Daily Passage Test for CLAT - Aug 19 MCQs & solutions Free

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
[Extracted with edits and revisions from 'Winning At Life: A Professor Fights Back Bouts Of Cancer and Certain Death, Reader's Digest]

Q. Which of the following statements about the author can we make based on the passage?

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
[Extracted with edits and revisions from 'Winning At Life: A Professor Fights Back Bouts Of Cancer and Certain Death, Reader's Digest]

Q. How did the author respond, according to the passage, to her ultrasound and cytology test results?

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
[Extracted with edits and revisions from 'Winning At Life: A Professor Fights Back Bouts Of Cancer and Certain Death, Reader's Digest]

Q. Why did the author cry after learning she had cancer because she was remembering her father?

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
[Extracted with edits and revisions from 'Winning At Life: A Professor Fights Back Bouts Of Cancer and Certain Death, Reader's Digest]

Q. What was the initial reaction of the author upon discovering the bright red flower on their right breast?

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Dad looked at the lines on my palm and said, "You'll live to be 90, my child." The day I was diagnosed with cancer, five decades later, I thought of him and wept.
I was at the Indian Institute of Technology, Mumbai in October 2007. At 58, I looked 40, bursting with energy and passion for my work. At the end of the workshop, while changing my clothes, I stood transfixed before the mirror, staring at the bright red flower glaring back at me from my right breast. I was sure it wasn't there the day before. My heart pounding, I returned home to Pune and rushed to the doctor who recommended an ultrasound and a fine needle aspiration cytology. Both tested positive for malignancy.
When I picked up the reports in a daze, I wondered, how could this be happening to me? Leaning against the tall hospital pillar, I shivered like a leaf while breaking the news to my family—stage-three breast cancer.
My treatment began straight away. First, I underwent a radical mastectomy. Then came the chemo. Six cycles of chemo later, it was time for 33 rounds of radiation. After the fourth, I was lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. I was told later that I had suffered a mild stroke but was lucky the clot had passed on.
I soon realized that if I was going to have any chance at life again, I had to take control of my disease, instead of allowing it to overpower me as it had done until now. On 19 April 2008, a day after my treatment ended, I tied a scarf around my hairless head and flew to Chandigarh to train Rotary Club leaders in soft skills. A burning desire to get a hold of life, and find purpose pushed me forward and distracted me from that terrifying thought—What if the cancer returned?
While I focused on regaining normalcy, I was unaware of a developing crisis. In 2009, a 2D echocardiogram reported an inexplicable drop in my heart's pumping rate from 65 to 55 per cent. I was anxious but doctors allayed my fears. Three years later drained, breathless and perspiring, I was carried to a car that conveyed me to the hospital once again. It was not a heart attack, but my survival was at stake.
A year later, I learnt that a drug administered to me during chemo had damaged it. I was in shock. I restarted meditation and visualization to feel more positive. Work was my mainstay, my hope and source of comfort. That and a nightly prayer pushed the thought of death away.
[Extracted with edits and revisions from 'Winning At Life: A Professor Fights Back Bouts Of Cancer and Certain Death, Reader's Digest]

Q. How did the author cope with the challenges posed by cancer and its treatment?