review first published at awritergoesonajourney
The Blurb
Unaware of the wider Heresy and following the Warmaster’s increasingly cryptic orders, Roboute Guilliman returns to Ultramar to muster his Legion for war against the orks massing in the Veridian system. Without warning, their supposed allies in the Word Bearers Legion launch a devastating invasion of Calth, scattering the Ultramarines fleet and slaughtering all who stand in their way. This confirms the worst scenario Guilliman can imagine – Lorgar means to settle their bitter rivalry once and for all. As the traitors summon foul daemonic hosts and all the forces of Chaos, the Ultramarines are drawn into a grim and deadly struggle in which neither side can prevail.
The Review
The cover includes a quote from The Guardian, although it is almost lost in the cover artwork: ‘Dan Abnett is probably the best writer of dark military SF in the world.’ I have to agree. Abnett has become one of my ‘must read’ authors.
The Horus Heresy has been a real success for The Black Library. While this is the nineteenth in the series, that is not counting audio titles. Dan Abnett is definitely one reason for its success with four novels and an audio drama co-authored with another of The Black Library’s better authors, Graham McNeill.
What I particularly like about Dan Abnett his ability to tell a dark story but without becoming overly oppressive as can happen with other authors in this style. But his story telling is definitely still dark in nature. I felt desperation growing as I read this latest offering.
This novel returns once more to the early days of the Horus Heresy when word of the Warmaster’s turn was yet to spread very far. We see the treacherous Word Bearers at their demonic worst as they turn against an unsuspecting Ultramarines Legion.
I also liked the way this was structured, each sequence with its time mark, clearly placing it within the storyline. With so much happening, it could have been easy to get lost without those references.
Know No Fear is typical Abnett stuff – fast paced, impressive action sequences and a storyline that pulls you in.
At novel’s end I was left wondering a bit about one character, Oll Persson. I am a bit puzzled about just what he actually was and where it was that he was leading a small group of survivors to. Or is this just a leader to draw the reader in for the next novel? Or maybe I am just reading too much into things?
Definitely a must read for Horus Heresy fans.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Real life is better than fiction
There is an old adage that a paint cannot actually paint what a brilliant sunset really looks like because the glorious colours look just too brilliant that they would be accused of hamming it up. Similarly the 'real life' depictions of people can only go so far in creating farcical situations before being accused of just being unrealistic. So to prove that real life is truly better than fiction, an author who shall remain nameless (in this blog for now at any rate) reports that earlier today she became "...trapped in the David Jones escalator wearing a maxi skirt that was angrily being devoured into the bowels of the moving stairs. Shrieks, escalator off, security, management, grumpy customers, screwdrivers and a very large pair of scissors followed."
Images of the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges immediately started banging on the frontal lobes in my nasty little mind.
Now I'm not really breaking any confidences as this was posted on Facebook. But I'm not that unkind as to post her name here. Yet.
Images of the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges immediately started banging on the frontal lobes in my nasty little mind.
Now I'm not really breaking any confidences as this was posted on Facebook. But I'm not that unkind as to post her name here. Yet.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Little things becoming special
I use this blog to usually blog about more serious things. But sometimes you just have one of those days you just want to share.
I arrived back home yesterday and the plane was some 15 minutes early due to the howling tail wind. That was nice.
Today I received an unexpected and quite nice message from a celebrity I respect, checking up to see how my recovering from surgery is going. That was really nice to receive.
I had a pile of mail waiting for me and I went through that today and discovered a postcard from someone else I quite respect who is currentlyin Europe. It was a fascinating postcard with a historical explanation of what the image was about. I really liked receiving that.
Since quitting the smokes back before Christmas, I had been waiting for the return of my sense of smell that I am told happens. And it arrived sort of as I was walking by a coffee shop this afternoon, suddenly smelling the goodies far better than I am used to. And that is with a slight cold or late hayfever interfering with things.
These are small things in themselves but just seemed special to me in odd little ways.
Maybe it's a case of small things and small minds. :-)
I arrived back home yesterday and the plane was some 15 minutes early due to the howling tail wind. That was nice.
