Shelly's Windfall

Day 1

I’m new at this kind of thing, so I’m not sure how to start. The blank pages are so intimidating, but maybe not as much as the dark cover. Why did I choose the dark one? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because of the whole idea of an abyss, an endless black hole where ideas can grow out of it. Everyone thinks light makes things grow, but ideas grow better in darkness, because you have to use more creative energies to fill it all in.

Anyway, I’m rambling, the energy typically conjured in my mouth is being transferred to the pen. Why am I writing this journal? Two reasons. The first, because I want to prove something. I want to prove that you cannot put a price on the human body. I know many out there (John, I’m talking to you) believe you can, but my intention is to show you can’t. And shouldn’t. The second? I happen to have a rare blood type and it so happens someone can really benefit from this.

So John is an old ex-co-worker. I guess you can consider him somewhat a friend, though we haven’t spoken in years and bam, out of the blue he comes to me with this offer. Twenty thousand big ones. Well, this is for a good deed, right? And to prove a very arrogant man wrong. Besides, I have two of them, I think. And I really only need one. Maybe I should research this a little first. But I’m here, and I checked my account. Yes, I am twenty Gs richer today. Wow.

Day 2

So, feeling a little tired, but that’s okay. My big score suddenly makes Starbucks less daunting. Maybe I can do this every day. If I do it for a year that’s like, hold on, calculator time. Well, just add a zero so like $3,650. That leaves me with, let’s see, $16,350. Nice, I could definitely take a nice trip with that. A cruise maybe? Ooh, but the thought of a rocking ship is making me nauseous, so better hold off on that idea. Colorado ski trip? No, the heights and thin cold air are doing the same.

Day 3

Wow, really feeling sore down there. It hurts just to shift around in my seat. Call me naïve or whatever, but I almost expected a shift, like for everything else in there to just move into that open spot. Do they have their own bidding wars? Maybe they are more civil than we are and they just agree to share the extra space equally, giving them each more elbow room. Listen to me, elbow room. Like they have elbows. Oh, I am not feeling good. Not at all. So, how much opium can I get with the remaining funds? Just kidding. Kind of. But seriously, when these opium derivatives run out, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Day 4

So, feeling a little better today. Maybe I’ll go out and treat myself to something. Check out some nice used cars perhaps? Mine is still falling apart like its owner and likely will not get any better.

Day 5

Ugh, what a mistake. Trust it to used car lots to make whatever symptoms you have a million times worse. Just when I was feeling better too. I’m seriously considering filling my tub with ice water so I can just soak. But I would have to get bags and bags of ice, and I’m not supposed to be lifting anything heavy. Oh, what to do. Carry me away to paradise, to the great Amazonian . . . hey, that’s an idea.

Day 6

Okay, so I have like a hundred things coming to me. Yes, a hundred packages. Holy shit, what if they all get here at the same time? Is there even room on my front stoop? I’m not even sure there’s room to list everything in this little black notebook.

Day 7

Feeling a little better again. A doctor from the center is coming by tomorrow to check on me. They keep reminding me to take it easy. Don’t stress out. But I’m down to a little over seven thousand. I need to find a job. Don’t stress, yeah sure. I used to be a cashier, but I’m not sure I can stand there all day like I used to. Oh, I got my first gifts from the web gods today. The necklace really looks nice but the perfume, ugh. Maybe not the best thing to buy online. I’m looking forward to the back massager and the foot spa to alleviate some of these physical woes.

Day 8

The doctor came by, but I use the term lightly. He was a bit young and dorky. So no romantic inuendoes with this one. He checked the incision, said it looked red but not too bad. He said to relax, take it easy. The usual. Thank you, Mr. “I make so much I could probably retire in ten years.” But I’m not sure he’s a real doctor, probably just an understudy. He did say the surgery with the other person went well. I should be happy, but I’m not. I’ll never meet this person. But that means I can imagine them, right? I can create the idea of him or her, becoming something great. Maybe a famous actor or singer or influencer. Whatever. At least that small part of me will see stardom.

Day 9

Fatigue has definitely set in. Or maybe it’s just in my head. Anyway, I probably spent way too much at that natural health store. But I should have all the probiotics, prebiotics, fish oil, ginseng, Omega-3, zinc, glucosamine, canes deer velvet, choline, nattokinase, and fiber I’ll need for a while. Though I suspect I probably didn’t need all of this. The sales person obviously saw a hurt person with money to burn. So, I have like six thousand and some change left. Over halfway through. Seems strange to think of it that way. But then what happens when I no longer have money-spending to look forward to?

