(A group of friends and I have been out drinking. Someone in the last pub becomes belligerent after the barman cuts him off. Things happen, and we end up in A&E after one friend — very drunk by this point — gets glassed in the face. As his boyfriend, I have the pleasure of sitting beside him while a nurse is stitching him up.)

Boyfriend: “Am I going to die?”

Nurse: “Yes.”

Boyfriend: “WHAT? OH, GOD!”

Me: “Is it that serious? Shouldn’t he be in surgery or something?”

Nurse: “What? Sorry, I have to concentrate. You wanted a drink, right? I could get you a glass of water.”

Me: “No, he asked if he was dying.”

Nurse: *looking mortified* “Oh, no. You can go after we’re done.”

Me & Boyfriend: “…”

(I am going through the screening questions before a surgery for which I will have to be anesthetized.)

Nurse: “Do you smoke?”

Me: “No.”

Nurse: “Do you drink alcohol?”

Me: “Occasionally.”

Nurse: “How often?”

Me: “Once or twice per month.”

Nurse: *skips the usual, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”* “Now, I don’t care if you are the Virgin Mary; we’re going to need a urine sample for a pregnancy test.”

Me: “Well, if I was the Virgin Mary, that would be super important, so fair enough.”

(I have just woken up from surgery. I look around the room and see my Ob/Gyn, so I decide to start a conversation.)

Me: “Are you real?”

Ob/Gyn: “Yes.”

Me: “I don’t think so! Wait, maybe you’re a ghost.”

Ob/Gyn: “I’m not a ghost.”

Me: “I bet I can stick my hand through you.” *I flop my arm over in his direction and hit him in the side* “HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Ob/Gyn: “Do what?”

Me: “Block my hand.”

Ob/Gyn: “Like I said, I’m not a ghost.”

Me: “I knew it! You’re not real; this is all a dream. I think I can control it.”

(At this point, he stops talking and directs my bed into a recovery room. On the way, I hear a beeping sound, probably someone’s heart monitor going off.)

Me: “I did that.”

(My mum told me about this, as I have little memory of it. I had a fall a few weeks ago where I dislocated and fractured my ankle, broke the leg, and tore the ligament. Now, I’m in hospital for day surgery in which I’ve had some pins removed from my ankle. I get wheeled into recovery. My mum and her best friend are waiting next to my bed while I wake up properly. The nurses are doing vitals checks every 10 to 15 minutes. At this stage, I’m facing mum and her friend, and I’m still fairly groggy, so this intrusion of my sleep is starting to annoy me.)

Nurse: “Hello again. Sorry to wake you, but can I get your arm please, [My Name]?”

Me: “Ugh, fiiiiine.”

(The nurse checks my blood pressure.)

Nurse: “All righty, all done.”

(The next time the nurse starts to come over, my mum tells me:)

Mum: “Love, the nurse is coming over.”

Me: “Please excuse my back.” *turns over as the nurse approaches and raises my arm up* “Just take the arm.”

Nurse: “I’m sorry, what?”

Me: “Take my arm back with you to do checks so I can sleep.”

(My mum, her friend, and the nurse laugh.)

Nurse: “I’m sorry, hun; I can’t do that. We’d end up with so many arms at the nurses’ station, it would become inconvenient for everyone, especially those who the arms belong to.”

(I was discharged a couple hours later. I know checking vitals is very important, but at the time sleep was way more important.)

(My nurse is going over some basic questions whilst taking my blood pressure.)

Nurse: “And we’re not a smoker, are we? You don’t smoke.”

Me: “Uh, yes. Wait, no. Wait, yes. Hang on… I don’t know how to respond to that! I don’t smoke. That is my answer.”

Nurse: “Yeah, you’re right, actually. I should probably learn to phrase that better!”