There are many "bad signs" of nursing.
"It's never a good sign when her white count is higher than her hematocrit." (For people who haven't had their brains sucked out by the nursing profession, this means that the patient is probably septic and headed for the ICU.)
"I admitted the gal in room 208, and I ran out of space on the admission form for psychiatric diagnoses!" is not something you want to hear from the admitting nurse. Ever.
"I ran out of things to give for nausea and vomiting, but he's still puking!"
And yesterday's experience:
At the very begining of my shift, I answered a random elderly lady's call light, and she said, "Excuse me, but when are they coming to get the body?"
I looked across at her roommate (who I knew from the census was going to be going home with hospice the next day) and realized that she was somewhat grayish. In spite of the lousy color, she was still breathing regularly.
I reassured the first lady that her roommate was alive, but it understandably took a bit to get her relaxed. And after a quick conversation with the charge nurse, it took less than twenty minutes to find her a new room with an alert, non-dying roommate.