I'm a nosey sod. There, I've said it.
It's true. Whenever I see somebody reading a book, I've got to ask, what are they reading and why?
It's easy to know that if they're using the old style paperback book. But e-readers have come in to our world. And despite me swearing that I'd never use one, I found myself wanting to buy one last year purely because there were a couple of books that I wanted to buy and I didn't want wrist-ache with holding the heavy books.
Neal Stephenson's Reamde was one. At over 1000 pages, the guy knows how to tell a story.
E-readers have revolutionised the way reader's read. And equally the way writer's write. And get published. Some publish their first books for free and then charge a little for subsequent novels. Self publishing is a big thing on Amazaon UK and lots of new writers are blogging and tweeting about how to do it.
But what have you read recently? And what has influenced your choice?
There was controversy about six months as a couple of authors were found to be writing their own reviews. I suppose that's one way of self-promotion!
For me, I love books written in the first person. Add some thrills, a bit of science fiction and a sense of humour and I'm sold.
After numerous false starts I've finally got into the Harry Dresden series by Jim Butcher. Think Harry Potter for adults. Definitely not for children. Read the later ones in the series from the library and bought the earlier ones in the series straight to my Kindle.
Oh, and two about writing: Goals, Motivation and Conflict by Debra Dixon, and The Positively Productive Writer by Simon Whaley. Both were recommended by Nell Dixon, and they're changing the way that I think and plan my writing.
Hopefully the fruits of which you'll see sometime in the near future.
Take care
Joe
Sunday 22 September 2013
The Sound of (Almost) Silence.
It's very noisy in my head. Almost like an airport, a train station or a an accident and emergency ward (yep, let's be topical!).
Planes or trains or unwell people are like thoughts that fly through my head. Actually forget the first two metaphors, because the station and the airports (usually and hopefully) know exactly when said train or said plane is going to arrive. There are sophisticated procedures for helping them arrive and letting them go.
The A and E department, however is, yep, more like the thoughts in my head.
Unexpected.
But recently, the thoughts in my head are taking up more of my head space. And the reason for this is that I have slowly having a build up of ear wax. And by Friday morning, the final jigsaw piece was put into place.
It had to be Friday 13th. And I'm not superstitious.
And I was really struggling to hear. But before I go on, let me make one thing clear:
I am not. Deaf.
Being Deaf implies the complete absence of sound. I can hear – just very faintly. It's as if the hearing switch in my head has been turned to 1.5 (if 5 was normal and 10 was deafening). I can just about hear you. If you were talking to me. If you were facing me. If you are in the same room as me. Or on my mobile phone - I have to have my volume turned up, but yep, I can hear you. (Then it doesn't matter which way you are facing.).
Now, in some respects this alters my perceptions, because it has guided me to pay more attention to people's body language – so I've noticed more than I would if I could hear normally. So I've been more aware of that 90% of communication that we do. All of the non-verbal stuff.
And to be fair, I've noticed things about people, that I don't think that I would've picked up on before. For instance, when watching a conversation between two people, I've observed how the second person wasn't listening to what the first person was saying. They just wanted to get their point across.
But it also makes me aware of how much we rely on our senses, and how much we - or at least I – have taken them for granted.
I used to work with a group of visually impaired people to look at the technological aids that are available to help them have a better quality of life. And the group went well. Mostly. (That would be another story).
But as somebody who makes a career out of knowing about equipment to help people have a better quality of life, I also know that there are hearing aids and neck loop systems, etc, for people who have hearing loss (I've been told that that is term that is used now).
But this for me, is (hopefully) a temporary issue, one that hope the ear drops prescribed by my GP will help. If they don't then I'll have to go down the syringing route. Which (not being ironic) sounds scary.
It seems that every day brings me a fresh challenge. This is just another one of those.
Maybe its a Friday the 13th kind of thing.
And I'm still not superstitious.
Take care
Joe
Planes or trains or unwell people are like thoughts that fly through my head. Actually forget the first two metaphors, because the station and the airports (usually and hopefully) know exactly when said train or said plane is going to arrive. There are sophisticated procedures for helping them arrive and letting them go.
The A and E department, however is, yep, more like the thoughts in my head.
Unexpected.
But recently, the thoughts in my head are taking up more of my head space. And the reason for this is that I have slowly having a build up of ear wax. And by Friday morning, the final jigsaw piece was put into place.
