In a shocking revelation that has sparked outrage and laughter in equal measure, the local nursing community has made a heartfelt yet hilariously tragic appeal for funding, while simultaneously bandaging their own wounds—both literal and metaphorical. "Here we are, saving lives one minute and patching up our own gaping emotional and financial wounds the next," exclaimed Nurse Betty Bandage, the self-proclaimed spokesperson for the Overworked and Underpaid Nurses Coalition. “When I’m not dodging the endless stream of patient calls—‘Help, I’ve got a spoon stuck in my ear!’—I’m doing my best to keep the roof over my head while scrounging for spare change to buy aspirin. I mean, something has to help all this stress, right?” The funding plea comes at a time when nurses in the city are witnessing a catastrophic decline in budget allocations, which they attribute to a newly discovered funding category called "Insert-Funds-Here." This mysterious allocation system has allowed local politicians to divert resources to projects such as a statue honoring “The Great Unsung Heroes of Paperclip Management” and “World’s Largest Rubber Band Ball.” Those priorities, they claim, must come before paying nurses a living wage. In a desperate, yet comical attempt to make their voices heard, nurses have organized a series of unique fundraising events, including professional wrestling matches against inflatable dolls, bake sales featuring only gluten-filled pastries (for maximum health irony), and a twitch-streaming marathon of Nurse Betty attempting to navigate the labyrinth of hospital bureaucracy without losing her sanity. “It’s a challenge, but it’s important to keep the humor alive while we scrape together pennies to get a new stethoscope,” she added, while applying a “Be Kind to Your Nurse” Band-Aid to her own bandaged hand. The rallies have drawn attention, partly due to the chanting of slogans such as “No Band-Aid for the Broken System!” and “Nurses Need Funds, Not Just Fun!” that echo through the hospital hallways. One nurse, sporting a T-shirt that reads “Save the Nurses, Spend Less on Statues,” noted, “We want the city to understand that funding isn’t just about numbers; it’s about saving lives—including our own! If I have to quit my second job as a barista in the break room just to make rent, something is amiss.” Meanwhile, the hospital administration has responded with a statement arguing that "funding is indeed complicated," even as they proceed to allocate more budget to an intricate art installation titled "Emotional Labor: A Canvas of Pain." They maintain that this project will inspire both staff and patients, while secretly hoping that no one notices the mounting medical bills on the waiting room table. Although their situation is desperate, the nurses remain undeterred. As they gather for their weekly “Support Group for the Emotionally Bandaged,” laughter can still be heard cutting through the gloom. "We have plenty of band-aids for wounds," Nurse Betty concluded, with a resigned chuckle, "but we sure could use some for our bruised hearts and wallets too." As community members ponder how to show their support, they have started a new trend: paying nurses in homemade cookies, good vibes, and clever puns. It turns out that "a cookie for a bandage”—even if the cookie crumbles—might be the only currency left in this bittersweet comedy of errors.