Most people would not call a 45-minute commute just to use someone else’s restroom their “dream job.”
But most people are not Alana Castro.
“My family jokes about how I have always been fascinated with poop,” said Castro, 33, a nursing student who lives in San Gabriel. “I will talk about poop with anyone. Everyone poops. There’s nothing special about it.”
So when Castro saw a promotion on Instagram for a Tustin medical lab collecting — and paying for — stool samples, she signed up. Now she does her daily duty there several times a week for $75 per visit.
“It’s my poop dreams come true,” she said.
While the topic of defecation may strike many as both humorous and icky, it is no laughing matter for people who suffer recurrent C. difficile infection, an ailment also known as C. diff.
Seres Therapeutics is seeking a cure for the debilitating intestinal disease. After conducting almost a decade of research and clinical trials, Seres is poised to introduce the first FDA-approved microbiome therapeutic that could stop C. diff from recurring.
But before it can get there, the Massachusetts-based biotech firm needs stool donations from hundreds of healthy people.
Commonly contracted in hospitals, C. diff can be triggered by high doses of antibiotics prescribed to treat other ailments. Antibiotics often disrupt the “good bacteria” in the gut, allowing bad bacteria like C. diff to run rampant.
While most patients recover, some get stuck in an endless cycle of misery as residual C. diff flairs up repeatedly. At that point, trying to treat C. diff with yet more antibiotics can end up killing the good bacteria again.
“The diarrhea and cramping just keep coming back,” said David Ege, chief technology officer of Seres. “People become reluctant to leave home.”
The dangerous bacteria is tied to more than 20,000 deaths each year.
Simply put, Ege said, the new drug would “give the good bacteria a boost,” allowing the body to vanquish festering bad bacteria.
“It’s in capsule form and is given over just three days, not on a chronic basis,” he said.
Earlier this year, Seres acquired the Tustin lab as its primary donation site. Participants from all over Southern California drop in throughout the day to do their business, which must be performed on location.
“This isn’t just someone sending a sample in the mail,” Ege said. “We have strict controls.”
Right off the 5 Freeway, the Tustin site is ideal for both its central location and its demographics, Ege said: “Southern California has a high percentage of healthy potential donors. It’s an area where people take an interest in active lifestyles and new science.”
One such outdoorsy donor is Miles Bocianski. The 30-year-old La Mirada resident and his wife are avid backpackers who hiked 1,680 miles in New Zealand, from top to bottom, a few years ago.
Given his love for rustic living, Bocianski does not find fecal matter a squeamish matter.
“When you’re camping, you bring a shovel, you dig a hole, you make it happen, you wipe, you carry out your toilet paper,” he said. “I’m very OK talking about poop.”
Like Castro, Bocianski discovered the program on Instagram. “I said, ‘Wow, getting paid to poop? Cool,” he recalled.
Bocianksi visits the lab six times a week, usually before clocking in at his Biola University marketing job.
“You go in, you do your business; you’re in and out in 20 or 30 minutes,” he said.
It’s a no-nonsense mission. Due to stringent hygiene protocols, Bocianksi doesn’t bring his phone into the restroom for entertainment.
Yes, there are days he just can’t perform. “I have been kind of off-schedule at times,” he said. “Maybe an out-of-town vacation messed with me, or I didn’t fully digest whatever I last ate. That can be frustrating because I know patients rely on donors to produce the material they need for treatment.”
But laxatives are a no-no. “Your body needs to be in a natural state,” Bocianski said. “You can’t even take a Tums.”
Castro hasn’t experienced a glitch in her system yet, but she came close her very first time last August. “I was like, ‘I’m going to be great at this!’ Then I sat down and felt nervous,” she said.
The opposite happened last week, when she showed up desperate. “I realized driving there that I really needed to go,” Castro said. “I walked in and asked, ‘Can I go right now?’”
Both Castro and Bocianski say money isn’t the main impetus – but it sure is nice.
So far, Bocianski has made $2,500. His wife is a full-time graduate student, and they have a one-year-old son. “We’re on a single income right now,” Bocianski said. “This is an easy way to provide additional income while helping people who need the treatment. It’s a win-win.”
Castro, who is putting herself through school waiting tables, agreed that “money was not my only motivator.”
“I like the aspect of helping other people,” she said. “My friends laugh at me about this. I can’t wait to tell them, ‘Look, I made $6,000 just for pooping.’”
Her side hustle has left her reassessing the value of a certain facet, so to speak, of her self-worth.
“I had to go twice the other day,” Castro said. “I told my boyfriend, ‘Now that I’m getting paid, I feel bad flushing the second one down the toilet.’”
The company continues to seek donations. For information about the Good Nature program, call (844) 476-6748 or go to takeaseat.com.