Today I received an unexpected and quite nice message from a celebrity I respect, checking up to see how my recovering from surgery is going. That was really nice to receive.
I had a pile of mail waiting for me and I went through that today and discovered a postcard from someone else I quite respect who is currentlyin Europe. It was a fascinating postcard with a historical explanation of what the image was about. I really liked receiving that.
Since quitting the smokes back before Christmas, I had been waiting for the return of my sense of smell that I am told happens. And it arrived sort of as I was walking by a coffee shop this afternoon, suddenly smelling the goodies far better than I am used to. And that is with a slight cold or late hayfever interfering with things.
These are small things in themselves but just seemed special to me in odd little ways.
Maybe it's a case of small things and small minds. :-)
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
BOOK REVIEW: The Spider Goddess by Tara Moss
First posted at awritergoesonajourney and Boomerang Books.
The Spider Goddess by Tara Moss
a Pandora English novel
Pan Macmillan
ISBN:978-1-7426-1003-0
There’s a new designer in town- and she has Pandora in her sights. Who knew the fashion industry could be so venomous.
It’s now been two months since Pandora first moved to the mysterious Spektor to live with her equally mysterious Great-Aunt Celia. And it’s certainly been anything but boring. She’s encountered counting-obsessed vamps, ghosts, zombies and a myriad of characters she never thought possible.
Now there’s a new threat to New York, and Pandora seems to be a beacon for the strange and unexplained.
I had mixed feelings about the first in the Pandora English series but my final feeling was that I was looking forward to seeing the next in the series. Unfortunately the old brain box was working rather sluggishly for a while there after the brain surgery and only now am I getting to writing up my review of this second Pandora English novel. Sorry about that.
I suspect one of the reasons, probably the major reason, why I had those mixed feelings about The Blood Countess was that I was not expecting this from Tara Moss, being used to and a fan of her crime novels.
With The Spider Goddess, I was much happier. I felt some of the problems I had with its predecessor had been addressed (not that I am arrogant enough to suggest I am the reason why they were addressed!) and along the way, these added to the greater development of the larger plotline. For example, cartoonist Charles Addams gets a mention in such a way that I half-expect him to play some sort of role in a future novel.
There is definitely a creepy feel to the story but not to the point that I would be uncomfortable with younger readers getting their hands on the story. I have given a copy to a young friend, fully expecting this young adult to also enjoy it.
I felt Pandora was a stronger character this time, adding to the story. I also liked Moss’s exploration and use of various mythologies. But it is a paranormal story, after all. I even found myself feeling a little sorry for Pandora and her feelings for the deceased Lieutenant Luke – bit hard to see a relationship developing with a ghost who only seems to be able to appear in certain places.
I enjoyed this novel and read it quite quickly.
The Spider Goddess by Tara Moss
a Pandora English novel
Pan Macmillan
ISBN:978-1-7426-1003-0
There’s a new designer in town- and she has Pandora in her sights. Who knew the fashion industry could be so venomous.
It’s now been two months since Pandora first moved to the mysterious Spektor to live with her equally mysterious Great-Aunt Celia. And it’s certainly been anything but boring. She’s encountered counting-obsessed vamps, ghosts, zombies and a myriad of characters she never thought possible.
Now there’s a new threat to New York, and Pandora seems to be a beacon for the strange and unexplained.
I had mixed feelings about the first in the Pandora English series but my final feeling was that I was looking forward to seeing the next in the series. Unfortunately the old brain box was working rather sluggishly for a while there after the brain surgery and only now am I getting to writing up my review of this second Pandora English novel. Sorry about that.
I suspect one of the reasons, probably the major reason, why I had those mixed feelings about The Blood Countess was that I was not expecting this from Tara Moss, being used to and a fan of her crime novels.
With The Spider Goddess, I was much happier. I felt some of the problems I had with its predecessor had been addressed (not that I am arrogant enough to suggest I am the reason why they were addressed!) and along the way, these added to the greater development of the larger plotline. For example, cartoonist Charles Addams gets a mention in such a way that I half-expect him to play some sort of role in a future novel.
