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. When did this hospital scenario occur? A. After the 1980 Bank Robbery B. During the 1980 Bank Robbery C. Before the 1980 Bank Robbery D. not enough information
A

(Question)
It's often difficult to remember how or why you became friends with someone, especially if you've been friends with a person forever. But because of the very specific set of circumstances, I remember exactly how Barend and I became friends. This, of course, was long before he became famous for inventing the easy-foldable map, and infamous for the series of bodies he'd decided to bury in his backyard. Barend and I became friends because he had one of the most attractive shadows I'd ever seen. I remember gazing out over the playground, watching a waning sun scatter its dying light over the monkey bars, the metal skeleton contrasting against the turquoise sky, when I noticed this kid coming toward me. He was one of those mostly invisible characters; faded jeans, dirty jacket, snot caked on his upper lip. I probably wouldn't have noticed him if not for his shadow. For some reason, his shadow immediately caught my eye. Now, I'm not one for noticing shadows in general, never really noticed a shadow before or since, but this kid had the most incredible shadow I'd ever seen. I cannot even put in words what that means. What specific set of properties make an ordinary shadow into an incredible one, I'm not sure anyone can, but his shadow was like a piece of art; I didn't necessarily understand it, but I liked it. And that's why this boring looking kid and I first became friends. Our kindergarten games were harmless and boring, but when puberty hit, Barend began to change. We were both expected to change, but I guess some kids just change more than others. Bared didn't want to kill at first. Like many overachievers in the death game, his first brush with the craft came about more or less accidentally. All the elements had been in place, with all the players and attributes coming together as if gathered by some evil force, but, even then, I really had to push the kid. What games did they play during kindergarten? A. tag, B. hide-and-seek, C. not enough information D. house
(Answer)
C

Question: My mother's shopping lists were ordered by rules known only to her. As you slid your finger down the columns of groceries and toiletries, you would invariably be stopped by something along the lines of "2dozjumHerbal Essences" or "1pepperoni TC," with the "TC" underlined twice and flanked by gnarled masses of pencil scratch-outs. When we were kids, we dreaded accompanying her to Wal-Mart, or worse, the Cosco at the edge of town, where the echoing rafters and limitless aisles seemed to mock the confusion into which we were inevitably thrown when handed torn-off fragments of the list. Of course, it was easy enough to see in hindsight that "2dozjumHerbal Essences" was merely the bastard child of two drunkenly weaving columns--we had been supposed to get two dozen jumbo eggs and a bottle of my mother's favourite brand of shampoo (ever inventive in creating proprietary abbreviations--"TC" standing for, what else, thin crust pizza--my mother scrupulously wrote out brand names in full). It was a little like ordering chemicals for a laboratory, sans any knowledge of chemistry--or, for that matter, laboratories, although my ignorance of the distinction between baking soda and baking powder cannot be entirely the root of my confusion. Eventually I--and my siblings--learned the difference between tomato paste and tomato sauce, and could readily distinguish one brand of laundry detergent from a similarly-styled knock-off, but my shame-faced trips back to the mothercart never ceased. I would track her down, most often in the produce section--she was usually loath to trust us with the delicate task of selecting the very best fruits and vegetables--and hand her back my portion of the list, asking for an explanation. Usually it amounted to a failure of awareness on my part--get the kind of soap we always get, of course! How many times did the author have to return to her mother for clarification? A. Once. B. Three times. C. Five times. D. not enough information
Answer:
D