You are in a train on a horizontal track and notice that a p…
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Yоu аre in а trаin оn a hоrizontal track and notice that a piece of luggage starts to slide directly towards the back of the train. From this observation you can conclude that the train is
Find the аpprоpriаte diаgnоsis fоr Quentin McCarthy and write it correctly, including any specifiers and severity. (Four points)write one treatment goal to ameliorate or resolve Quentin McCarthy ‘s symptoms (one point)Quentin McCarthy "I can get off it, but I can't stay off it." Quentin McCarthy was 43, and he was talking about alcohol. He liked to say that throughout his adult life, he had been successful at two things---drinking and selling insurance. Now, he was having trouble with both. Quentin was the second of three sons born to parents who were both attorneys. Both of his brothers had been excellent students. Quentin was bright, but he had been hyperactive and the class clown. In school, he had never been able to focus his attention well enough to excel at anything but physical education. To please his parents, after high school, Quentin tried a semester of junior college. It was worse than high school-the only thing that kept him going was guilt. Whereas his older brother was admitted to law school (with honors at the entrance) and his younger brother mopped up the prizes at the state science fair, Quentin felt almost joyful when his birthday was that year's number four pick in the national draft lottery. The following day, he enlisted in the Army. Somewhere in his schooling, Quentin learned to type, so he was assigned to his battalion's administrative section. Throughout four years in the military, he never fired his weapon in anger. By comparison with some of the older men, his drinking was moderate. Although he had about the usual number of fights, he managed to avoid serious trouble. When he left the service at age 22, he had held onto his sergeant's stripes through two tours of duty in Vietnam. After that, life suddenly became serious. Working part-time after hours in the post exchange, Quentin had discovered that he was a natural salesman. So it seemed a logical move to take a job selling life insurance. It also seemed sensible to marry the boss's daughter. When his father-in-law died suddenly two years later, Quentin became sole proprietor of the agency. "The business made me and it ruined me," he said. ''I made a lot of money having lunch with people and selling them large policies. I told myself that I had to drink with them in order to make a sale, but I suppose that was just rationalization." As time went on, Quentin's two-martini lunches turned into four-martini lunches. By the time he was 31, he was skipping lunch completely and nipping throughout the afternoon to "keep a glow on." At the end of the day, he was sometimes surprised to see how much had disappeared from the bottle he kept in his desk drawer. The past year had brought Quentin two unpleasant surprises. The first came when his doctor informed him that the nagging pain just above his navel was an ulcer; for the sake of his health, he would have to stop drinking. The second, which in a way seemed worse because it injured his pride, occurred one afternoon over lunch. A long-time client of the agency apologetically said that he would be taking his substantial business elsewhere; his wife didn't feel comfortable that he was "doing business with a lush." Thinking back, Quentin realized that there had been several other, less blatant instances of customers departing the fold. The result had been his resolve to quit, or at least to reduce the amount of his drinking. ("Quitting is easy," he remarked ruefully. "I did it twice in one month.") At first, he promised himself he would not drink before 5 p.m.; that proved impractical, and he later amended it to "around lunchtime." With the level in his desk drawer bottle receding as fast as ever, Quentin decided he would try Alcoholics Anonymous. "That was worse than useless," he explained. "The stories I heard from some of those people made me feel like a teetotaler." A comment made by his wife, herself no stranger to alcohol, eventually brought him in for evaluation. "You used to drink to have a good time," she told him. "Now you drink because you need it."