There is definitely a creepy feel to the story but not to the point that I would be uncomfortable with younger readers getting their hands on the story. I have given a copy to a young friend, fully expecting this young adult to also enjoy it.
I felt Pandora was a stronger character this time, adding to the story. I also liked Moss’s exploration and use of various mythologies. But it is a paranormal story, after all. I even found myself feeling a little sorry for Pandora and her feelings for the deceased Lieutenant Luke – bit hard to see a relationship developing with a ghost who only seems to be able to appear in certain places.
I enjoyed this novel and read it quite quickly.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Action, humour and humanity: Born Fearless by Big Phil Campion
first published at Boomerang Books
Review - Born Fearless by Big Phil Campion
Anyone who follows international affairs to even a basic degree would be aware of the existence of private military operations in places like Afghanistan. But we don't hear a lot about how these operators actually work. Born Fearless is a fascinating account of life on that private circuit by one of those right on the circuit's razor edge.
Phil Campion had a brutal upbringing. I think it is fair to think Campion could have easily gone down a much darker path but as a youngster he ended up in the army. Clearly one to get easily bored by the regular, the mundane, Campion found his place in the elite forces, culminating in the SAS. This proved a good background to enter the private military circuit.
This account provides a good account of life on that circuit as well as what lead up to it. That bit I enjoyed. What I didn't enjoy as much was Campion's regular reminding the reader of his 'years in the military.' Phil - I know you were in the army and respect you for it. But I didn't need reminding of it so frequently.
At times I also found myself wondering about Campion's sanity. He was operating in a hair-raising, dangerous environment. And he loved it but without becoming an utter psycho, for which I respect him even more.
This is a fascinating account of an aspect of life that very few of us will ever see (or probably want to!), with action, humour and humanity. It should have quite wide appeal.
Review - Born Fearless by Big Phil Campion
Anyone who follows international affairs to even a basic degree would be aware of the existence of private military operations in places like Afghanistan. But we don't hear a lot about how these operators actually work. Born Fearless is a fascinating account of life on that private circuit by one of those right on the circuit's razor edge.
Phil Campion had a brutal upbringing. I think it is fair to think Campion could have easily gone down a much darker path but as a youngster he ended up in the army. Clearly one to get easily bored by the regular, the mundane, Campion found his place in the elite forces, culminating in the SAS. This proved a good background to enter the private military circuit.
This account provides a good account of life on that circuit as well as what lead up to it. That bit I enjoyed. What I didn't enjoy as much was Campion's regular reminding the reader of his 'years in the military.' Phil - I know you were in the army and respect you for it. But I didn't need reminding of it so frequently.
At times I also found myself wondering about Campion's sanity. He was operating in a hair-raising, dangerous environment. And he loved it but without becoming an utter psycho, for which I respect him even more.
This is a fascinating account of an aspect of life that very few of us will ever see (or probably want to!), with action, humour and humanity. It should have quite wide appeal.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
OK, here's what's ACTUALLY happening (or not) with the surgery
It has been a while since I had a rant and I think this is a good one.
Back in May, an alert and conscientious radiographer (or whatever they're called - the ones that do the X-rays) pointed out to a doctor in the Emergency Department at Calvary Hospital here in Canberra, that there was a suspicious shadow on one side of a just-completed brain scan of my noggin. A second scan confirmed the presence of an aneurism. Calvary not being equipped for that sort of neurosurgery, I was referred to the Canberra Hospital.
Jump forward a few months. By then I had seen the neurosurgeon twice, been referred to Royal Prince Alfred in Sydney in expectation that the aneurism could be treated by far-less invasive procedure called 'coiling' only to have RPA advise that my particular little beastie was too broad and therefore unsuited to the procedure. So I was down for the full brain surgery. Come September I was finally booked in for surgery on 20 October and to attend a pre-surgery clinic in late September.
One of the joys of my life (not) is to have a thing called Crohn's Disease. For the last five years I have been treated by an immune-suppression drug each eight weeks by IV at the Canberra Hospital. This particular drug regime has been fantastic in keeping my Crohn's under control, especially compared to the previous few years which contributed to my finally being kicked out of the public service onto invalidity. That's actually over five years, people, so we could be excused for thinking that this would probably appear somewhere reasonably prominiently in my hospital records.
