(We are sitting at break in my Med/Surg Nursing course one afternoon, and we’ve just finished clarifying that our final exam is NOT cumulative. I notice my classmate next to me has hiccups.)

Me: “Got hiccups?”

Classmate: “Yeah.”

Me: “Want me to scare them out of you?”

Classmate: *sleepily* “Nooooo! Don’t scare me.”

(Jokingly, I throw my arm around her and lean in.)

Me: “Hey, hey, [Classmate], the fourth test is cumulative!”

Classmate: “WAIT, WHAT?!”

Me: “Oh, my God, no! We just finished discussing this! I’m joking.”

Classmate: “…”

Me: “HOLY CRAP! It actually stopped your hiccups!”

(We all lost it. Forget “boo.” If you want to scare a nursing student, just tell her the exam will be harder!)

Nurse: *while drawing blood* “Wow. I’ve stuck you, like, a dozen times, and I haven’t gotten the needle to work!”

Me: “I know. I’ve got the worst genetics — tiny, deep veins that deflate! I’d rather not be here all day.”

Nurse: “Really? Oh, I could do blood draws aaaaall day, but the second I need my blood taken I’m like, well, no! I wonder why that is?”

Me: “Because it doesn’t hurt to do it to others?”

Nurse: “Oh, my gosh, yeah! Maybe that’s it!”

(I didn’t get an IV in.)

(I work at the mental health ward. I’m at the nurses’ station when I hear a loud CRACK. A patient has collapsed on the floor. I run over to help.)

Me: “What happened?”

Nurse: “She was walking to the shower and just fainted. She’s been nothing but trouble!”

(The patient looks like she hasn’t showered in days. She’s pale and really thin.)

Me: “She looks terrible. What’s been happening to her?”

Nurse: “She was vomiting for the past three days. Won’t even eat!”

Me: “And you let her walk? Why haven’t you called medical?”

Nurse: “She’s annoying!”

(I am pregnant with my first child. My husband and I had decided we were “taking kids when they came.” While we weren’t actively trying — not testing ovulation or anything — we also weren’t avoiding pregnancy. I am 28 and a PhD candidate; my husband is in his early 30s and has a law degree. In summary, we are definitely established enough and old enough to have children responsibly. In my first trimester, I begin experiencing pretty awful pregnancy sickness, sometimes vomiting without stop for about an hour at a time. It’s not the worst possible, but not great, either. I call my OB to see if there’s anything they can recommend to get some relief from this. The OB office nurse has been repeatedly rude to me, to the extent that I’ve considered leaving their office more than once.)

Me: *explaining the situation to her and asking* “Is there anything you recommend for women to perhaps limit the sickness?”

OB Nurse: “No. Women get sick when they’re pregnant. If you didn’t want to get sick, you should have been a big girl and kept your legs together, or used a condom.”

(I go to the ER one night for suspected appendicitis. The nurse orders a blood draw and urine sample.)

Nurse: “We’ll run your blood to see if anything is unusual, run a pregnancy test on your urine, and then go from there.”

Me: “No need. There’s no chance that I’m pregnant.”

Nurse: “We have to make sure.”

Me: “I’m sure. If you look at my intake, you’ll see that I had a complete hysterectomy six years ago. I also haven’t had sex with a penis in four years. If by some dark magic I’m pregnant, I’ve got bigger things to worry about than my appendix.”

(The nurse didn’t care, and the doctor ordered a pregnancy test, anyway. Lo and behold, it was negative.)