'm sitting here writing and feeling the defeat, and the tears threatening. I can't remember the last time I cried, or felt this helpless and depressed. Here I am, doing a phenomenal thing. Donating my breast milk to babies that need it. Preemies in the NICU. Babies of Mommas that can't provide their own breast milk. I thought the phrase "I'm registering to become a breast milk donor" would win over hearts and get me the help I need to continue. Not so. I've been met with silence and "what are you doing? Oh."

So far, I've called five different establishments. That is including the CVS minute clinic (they don't do blood work) and the "Family Practice" that turned out to be an optician. Why would an optician name their practice "Mr. Whoever Family Practice"? Sounds like a doctor's office right? Incidentally, she gave the only warm response I received. I heard in her voice that she thought I was doing a great thing. If testing my eyes was a prerequisite for breast milk donation, she would have helped me no problem. On calls, my opening explanation goes something like this:

I'm sure I wasn't that clear. Each time I pick up the phone I'm very nervous as what I'm asking for is way out of the ordinary. The more I get rejected, the more nervous I become. And with that comes stuttering and a loss of words. I thought the hard part was going to be pumping the milk. Boy, was I wrong. Here's a rough transcript of the conversations I've had. I'm still surprised with the responses.

Red Cross:

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