Q: Valentine's Day sucks. Which may sound odd coming from someone who ceaselessly praises love and sex, but it is true. I am not a fan. My mother and father were married in a small Baptist Church on Valentine's Day in 1959. They are no longer together. They are still technically married but my father now lives in a residential care home for dementia patients and my mother lives alone. My father's disease makes him angry and aggressive leaving my mother with blurred and fading memories of his kindness. It is a sad day for all those whose partners are transformed into strangers by illnesses. Some things aren't fair. It is my step(ish) daughter's birthday on Valentine's Day (I am not married to my boyfriend so I can't claim to be a step-mum and there is no other term for it). The end of my boyfriend's marriage has put continents between him and his children. When he hangs up the phone after talking to his daughter, his eyes are dark with pain. It is a sad day for all those whose love is diluted by oceans. Some things can't be changed. I remember the last Valentine's Day I spent with my ex-husband. I was a couple of weeks away from moving out but I hadn't told him yet. I felt sick and scared and heartbroken. My husband and I passed the entire day without speaking. As I stood on the edge of the cliff summoning up the courage to jump, I felt entirely alone. It is a sad day for all those whose love has withered away. Some things can't be fixed. I want to believe that "love is all you need" because it feels as though it could almost be true, but then I remember, on days like this, that for as many hearts that sing, there are equally as many that struggle to beat. What does the author believe? A. Some things can't be changed B. Valentine's Day sucks C. Many hearts struggle to beat D. not enough information
A: D

Q: The address I had been given was a flophouse called Casa Salvador in the scummy side of downtown, the part where the city's redevelopment (read: "gentrification") efforts hadn't yet managed to drive out the sundry undesirable elements. I walked inside past the front lobby. I could tell the desk manager wanted to hassle me, but he was too busy arguing with a middle-aged peroxide-blonde woman in a leopard-print top. Her skin was leathery and weather beaten, and I guessed she was the type who was actually a good ten years younger than she looked. I made my way up the narrow staircase that smelled of urine and bleach, going all the way to the third floor. I continued down the dimly lit hallway, past a series of closed doors that muffled the sounds of women faking moans of pleasure. Room 313 was down at the far end of the hall, and its door was already slightly ajar. I knocked anyways, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open just enough to poke my head in, I called, "Hello? Is anybody in there?" There was no response, so I went in and felt along the wall for the light switch. A single weak bulb came on, lighting up the tiny, sparse room with a dim yellow glow. The room was about 8 feet by 8 feet, and the only furniture was a dingy, unmade bed and a metal foot locker. There were no windows, no closet, and no bathroom. As I stepped all the way in, I noticed a wooden baseball bat propped up beside the door. My watch said 6:20 - twenty minutes late for the interview. I sat on the edge of the bed to wait, hoping that maybe my contact had just stepped out momentarily. After a few minutes, a phone started ringing out in the hallway. I let it ring six times with no one answering before I decided to get it - partly in the off chance it was my contact, but mostly out of morbid curiosity as to what kind of business someone would have calling this dump. Who was the peroxide-blonde women arguing with? A. Women faking moans of pleasure B. not enough information C. The desk manager D. The contact
A: C

Q: As a nurse, what is the most difficult news you have ever had to break to a patient? Sadly in my job (Ob/gyn nurse) there is one thing I have to report fairly often, that a pregnancy is not going to happen. Sometimes the mom's are bleeding and they kind of know that this is going to happen, but sometimes, they are not bleeding and it is a gut punch without any warning. This can be an ultrasound that shows no heartbeat or a lab test that is declining. Nothing is worse than the look on a woman's face when she is looking forward to her first glimpse of her baby only to be told that the baby is not alive. It doesn't get any easier, no matter how many times you do it. My own daughter called me one day to announce she was pregnant and two days later, we found out she was miscarrying and I bawled all day. I never even knew this baby, but now, 15 years later, just writing this now is making my eyes water. I have to do a lot of this over the phone and that makes it even harder because I am not able to offer comfort and I don't know where they are or what they are doing when they get this news. If they call me for their lab results, they might be driving, they might be walking around the mall, they will have to call their significant other and break the news, such difficult conversations to have over the phone. I have been very, very lucky that the few times I have seen advanced pregnancies that underwent a fetal demise were handled by the physicians that I have worked with. I can't imagine being almost ready to deliver and having all your hopes and dreams crushed. Obstetricians sometimes have the very best job, bringing new lives into the world and seeing the new families bonding, but sometimes they also have the very worst job. When does the nurse have to give bad news? A. Before a person becomes pregnant. B. After a person is bleeding. C. After a person gives birth. D. not enough information
A: B

Q: I already gave this example in another post but I think it was a really interesting situation with an interesting outcome so I'm going to repeat it. When I was 21 years old I produced a play. It was actually my second. The first was really successful. With the second I bit off a lot more than I could chew and I got too big for my britches and I ended up with a sprawling money eating disaster that caused me to have to move to a poor part of town and to go to court with my publicist and to be in debt for a couple of years. I could have absolutely let this ruin me and discourage me. And I realized this was a very delicate situation for my creativity and my sense of hope for the future. So I said to myself one day, "let me take a walk to the park and have this situation out with myself once and for all." Two blocks from my house was this wonderful neo classical park with beautiful stairs leading from level to level. I walked up and down the stairs and basically said to myself "this was a failure. I am having a failure experience. But I have a choice of how I look at this. And the big Takeaway for me with this experience is that I have talent and there is a big creative future for me. And I have hope. I have to slow down. I have to make sure I don't get ahead of myself. I definitely have to clean up this mess and be patient for however long it takes . But bottom line the big take away from this experience is that I have talent and I have a future and I have Hope." It was one of the most amazing moments I've ever had with myself. There are about 100 other experiences in my life where I wish I had had a conversation like this. This one was a treasure. How long did it take to realize his play was a failure? A. A few days B. Several weeks C. A few months D. not enough information
A: B