If the trip doesn't conflict with work or graduate school, I put my name in for consideration. If I'm chosen, I try to build in some sightseeing or dinner with a friend, but that's never guaranteed.
On a recent trip to New York, I spent all of an hour in Manhattan, mostly waiting in line for a taxi to New York-Presbyterian Hospital, before catching the train back to Baltimore.
Whenever my mission comes up in small talk on a plane or train, most people are amazed. First they think I'm carrying an organ. Then they ask why I'm not a paramedic or nurse, or traveling in a helicopter that lands on a hospital roof.
I travel commercial and in coach, just like everyone else, except my carry-on contains a small cooler and bag to transport the fluids. Marrow is sealed in plastic bags, and blood is stored in tubes. Sometimes ice packs lie on top of the marrow; other times, the marrow is kept at room temperature. Blood stem cells can be preserved for up to a month, but marrow has a shelf life of about 48 hours. So once the marrow is in my hands, I have to get it to its destination on time. Given the current state of travel - fewer flights and onboard services - that's not always easy.
When traveling in the Northeast, I prefer to use Amtrak. As a courier, it is important to have backup plans, and Amtrak offers frequent departures and few travel restrictions. Air travel presents more obstacles and often requires quick thinking to be flexible.
In November, the coordinator for my trip to San Francisco called to tell me that the bone marrow would be ready for pickup ahead of schedule at Georgetown University's Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Center in Washington. I realized that if I hurried, I could make an earlier flight, leaving Dulles International Airport just an hour after I picked up the marrow.
I arrived only 20 minutes before departure and knew that if I went to the ticket counter, an agent would say there wasn't enough time to change my itinerary. So I headed straight for security. I can't take the marrow through the X-ray machine, but luckily, the Transportation Security Administration screeners knew what they were doing. I breezed through.
After hopping off one of Dulles' Star Wars-esque shuttles, I sprinted to the gate, which was empty: a bad sign. I explained to the attendant that I was carrying bone marrow, and with one minute to spare, she allowed me to board the flight.
