I was a student nurse at the time. I was assisting in the delivery of an infant. My specific task was to work with the rather over-excited father-to-be. He was an absolute delight to work withvery solicitous of his wife all throughout, very cooperative with the staff, and very appreciative of the help we were giving the mother-to-be. The background was that after 7 years of marriage, and 2 tragic miscarriages, THIS pregnancy had come to full term, and the childdeliberately they did NOT want to know the genderwas healthy, and both "mom" and "dad" were excited about the upcoming birth. The child finally emerged, the MD held up the child, and "dad" blurted out "It's a girl!! You wanted a girl!!! Oh my God, she's beautiful!!" Then he buried his face on his wife's shoulder and was sobbing for pure joy. The MD quickly put him to workhe was to cut the umbilical cord. "I'm not going to hurt her, am I??" MD assured him no, he wouldn't. He made the cut, and came immediately over to the wife"Honeyare you all right?? I didn't hurt you??"" While the his daughter was being bathed and checked out by the APGAR nurse, he excited called out the various observationsshe as healthy..she was pinking upshe was so beautiful "I can't believe it." When the nurse returned the little girl to "mom", the three of them cuddled together, tears just pouring from his eyesand we in the birthing suite were all getting teary-eyed ourselves. That was 30 years ago, and I still get tears just thinking about what I consider the most beautiful moment of my life, one that I was lucky to share with these two wonderful people. Why were nurses becoming teary-eyed? - They were happy the couple finally had become parents. - not enough information - They were angry the couple had become parents. - They were upset the couple had become parents.
They were happy the couple finally had become parents.

(Question)
Not as a nurse, but as a patient. I had my appendix removed in about 1970 before keyhole surgery and the surgeon had not properly stitched the inside incision. This meant I was slowly "leaking" blood into the area between my abdominal cavity lining and my skin. I was kept in the hospital for two weeks and every day the same nurse would come along and open the end of the incision in my skin to relieve the pressure caused by the pooling of my blood. That was fine for the first five days, but the weekend came and she was off duty. Apparently, nobody else knew what to do. By Monday morning, I was in agony and when she arrived, she was appalled I had not been drained during the weekend. The other thing that happened during the weekend was the end of the skin incision, which she had opened, had mostly healed meaning there was no convenient hole for the blood to be drained. The nurse used a sharp pair of scissors to reopen one end of the partly-healed incision, but still the blood would not simply drain of its own accord. She used both hands to squeeze downwards onto the swollen blood reservoir. At first, there was no reaction except agonizing pain, but after a few seconds and a very hard squeeze, the stinking, coagulated blood jetted out of the hole she'd made squirting across the ceiling, down the wall and down her full-length coating her face and the front of her uniform. Despite the pain, I couldn't keep myself from laughing loud and long. She then dressed the wound, directed some junior nurses to clean the ceiling and the wall while she went to clean herself. I apologized for laughing the following day when she returned. She told me she appreciated the humor of the situation so there was no "hard feelings." The nurse who drained the author's blood was likely: - skilled and experienced in her job - new at the hospital - not enough information - ajunior nurse
(Answer)
skilled and experienced in her job

Mr. Drake hurried into the trailer, and Ethorne, Gwenny, Johnny Tepes, and I looked up as Mrs. DeLyon followed him. He looked at me. "Where would Digger go?" I shrugged and blinked. The question made no sense; Digger would not go anywhere. When he slept, he slept for ten hours. You could toss him around like a sack of potatoes, and he would not wake up. With one exception. "Bathroom?" Mrs. DeLyon shook her head. "No." Mr. Drake said, "And he's not in any of the beds. We looked in all three." Mrs. DeLyon said, "And under them. And I called for him. He wouldn't hide from me, would he?" I shook my head. Ethorne got up, went to the door, and shouted, "Digger! Where is you, Digger-boy? You don't need to hide no more. Everything's fine now!" The dogs barked in response, but no person answered. Mrs. DeLyon said, "Call Dr. Lamont. Maybe Susan put him in the backseat and forgot to tell us." Mr. Drake's voice held as little hope for that as Mrs. DeLyon's, but he said, "All right." Mrs. DeLyon said, "We'll get Chris to bed in the meantime." "I'm in charge," I said. Ethorne said, "When there's nothing you can do, you might as well sleep. Save your strength for when you need it." Mrs. DeLyon said, "Don't worry. At least one of us will stay in the trailer until your folks get back." Gwenny said, "C'mon, boyfriend. I'll see you to your bed." I said, "I can go by myself." Gwenny looked at Mrs. DeLyon, then at Johnny Tepes. "Well, that's a blow to a girl's ego." They smiled without much humor, and Mr. Drake hung up the phone. Ethorne said, "What is it?" Mr. Drake said, "Let's get Chris to bed first." I stood and went to the door. "G'night." How long they think Digger usually sleep? - 8 hours - not enough information - 3 hours - 10 hours
10 hours