I saw the surgeon twice and there is no way at all that I would have failed to tell him what medications I am on, including that eight-weekly administering of the immune-suppresant. I also saw his registrar at the clinic in September and I not only told him about that drug, I even told when my next scheduled appointment was for. No concerns whatsoever.
Come my next drug infusion on 15 October, five days before the surgery, I informed the doctor examining me prior to authorising the treatment, that I was scheduled to go under the knife on the 20th. His precise response was "that's not a problem."
On 17 October, I called the Gastroenterology unit to enquire about the possibility of having my next infusion done in Victoria as I was intending travelling down there to recuperate with family after my brain surgery. They went into full panic mode. "You can't have surgery so soon after that drug infusion!" An urgent consultation with my gastroenterologist was to occur and a return phone call promised that day. By late afternoon, not having heard anything, I made contact with the gastro myself. He confirmed that the surgery had been cancelled and advised that due to the presence of the immune-suppressant in my system, any post-surgical infection could well have killed me and that I should have never been given it. At this point I was told the surgeon had no record of my being on that particular drug. Huh? Don't any of them listen to what their patients say in answer to their questions? Or read their own hospital records?
The next day, the hospital's Surgical Bookings called to ensure I was aware that my admission for the next day (surgery the day after) had been cancelled and made a new booking for admission on November 16 and surgery on November 17. This was a direct hospital response to the surgeon cancelling the October surgery.
On November 14, someone called me at home, identifying themself as one of the surgeon's team and wanting to confirm what medications I was on. They confirmed that surgery was this week.
November 15, I received a call from the Gasterenterology Unit, advising that in accordance with my gastro's instructions, my next drug infusion had been delayed to December 21, four weeks after the scheduled surgery.
Come November 16 ie yesterday, I duly turned up at the hospital - five minutes early even. The Admissions area was expecting me, worked through all the paperwork and sent me up to the relevant ward. But the ward staff said they had no knowledge of me coming at all. But not to worry, they had a bed spare.
The surgeon's registrar came and saw me two times, the second being to discuss the procedure in detail. Now I am told that rather than going through a smaller hole through my forehead as previously described in detail by the surgeon, the procedure is now to pretty much remove the left-hand side of my skull, exposing the entire top of the brain. Yikes. "Are you sure about that?" I asked, indicating what the surgeon had described. "No, it is definitely being done this way," was the answer. I was then advised that I was first on the operating list for the following morning ie today. Pretty reasonable assumption that it was all going ahead, one would have thought.
The registrar then made a surprise third visit. He had just spoken to the surgeon who had stated he was not expecting me until next week and he refused to operate until next week. Bare in mind that I had already been admitted and was by then laying on the bed munching the solitary sandwhich which was all they could scrounge up for my lunch. And this was afterall the surgical appointment made by the hospital, presumably in line with the surgeon's instructions.
With this being the second cancellation, I was not best pleased. To put it mildly. To be perfectly honest, I was now so pissed off that I quite honestly wanted to punch someone in the face. And I am not a violent person. Noisy, yes, but not physically violent.
Cutting the story a little shorter (believe it or not), by later that afternoon I was talking to the registrar once more, now by telephone. Now the story changed. It was confirmed that I had been scheduled for surgery today but after my admission yesterday, the surgeon simply changed his mind. After my admission.
I am a full-time university research candidate. In second semster I had paid tutoring work lined up but once it became apparent that I was to have surgery during the semester and go MIA for some time, that opportunity was lost. While I needed that money, I thought it was a fair trade off so that I would have the surgery behind me and be back on feet enough to be able to attend family functions later in the year.
Once the October date for surgery was confirmed, I immediately applied for a formal Interupption to Study with the university. What I was not made aware of until later was this meant that I was deemed not to have been there all semester, thus losing credit for any and all milestones achieved during the semester. So the best part of a semester's work has been largely wasted.