Day 10

So, ended up in the emergency room today. Maybe I tried a workout a little too soon. I was supposed to give my body a little more time to heal. Must have been those energy drinks. They pumped me up too much. Anyway, I started getting dizzy with that “my body’s gonna collapse on itself” sort of feeling. Though most probably haven’t actually felt this before. It’s strange, and not very fun. Oh, why does Shelly always have to be the martyr? Couldn’t John have found someone else to prove him wrong? Oh yeah, the blood type, the type for suffering fools.

Day 11

So, they want to see me more regularly, the people from the center, instead of using the phone to check on my status. Still single. Ha. Status after the procedure, of course. I’m trying to have a sense of humor about this but it’s hard. I feel like something isn’t right inside me, like other parts of my body are working harder to make up for my decision, my precious twenty thousand. So someone’s coming by tomorrow to take my blood, more tests, yadda yadda. Oh well. Shouldn’t get too nasty in this little black journal. John might use it against me somehow. There’s some reason he wants me to keep it. Sick amusement, perhaps? I don’t even want to think about it. I’m too tired. Goodnight.

Day 12

They had to knock really hard to get me awake. Had I slept any longer, they probably would’ve gotten the police involved or I would be spending some of this five or six thousand on a new door. It was an older woman who came by today, I think I remember her from the center. She had her nice little kit with all the tubes. She pricked me and took my pulse (I still have one.) Checked eyes, throat, etc. She wouldn’t really answer me when I asked if everything was normal, in fact, she looked pretty concerned. She called someone and after a lot of arguing, anyway, I’m tired. I’m at the hospital now and I’m tired. I can hardly hold this pen upright. Goodnight.

Day 13

So, I’m doing a little better now. They have me up, I’m working with a therapist, easing me into everything. Baby steps. The doctor also consulted with me, going over my something levels and something else difficult to say levels. Bottom line is my life will never be the same. I won’t be able to do all the things I used to do. Soon, I might be at 80%, hopefully with work. My mom also came. She’ll be staying with me to help, which is good and bad because I know she’ll push me but it is mom. I worked very hard to be independent of her and her ways which I both love and despise. But I’m thankful she’s here with me. Oh, I thought I cried out all my tears but they keep getting produced. Is the answer to every drought in the world right before, I mean, right in our eyes? Amazing body it still is.

Day 14

So, I’ve been discharged, and I’m back at home with mom. Hospitals sure don’t like to keep people for very long. But we have our plans, our routines. Apparently, the rest of my money will soon be swallowed up in healthcare costs, but a couple of my friends have started a gofundme. Maybe it’s true what they say, about karma and what goes around, and all of that. I gave a small but critical part of myself. Maybe I will receive something more than just money. Love, support, blah blah. Screw you, John. I’m too tired to write anymore. Goodnight.

Day 15

This might be my last entry in this fine little black notebook, though I do have some more pages left. But I don’t think I need to journal this any longer, even if John requested it. I know the answer to the big question that got us all started on this journey. Can a price be put on the human body and all of its intricate little parts? Well, I have my answer. But I’m not gonna share it. Why? Because you’ll have to decide that for yourself, Johnny boy. Truth is, your little test has given me a chance to think about a lot of things. The planet, all the people crawling all over it like ants on yesterday’s discarded peach. Pretty poetic, huh? We are all like cells, but really important cells of a larger body. So, if I have to give a smaller part of myself to help another precious cell from dying, well, that means me and that other cell can both continue to thrive. Money has nothing to do with this, and it never should. But anyway, I’ll still accept it, ta ta for now. -Shelly

Day ?

So, I’m writing this on a napkin, not my pretty little notebook. John has that now. And he also has fifty thousand dollars he didn’t have before. How, you ask? Because he made another bet with an even wealthier friend that, ultimately, you can’t put a price on the human body. Bravo, Johnny boy. I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re so satisfied with yourself and the awfulness that makes up your world. Because I will never be 100% again. You screwed me out of that! Sorry, I had to take a breath. I had to close my eyes and remember that someone is still alive who might not be if not for me. So, screw you, John. Making bets with extra money while some of us are saving lives and starving while doing it. -a very perturbed Shelly