What current does the microcurrent use?

very low frequency microcurrent

very low intensity microcurrent

What current does the high frequency machine use?

rapidly alternating or oscillating current

what current does the galvanic machine use?

low frequency, constant direct current

Progession quiz on electrical therapy

Create a vocabulary quiz for 10th grade EFL students at CEFR B1 level. For example: adequate means: 1. sufficient 2. more and more 3. not enough. Use all the vocabulary below and provide accompanying definitions per the example to create this vocabulary quiz. The vocabulary quiz must contain at least 226 questions including the following vocabulary: addition advance advanced advertising among other things analysis appear approach as at least average be responsible for something be responsible for doing something before besides can challenge chance change characteristic claim come after come first come last common complicated concern conditions conduct consequence considerable cope critic current decrease delayed deliberately demonstrate design destruction development disagreement disaster discovery dislike do doubt drop educate efficient emphasis enjoyable essay essentially even if even though event exactly except that exist extraordinary feature feedback figure financial finding findings flexible flood flu focus on somebody or something focus frequent fresh frighten from gain generate guidance hopefully ideal illness illustrate image in terms of something in actual fact in connection with something in that case in the meantime initial instruction intelligence interest introduce invest investigate just about just about keep on doing something kind of knowledge lack landscape likely limited little look at something low material mean means measure mention miss misunderstand more or less must naturally nature necessarily nevertheless not at all not only notice objective occasional official on the one hand on the other hand once others otherwise out of date participate particular past perform personality personally planet planning plant point of view policy pollution popular population prevent priority private probable produce profession professor proof proposed protest provided (that) psychology public purpose quality question question questionnaire react reasonable recommend recycle regard region regular relevant reliable rely on/upon sb/sth request research result review revise risk run out of rural salary sample seldom sense set up sth or set sth up significant skilled slight specialist specific still structure study supposed surface take advantage of sth thanks to somebody or something theory throw away throw out something throw something away throw out transport trash treatment unfortunately unhealthy unique united universe unknown unlike unlikely urban vary view visible vision volume whom wildlife within worthwhile would additional analyze analyst appearance on average change characterize complicate concerned concerning concerned with something consequently cope with something criticize criticism currently deliberate demonstration designer developing developed educated educator efficiency efficiently emphasize enjoyment existence existing figure out something finance flexibility frequency hopeful illustration initially intelligent interested in something investor investment investigation investigator limitation meaning occasionally old-fashioned participant participation particularly performance planned pollute prevention producer professional psychological psychologist publicly reaction reasonably recommendation regardless regarding regional relevance researcher resulting revision sensible set out something set something out significantly significance skillful slightly specialize specifically specify theoretical transportation unfortunate unity unite universal variation viewer

The Pedestrian (adapted) by Ray Bradbury Mr. Leonard Mead loved to walk outside at night. The city was quiet at eight o’clock on a misty November evening. He liked to put his hands in his pockets and stroll along the cracked sidewalks, stepping over grass that grew between the concrete. He would stop at the corners, look down the empty streets, and choose which way to go. It didn’t really matter which way he picked, because he was always alone in the year 2053. Sometimes, Mr. Mead would walk for hours and miles, coming home only at midnight. As he walked, he saw houses with their windows dark, like he was walking through a graveyard. Sometimes, he saw tiny flashes of light from behind curtains or heard soft voices from open windows. Mr. Mead wore sneakers so his footsteps wouldn’t make noise. If he wore shoes with hard heels, the dogs would bark and people might look out their windows. He liked being quiet and unnoticed as he walked in the cool November air. On this night, Mr. Mead walked west, toward the sea. The air was cold and frosty, making his nose sting and his lungs feel fresh. He listened to the sound of his shoes in the fallen leaves and sometimes picked up a leaf to look at it under the streetlights. As he walked, he whispered to the houses, “Hello in there. What’s on TV tonight? Where are the cowboys? Is the cavalry coming?” But the street was silent and empty, with only his shadow moving. He checked his watch. “Eight-thirty. Is it time for a quiz show? Or a funny show?” He thought he heard laughter from a house, but nothing else happened. He kept walking, sometimes stumbling over the broken sidewalk. In all his years of walking, he had never seen another person out at night. He reached a big intersection where two highways crossed. During the day, it was full of cars, but now it was empty and quiet, like a dry riverbed. Mr. Mead turned onto a side street, heading home. Suddenly, a police car turned the corner and shined a bright light on him. He stood still, surprised by the light. A metallic voice from the car said, “Stand still. Don’t move! Put up your hands!” Mr. Mead obeyed. The police car asked, “What’s your name?” “Leonard Mead,” he answered. “What’s your job?” “I guess I’m a writer,” Mr. Mead said. The police car replied, “No profession.” Mr. Mead hadn’t written anything in years, since people didn’t buy books or magazines anymore. People just stayed inside their houses, watching TV. The car asked, “What are you doing out?” “I’m walking,” Mr. Mead said. “Walking? Just walking?” the car repeated. “Yes,” he said. “Where are you walking? Why?” “For air. To see things,” Mr. Mead answered. “Your address?” “Eleven South Saint James Street.” “Do you have air in your house? An air conditioner?” “Yes.” “Do you have a TV?” “No.” “No?” The car was quiet for a moment. “Are you married?” “No,” Mr. Mead said. “Not married,” the car said. The night was cold and quiet. “Just walking, Mr. Mead?” “Yes.” “But why?” “I told you. For air, to see, and just to walk.” “Do you do this often?” “Every night for years.” The police car was silent for a moment. Then it said, “Get in.” The back door opened. “Wait, I haven’t done anything!” Mr. Mead protested. “Get in,” the car repeated. Mr. Mead looked into the car. There was no one inside, just an empty front seat. The back seat was like a small jail cell, cold and hard. “Where are you taking me?” he asked. The car answered, “To the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.” Mr. Mead got in. The door closed, and the car drove away through the empty streets. As they passed his house, he saw that all the lights were on. “That’s my house,” he said, but no one answered. The car drove off into the night, leaving the streets empty and silent for the rest of the cold November night.

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