Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Yes. I had a stress heart attack five years ago. My step-son is a heroin addict. He will be on an opioid agonist for the rest of his life. His behavior mirrored the worst of what addicts do to a family. I was desperate to make a change, and my husband was desperate to save his son's life. That meant having to watch my husband support my step-son as he abused me and my children. Multiple criminal behaviors, many times the police came to the house, two convictions, long-term parole. Watching him threaten to kill me, kill his father, and kill his younger brother and sister. Add to that a very stress job situation with a new boss who decided he needed a new VP, but had no basis to terminate my employment, so instead was determined to make my work life a living hell on earth. So, yep, I had a heart attack. I'm still angry at everything that led up to the heart attack. I'm working really hard on forgiving my husband, forgiving my step-son, and the overwhelming guilt of my children seeing me as an accomplice to their abuse. I found a new job, and then had the pleasure of seeing my former boss fired by the Board of Directors. Since then I find I'm hyper-vigilant in issues of child abuse, worker abuse, addiction, lying and deceit (Trump trigger), and feeling somewhat betrayed by my husband. I honestly think if it had been one of my children doing the abusing, I would have found a way to put my child into long-term rehab. I would not have pretended it wasn't happening, or "not that bad" or other form of denial. As is, I lived through this hell for two years, and a part of me will never forgive for how it all came about. Probably TMI, sorry. Becky Question: Becky's illness probably lasted Answer:
OPTIONS:
- 30 years
- 40 years
- several hours
- not enough information
Answer: several hours

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Out of boredom, two scientists from the New Contagious Diseases Research Centre devised themselves a new game. One day, as a result of the suspension of a research project dealing with a dynamically mutating vaccine following the pattern of the eyesocket flu bacillus, they had absolutely nothing to do until the end of the day, because the boss didn't order them to wash test-tubes. They decided to play a game of hockey under the microscope. For a puck they used one of the millions of experimental bacillus, and one-arm pincettes, which as it happened also resembled hockey sticks, served as sticks. The bacillus was not happy with it at all. It wanted to rest after an exhausting task involving vaccine discouragement, and these whitecoats here planned to put it to work yet again. And this time the work was much more labor-intensive and even more exhausting than before, but the condition and health of the tired bacillus not as good as in the times of youth, about two hours ago. The scientists got excited. On a microscope slide they etched a hockey rink with laser, agreed on the rules, connected the microscope's camera to the big screen display and played until the morning. They had to change pucks several times, but that was fine, they had millions of them in stock. The next day they didn't have anything to do either and they continued to play. They even invited other colleagues and the popularity of the game was so huge they could afford to play it in a championship system. Soon, the games were joined by the guys from the car-repair garage next door. They were tough opponents and even tougher fans - they took from the lab and carried away with them several flasks and some equipment, as it turned out - to set up their own game station in pit number 5. Question: When did the scientists invent the new game? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- When they wanted to play hockey
- When they had nothing else to do
- not enough information
- When they wanted to meet the guys from car-repair
output: When they had nothing else to do

Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: "Please remember me to myself!" When sliding toward mania in 2016, I begged this of my therapist. He cocked his head. "What do you mean?" I had no ideaon a conscious levelwhat I was asking for, just that I felt in a desperate sense that the self I knew was slipping away. An inability to recognize myself either in my writing or in reflecting upon my own actions was taking over. And then? I didn't care. I wanted to kiss girls. Which is finejust not something I ordinarily do. I wanted to drink, smoke. Again, finebut not something I ordinarily do. "Do I seemokay?" I asked a colleague at work. A woman I barely knew. Insanely, I thought that since she worked with disabled students, many of whom struggled with mental illness, she would know mania when she saw it. This was a rather foolish assumptionespecially since she's an educator, not a psychiatrist, especially with how skilled I am at wearing the mask of calm, the face of sanity. "You seem great, Julie. Cheery. Professional as always." I let her reassurance placate me. Wanted to be placated. Yet, within months I lost my job. And not only that, but a chance at a scholarship, two really important long term friendshipsrelationships I'd enjoyed since high school. I was hospitalized three times between September and February. I lost my ability to trust myself, lost my mind. It is now a little over two years since I first felt that sliding. Twenty-six months since I knew that somewhere in the deepest parts of who I am, I was slipping. Nine seasons since I begged Dr. Poe, "Remember me to myself!" I'm still recuperating. Yes. I have felt like I wasn't me. Question: Julie was employed at the job she mentioned losing for how long? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- 2 months
- not enough information
- 20 years
- 2 years

A:
2 years