It had to be Friday 13th. And I'm not superstitious.
And I was really struggling to hear. But before I go on, let me make one thing clear:
I am not. Deaf.
Being Deaf implies the complete absence of sound. I can hear – just very faintly. It's as if the hearing switch in my head has been turned to 1.5 (if 5 was normal and 10 was deafening). I can just about hear you. If you were talking to me. If you were facing me. If you are in the same room as me. Or on my mobile phone - I have to have my volume turned up, but yep, I can hear you. (Then it doesn't matter which way you are facing.).
Now, in some respects this alters my perceptions, because it has guided me to pay more attention to people's body language – so I've noticed more than I would if I could hear normally. So I've been more aware of that 90% of communication that we do. All of the non-verbal stuff.
And to be fair, I've noticed things about people, that I don't think that I would've picked up on before. For instance, when watching a conversation between two people, I've observed how the second person wasn't listening to what the first person was saying. They just wanted to get their point across.
But it also makes me aware of how much we rely on our senses, and how much we - or at least I – have taken them for granted.
I used to work with a group of visually impaired people to look at the technological aids that are available to help them have a better quality of life. And the group went well. Mostly. (That would be another story).
But as somebody who makes a career out of knowing about equipment to help people have a better quality of life, I also know that there are hearing aids and neck loop systems, etc, for people who have hearing loss (I've been told that that is term that is used now).
But this for me, is (hopefully) a temporary issue, one that hope the ear drops prescribed by my GP will help. If they don't then I'll have to go down the syringing route. Which (not being ironic) sounds scary.
It seems that every day brings me a fresh challenge. This is just another one of those.
Maybe its a Friday the 13th kind of thing.
And I'm still not superstitious.
Take care
Joe
Sunday 8 September 2013
Its.... ALIVE!!!!!!
After nearly 6 months without having a Intrathecal Baclofen implant. I have recently had one.... implanted. Technical I am a cyborg. Again.
That sounds very science-fiction-y. I am reborn. Sort of.
Readers to the previous entries will know that I have had an implant for the past 22 years - changed every 4-6 years of course (batteries don't last that long). Then in March, not long after my 40th Birthday, I was rushed to hospital with an infection and the implant was removed under emergency surgery. On a Sunday. That's how much of an emergency it was.
From that point in March I was concerned to hear that I would not be "re-implanted" until late August/September (well, I was told that, I think in May). Simply because the doctors wanted to be sure that the infection was gone before I underwent more surgery.
My concern was... how will I cope? After having Baclofen delivered intrathecally (inside the body, straight to where it was needed) for what amounts for over half my life, how would I live without it?
Well, obviously I survived, as I wouldn't be here writing this blog. (and it is me writing the blog - NOT the machine inside me). Although the computer inside me might disagree.
But I'm not Frankenstein's monster, despite the doctors using staples instead of sewing me up. I'm sure that they were sterilised first. They didn't just run back to the office and grab the stapler from the desk. Surely not.
Having an implant after a break of 5 months has changed my perspective on having it. After months of counting down to the surgery, and then having the surgery, I realised that although it was a difficult process, I did cope, although it wasn't without its challenges.
The whole reason for having a Baclofen implant is to improve the Quality of Life of a person.
Mine wasn't lost when the implant was removed in March, but life did certainly have more challenges. Relying upon oral medication was one of the main challenges. Dealing with the effects of taking oral medication was another. But I have to say that as the time grew closer
towards having the implant, I learned to adapt, even cope without it. People with disabilities - indeed all people - (humans) are very good at adapting.
But whilst I was adapting to life without an implant, I wasn't quite the same person that I had been before. Taking the Baclofen medication orally meant that I would have to be ready for the wave of inevitable fatigue that comes with taking the medication. Therefore I timed the dosages so that it would impact on my ability to drive. But yes, I admit it did slow me down at work. But I felt that being at work, I was more productive than not being there.
Now I have a new implant that wave of fatigue no longer hits me, as the dosage is computer controlled and continuous. And very low, because a lot isn't needed at the moment. But a dosage given internally is never the same as the strength of oral dosage, otherwise I probably wouldn't be able to feel my legs!
