What's Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose, 7 Letters?

And in the category of That's Why They Pay You The Big Bucks?, the Oscar goes to...
Mona, Clinical Assistant to Dr. [Name Withheld]!

This round of dealings with Fetus Manufacturing, Incorporated (FMI) has been, oh, just a smidgeon slightly under satisfactory. If my generous health insurance company were not picking up the tab, I might be playing the part of Credit Line-Wielding Harpie. Then again, probably not in view of my incredibly shrinking self-respect when staring into the gaping maw of authority.

As all female-flavored homo sapiens know, any and all medical undertakings seem to cling for dear life to the ever-important first day of your last period. This is certainly even more the case at FMI for reasons obvious to those who stayed awake during 10th grade Biology class. In fact, patients are instructed to phone on the fated first day to relate the happy news. Let me tell you, friends, it is one of the world's most humbling experiences to leave on someone's voicemail a message something like this: "Ah, um, yeah hi. My, ah, period started. OK! Call me!"

Little does one expect to hear upon the return phone call that, despite all evidence to the contrary, one's period may not actually have officially started. Officially. Because FMI isn't interested in when it actually made it's initial appearance but, rather, the infinitely more important yet mysterious start of "full flow". Now, I don't know about you all, but I do not make it a habit of observing flowing things for their fullness. At least not that particular flowing thing. If we were talking about leaking heating oil from the drum in my basement or glacial meltwater in a beautiful mountain stream, perhaps the adjective "full" might be used to describe a certain crucial and fascinating point in the flowing goings-on. I am of the opinion that it is actually impossible to declare something at "full" flow until after full has passed. Is it full yet? How 'bout now? Now? Oh wait, looks like things are slowing down. Guess that was full back then after all.

As if someone would do that in these particular circumstances.

In response to my 1PM um, voicemail message, Mona's winning Clinical Assistant performance at approximately 3 PM went something like this:
Mona: Is it full flow?
Coach: Um, sure, I guess. I don't know.
M: When did it start?
C: Today.
M: So it's probably not full flow. Call back tomorrow morning or today before 4:30 PM if it's full flow before then.
C: Um, yeah. OK.

Isn't modern technology amazing? Mona the Clinical Assistant can tell by telephone more about my body than I can myself, hence the big bucks she makes and the power she wields.

So, upon my follow-up phone call, I was instructed to begin taking some medication which, after 6 days, has made me increasingly dizzy, headachy and nauseous to the point that the world is swimming like I'm peeping into its Beacon Hill living room through a pane of its wavy pre-Revolutionary window glass. Driving ain't fun, friends. And food holds little appeal, even if it would stop moving around the plate long enough for a person to stab it with a fork. Bleh.

So I phoned Mona again. Slow on the uptake, your Coach is. That's why she's qualified to coach the Sit Squad. Mona's helpful advice for the headache: "drink lots of water and take some Tylenol." Let me translate that into Coach for you: "drink lots of water and take some air." That's how effective Tylenol is for me.

Mona informed me that they won't adjust dosage of the evil Migrainiol because that would apparently require them to scrap this cycle and I would have to wait until I could repeat again from "Ah, um, yeah hi..." even though they don't know what the current dosing level is doing to me (other than giving me migraines) until they perform some tests on March 10th at which point they could, based on testing results, cancel the cycle. So let me do this math for you.

• Keep dosage same + perform test on 3/10 = possible cancel
• Change dosage = Do not perform test on 3/10 + definite cancel
• Change dosage CANNOT = Go ahead with test on 3/10 anyway + possible cancel

I can't do the proof on that last one. Guess that's why I don't get Big Bucks to field "Ah, um yeah hi..." phone calls with "Sorry, there's nothing we can do for you" replies. So, with nothing left to lose, I am swimming ahead through the watery world in which I currently live to see this little escapade through to its prompt conclusion. To amuse myself, I am contemplating having the following printed on a beige t-shirt for my March 10th appointment:

My embryos went to FMI and all I got was this lousy headache.