I felt a brief prick on the pad of my right third finger. I did not say or do anything to alert the resident with whom I was working, but instead continued until the lumbar puncture on our patient with end-stage AIDS was finished. Then I stared at my glove before taking it off, putting it in a bag and then in my pocket so I could scrutinize it later, without arousing suspicion. I examined my finger and there was no puncture, no gash, and no blood. While I meticulously scrubbed my hands, I debated whether or not to call Employee Health. It was 11:45 p.m. and I was tired. I had a desperate urge to go home, kiss my kids, long asleep, and climb into bed with my husband. I did not want to make a big deal out of this in the middle of the night.