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. According to the above context, answer the following question. What is probably true about the nurse?
OPTIONS:
- He is still feeling awful
- Still remembers the only Code 66 of his career
- not enough information
- He is still feeling nauseous
Still remembers the only Code 66 of his career

Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. According to the above context, answer the following question. After the story, Morzeny most likely:
OPTIONS:
- Shows the apartment to prospective buyers
- not enough information
- Quits his job
- Goes blind

Answer: Shows the apartment to prospective buyers

I ducked, Cerberus pounced, and Mr. Waciejowski screamed like a dying ferret--a soothing and pleasant sound under most other circumstances, but now only distracting. I felt the rush of air against my face as the crowbar skimmed my head. The man wielding it was in a black three-piece suit and built like a Texas linebacker. His mass seemed to bend space-time in the parking lot as he barreled down on me. All I could see was nearly seven feet of Armani silk. I stood upright and brought my knee into his groin and gave him a swift elbow in the small of his back and a fist to the base of his skull. Now, I wasn't the biggest guy in the world, but I certainly wasn't the smallest either. And I was also acutely aware of how much damage I could do to another human being. But this hulking mass in Italian finery didn't even seem phased. The blows I sent this guy should have dropped him like a bag of wet cement, but he just turned and hamstringed me with that damn crowbar. I fell so hard that one of my teeth chipped. The box flew out of my grip and landed just a few feet away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Pete on the ground, fumbling with his cell phone while Cerberus mauled another suit trying to sneak up behind me. If the fall hadn't knocked the wind out of me, seeing Cerberus tear into this guy certainly would have. The dog was all fangs and fur, making sounds like construction machinery. Thick and heavy. The guy was screaming all kinds of nonsense as he kept his shredded arms in front of his face and neck. Blood and fabric flew about as the animal tossed its head in violent arcs. According to the above context, answer the following question. The narrator belives
OPTIONS:
- His opponent is weak
- His opponent is very strong
- not enough information
- His opponent is small
His opponent is very strong