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: why was Bruce traumatized by the event? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- he was punched in the face
- he was unable to help
- he saw the man's genitals
- not enough information

Answer: he was unable to help

Question: "That'll be $9.87." Rebecca Ranghorn flipped up the top of the box, pulled out a glazed donut, and took bite. The young secretary behind her looked on in disbelief. She was so ready for the weekend. But first she had to get to the office and put in her lousy eight hours. Why couldn't this woman just pay and get out of the way? Rebecca tossed the box at the clerk. A couple of donuts flew out and fell on the floor behind the counter. "Those are yesterday's donuts. I told you to give me the fresh ones." "But, ma'am, these are the fresh--." The look in her eyes stopped him cold. He dumped the box in the trash and picked out a fresher dozen. "Now, that'll be $9.87, please." "Keep your drawers on, Jack." She sampled the new batch. "That's more like it." She threw a ten dollar bill on the counter and walked out with her donuts and large bottle of orange juice. Her enormous black 1979 Lincoln Continental Town Car was four feet longer and twice the weight of the young secretary's Toyota Corolla parked next to it. It was costing her a fortune to drive her dad's old car. But it made her feel close to him--even though he had been dead for eleven years. She rarely had an occasion to drive out of town--and it was not a big town. Sherman, Texas has about 36,000 residents. She pulled into the old strip mall parking lot. Most of the stores and other businesses were barely hanging on. The place hadn't seen decent shopping traffic since the 1980s. But it was the perfect location for Rebecca and her partner. They didn't need shoppers. All they needed was cheap office space. Theirs was narrow, but deep, with a reception area, two offices and a bathroom. Question: Why did Rebecca throw the donuts at the cashier? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- They were out of orange juice
- They were yesterday's donuts
- They were too expensive
Answer: They were yesterday's donuts

input with options: As a new year is just around the corner, I, like many of you, am taking stock in my life. What I've done and what I'd like to do. How I've spent my time and how I want to use it going forward. I have goals for blogging, my Jamberry business, my health, homeschooling, and for my family. As I have pondered where I want things to go and how I can successfully make that happen, I have learned that I need to manage my time and energy differently in order to be successful in each area. The main obstacles standing in my way are, ironically, working from home and having my children with me 24/7. But, that was my choice and I'm sticking to it. My goal is to embrace these obstacles by approaching them in different ways. Work at Home Tips for Success Work at home tips can be implemented or not, depending on my needs. I am sure the same will be true for you. You may not need to get healthier or may not want to homeschool your children. So, your daily routine will be different from mine. However, I think these work at home tips can help any individual out there looking for more guidance. Work at Home Tip #1 Be productive. Well, duh! Of course that's what we would like to do, but have you ever worked all day and by the end of it, you have no idea what you really did? This likely means you are spending your time on things, but not on the most important things. For example, if your goal is to generate income, you want to be carving out time for income generating activities, not reorganizing a shelf or checking a facebook group for information. If your goal is to write a book, you want to be get ideas on paper or develop the plot, not have coffee to discuss your latest and greatest read with your bestie. Question: who is spending time on unimportant things? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- the reader
- the author
- not enough information
- the author's kids
output: the reader

Question: Dark meat in the can--brown, oily, and flecked with mucus--gave off a repellent, fishy smell, and the taste of it rose in his throat, putrid and bitter, like something from a dead man's stomach. George Jordan sat on the kitchen floor and vomited, then pushed himself away from the shining pool, which looked very much like what remained in the can. He thought, No, this won't do: I have wires in my head, and they make me eat cat food. The snake likes cat food He needed help but know there was little point in calling the Air Force. He'd tried them, and there was no way they were going to admit responsibility for the monster in his head. What George called the snake, the Air Force called Effective Human Interface Technology and didn't want to hear about any postdischarge problems with it. They had their own problems with congressional committees investigating "the conduct of the war in Thailand." He lay for a while with his cheek on the cold linoleum, got up and rinsed his mouth in the sink, then stuck his head under the faucet and ran cold water over it, thinking, Call the goddamned multicomp, then call SenTrax and say, "Is it true you can do something about this incubus that wants to take possession of my soul?" And if they ask you, "What's your problem?" you say "cat food," and maybe they'll say, "Hell, it just wants to take possession of your lunch" A chair covered in brown corduroy stood in the middle of the barren living room, a white telephone on the floor beside it, a television flat against the opposite waIl--that was the whole thing, what might have been home, if it weren't for the snake. He picked up the phone, called up the directory on its screen, and keyed TELECOM SENTRAX. Question: Who needed help? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- The Air Force.
- George.
- not enough information
- SenTrax.
Answer:
George.