But for a while it was a strange feeling to have an implant again. Not just on the stretching of my skin, but also the weight of the implant felt strange and heavy. Like something was pressing on my stomach. Which it now is. Plus I have to face the face that there is a a slight raised protrusion on the right side of my stomach, which obviously is more visible when I take my clothes off.
Thankfully I don't do that in public very often.
At the moment, my level of physical activity is low, so my level of spasticity is controlled relatively easily with a low dosage, to the point that the implant needing to be refilled will be nearly 6 months away. As I become more active and start doing silly things like going back to work, that will change.
Whilst there are risks to any surgery, the benefits have paid off and I am part man, part machine. Again. My wholehearted gratitude goes to the relevant NHS staff. They know who they are.
Now I am home, I can spend lots of time reading the whole series of Harry Dresden novels by Jim Butcher. They are wonderful reading. Exciting, intriguing and very funny.
And I want to think about where the Portal is going (I need to revive that). And work on changing the way that I write so that it is more structured and less off-the-cuff. Boy that is a challenge! But a nice one. Not half as painful.
That sounds very science-fiction-y. I am reborn. Sort of.
Readers to the previous entries will know that I have had an implant for the past 22 years - changed every 4-6 years of course (batteries don't last that long). Then in March, not long after my 40th Birthday, I was rushed to hospital with an infection and the implant was removed under emergency surgery. On a Sunday. That's how much of an emergency it was.
From that point in March I was concerned to hear that I would not be "re-implanted" until late August/September (well, I was told that, I think in May). Simply because the doctors wanted to be sure that the infection was gone before I underwent more surgery.
My concern was... how will I cope? After having Baclofen delivered intrathecally (inside the body, straight to where it was needed) for what amounts for over half my life, how would I live without it?
Well, obviously I survived, as I wouldn't be here writing this blog. (and it is me writing the blog - NOT the machine inside me). Although the computer inside me might disagree.
But I'm not Frankenstein's monster, despite the doctors using staples instead of sewing me up. I'm sure that they were sterilised first. They didn't just run back to the office and grab the stapler from the desk. Surely not.
Having an implant after a break of 5 months has changed my perspective on having it. After months of counting down to the surgery, and then having the surgery, I realised that although it was a difficult process, I did cope, although it wasn't without its challenges.
The whole reason for having a Baclofen implant is to improve the Quality of Life of a person.
Mine wasn't lost when the implant was removed in March, but life did certainly have more challenges. Relying upon oral medication was one of the main challenges. Dealing with the effects of taking oral medication was another. But I have to say that as the time grew closer
towards having the implant, I learned to adapt, even cope without it. People with disabilities - indeed all people - (humans) are very good at adapting.
But whilst I was adapting to life without an implant, I wasn't quite the same person that I had been before. Taking the Baclofen medication orally meant that I would have to be ready for the wave of inevitable fatigue that comes with taking the medication. Therefore I timed the dosages so that it would impact on my ability to drive. But yes, I admit it did slow me down at work. But I felt that being at work, I was more productive than not being there.
Now I have a new implant that wave of fatigue no longer hits me, as the dosage is computer controlled and continuous. And very low, because a lot isn't needed at the moment. But a dosage given internally is never the same as the strength of oral dosage, otherwise I probably wouldn't be able to feel my legs!
But for a while it was a strange feeling to have an implant again. Not just on the stretching of my skin, but also the weight of the implant felt strange and heavy. Like something was pressing on my stomach. Which it now is. Plus I have to face the face that there is a a slight raised protrusion on the right side of my stomach, which obviously is more visible when I take my clothes off.
Thankfully I don't do that in public very often.
At the moment, my level of physical activity is low, so my level of spasticity is controlled relatively easily with a low dosage, to the point that the implant needing to be refilled will be nearly 6 months away. As I become more active and start doing silly things like going back to work, that will change.
Whilst there are risks to any surgery, the benefits have paid off and I am part man, part machine. Again. My wholehearted gratitude goes to the relevant NHS staff. They know who they are.
Now I am home, I can spend lots of time reading the whole series of Harry Dresden novels by Jim Butcher. They are wonderful reading. Exciting, intriguing and very funny.
And I want to think about where the Portal is going (I need to revive that). And work on changing the way that I write so that it is more structured and less off-the-cuff. Boy that is a challenge! But a nice one. Not half as painful.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)