"Hey, guy." "No, this is Ray." He smiled, leaned back in his chair. It was, of course, Pete. Pete was the night shift guy at Crossroads Detox across town. Ray called it the Jesus Shop because it was wholly supported by a contingent of local churches who saw addicts as a potential ministry. Apparently Jesus saved--not only from sin and hell, but also from Dark Eyed Jim Beam. Pete was a relatively innocuous born again fundie who volunteered his time two or three nights a week. When he was not saving the world, his Clark Kent was actually a steady CPA job with the local H&R Block. He'd been pulling shifts for about six months, knew nothing about drugs beyond that bad people used them to escape their problems and that they were tools of Satan, and he always needed Ray's advice about one thing or another. This arrangement was not problematic as Pete had long ago given up trying to convert him. Pete was also the only guy in the city who was, as Ray figured it, making less money than he was at such an hour. In return for Ray's magnanimity, Pete had done Ray's taxes for free last year. They had never actually met, though Ray had faxed him the tax forms and Pete had faxed back a photo of his two pre-teen daughters and his geriatric Lab. "What's the problem?" Ray asked. "I have a recalcitrant." That's what he called them, the drunk and definitely disorderly. Pete's vocabulary did not include the word shithead either in its singular or plural. "Pete, they're all like that. Alcohol is bad medicine. That's why places like ours are in business. To make them calcitrant." "I know that." Pete sounded a little annoyed. There was some commotion in the background, a knocking on doors. Question: What are Pete's religious beliefs? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Atheist
- Satanist
- not enough information
- Christian

Answer: Christian

Question: Both gross and tragic. The 1980 Bank Robbery in Central Nyack that was medically managed at the Nyack Hospital where I responded to the ONLY Code 66 of my career. That "66"indicated for us an external disaster about to unload in our emergency room. The two policemen who were mortally injured and died on our stretchers were personal friends and one the boyfriend of one of the nurses. Their injuries were from machine guns where the flesh is riddled with explosive elements as opposed to a gunshot wounds where there is both an entry and exit site. In our Trauma and Triage Course we never learned about machine gun injuries. Additionally there were the criminals who were also injured and of course we needed to treat them as any other patient regardless of their behavior. The friends of the injured policemen were trying to get to these villains and it was just the most awful evening of my life. To this day I remember feeling nauseous in a way I had never felt before. We had debriefing sessions for weeks and of course were very upset for months. The wounds we had to address, the insertion of chest tubes and everything else all in such a rapid manner was indeed a more than gross situation. There was even open heart massage. Private doctors reported to help; many are not trained or current in emergency medicine; much is left to critical care nurses in a community hospital that is not a teaching institution with residents and interns on staff. Recently one of the women involved in this crime came up for parole. Of course there was great opposition from the community relative to her release. She was young and that was 38 years ago. I believe people deserve a second chance, but of course this is a very controversial matter. Question: How long did it take to treat the victims of the bank robbery? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- a few hours
- a few days
- a few months
Answer: a few hours

input with options: When I first started out in the field, I was working at a private hospital in the locked psychiatric unit, and there was a call from one of the med floors requiring someone from our unit to assist with a problem of a young man who had bitten through his cotton restraints on his wrists. They were requesting he be restrained with leather ones. I had not done any restraining and was asked to assist a woman counselor to show me the ropes (no pun intended). When we arrived in the patients room, I was shocked to see a man in his early 20's flailing around spasmodically on the bed with his gums bleeding in between his teeth. The nurse informed us that the patient was dying of a liver disease and his body and brain had become toxic, causing delirium. The counselor instructed me to hold down his arms and she placed him in leather restraints which were fastened to the side of the bed. The most upsetting thing which to this day I can not remove from memory was this man literally snapping his jaws at me like a mad animal with traumatized bloody gums from biting so hard on the cloth restraints. There was nothing I, or anyone could do, except keep him restrained from hurting himself or others. It is the kind of witness to suffering I had never experienced before, and I felt almost relieved when the nurse quietly said, " He will die before morning. " I suppose what is so traumatic about witnessing such situations is the utter sense of helplessness. I was a trained therapist, and in this situation, I was unable to do anything, and was rendered powerless. I recall being plagued by this young man's face for some time when I tried to go to sleep at night. Bruce Kugler Question: What is the most likely outcome for someone with the same liver disease once their body and brain becomes toxic? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- they become delirious
- not enough information
- they die soon after
- they become violent
output: they die soon after

Question: April 2-May 2 is the worst 30 day period for me. The reason is April 2, 2014 was the day my 53 year old wife found out that she had metastasized lung cancer. A large tumor had formed on the bottom of one lung, they found 4 tumors in her brain, another large one in her stomach and several more throughout her intestinal track. She rarely complained about physical problems and I knew something was wrong when she said she needed to go to the hospital ER. She died exactly 30 days later. I spent virtually every minute of that time with her. I went with her to radiation appointments. I stayed in the hospital with her because it seemed like every week I would have to take her in for something that required a 3 or 4 day stay. And the final trip to the ER was May 1st. An MRI showed that one of the tumors in her intestines had torn a hole in her bowel. The ER surgeon told us straight up that she was beyond any medical care that could help her and to use the next 24 hours to say goodbye to family and friends. And almost exactly 24 hours later, she was gone. I was devastated. 30.5 years of Happily Ever After turned into god fucking damn it all to hell! And when April 2 rolls around every year, I begin living those last 30 days of her life over again. I thought that after the third time in 2017 that I was about ready to let it go. I started really living again instead of just existing. But when April 2 came this year, I found that I was back in my memories. It was easier to deal with this time because of the way I had changed over the last year. I hung around with more friends and they helped distract me and one actually helped me turn May 2 into a celebration. And I love her for that. That's my story. Question: After the end of this story, the storyteller is probably: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Pitiful
- Sad
- Raging
- not enough information
Answer:
Sad