With these delays that are all 100% the cause of the Canberra Hospital, I lost my paying job for no good reason as I could now have done that tutoring job. With surgery scheduled for today, I had to now stay in Canberra until after December 21 when I could get my next drug infusion as it was 'impossible' to transfer the treatment to Victoria. I sure as shit cannot afford to head down south as planned and also have a return air flight to get the drug infusion. Only now the surgery has been postponed again to next week, pushing that infusion date back to December 28. So now not only do I lose that care and support from family post-surgery, not to mention missing the eighteenth birthday of my niece and god-daughter, I am not even allowed to have Christmas with my aging mother and the rest of the family. Unless of course I delay the drug infusion even later, but by past experience, by that time I would be just about reduced to crawling onto the return plane - that's how sick I can get, quite quickly.
Let us not forget that despite the involvement of the surgeon, his registrar and another doctor employed by the Canberra Hospital, it was only the intervention of a non-medical person that saw me avoid being operated on in such a potentially deadly situation.
Now when discussing things with the registrar by telephone yesterday, he told me that they cannot be held responsible for changing circumstances. Excuse me? What changing circumstances? Has the surgeon or the registrar seen me since the surgical appointment was made? No. Has there been any form of medical examination post-15 October? No. Has there been so much as a blood test to indicate that there was too great a presence of the drug still. No.
What an absolute load of bullshit.
I suffer from depression and related mental health issues. This building myself up for surgery and making many arrangements and other accomodations, only to have it twice ripped out from under me by hospital screw-ups, is having a pretty detrimental impact on that mental health. Trust me on that one!
I hit the roof with a very senior hospital adminstrator late yesterday. She first tried to tell me that I would have only been bumped from the surgery list in order to accomodate a more urgent, life-threatening case. Now if that were the position, I would most certainly have not been complaining. I'm probably not going to drop dead tomorrow from this beastie in my head and if someone else's life was going to be saved by pushing me back, then fine. Except that wasn't it at all! I already had it from the surgeon's registrar that he had simply changed his mind. And the registrar admitted that he couldn't guarantee that the surgeon wouldn't change his mind again next week as well.
This senior person assured me I would have a return telephone call from her by about 1pm today with a full explanation as to what the hell is going on. It is 6:38pm as I type and nope, no call. Nor an email. Nothing.
It should also be noted that I previously instructed the hospital that after another issue regarding this particular surgeon, I did not want anything to do with him in future, thanks very much. Guess who they kept putting on the case. Clearly my wishes amount to jack shit.
Now if this lot cannot read their own hospital records to know what drugs I am taking, are incapable of taking note of what I have told them in three seperate appointments about what drugs I am taking and yet another doctor authorise the continuing use of that drug despite being told of surgery occuring in five days time with only the intervention of a non-medical person saving me from potentially being killed by their negligence, not to mention this fart-arsing about with surgical appointments and changing of minds after my admission, is it any wonder that I am having major doubts about their ability to actually remove the side of my skull and go digging around in the old grey matter without totally fucking me up?
Oh - and has the hospital ever apologised for any of this? Well the gastroenterologist did in that phone call back in Octobedr, but it wasn't his fault or that of his staff. In fact it was an alert member of his staff who possibly saved my life. But the hospital in general? Nada. The surgeon? Don't be silly - he won't even speak to me but just send other people to fuck me around so why should I expect him to say sorry? Never mind that his negligence just probably would have killed me.
I am taking legal advice to hopefully sue their collective arses off. And seeing my GP asap to try and arrange someone else.
Congratulations, ACT Health, for yet another stirling effort! It really takes skill to so consistently and utterly FUCK IT ALL UP.
URGENT UPDATE - with apologies to Kellie Lang of Canberra Hospital. She has rung me at 7:04pm, working quite late, to give me an update. No, things are far from sorted out yet, but she is taking this very seriously. Unfortunately I am too pissed off still to be bothered with editing hence this postscript.
Back in May, an alert and conscientious radiographer (or whatever they're called - the ones that do the X-rays) pointed out to a doctor in the Emergency Department at Calvary Hospital here in Canberra, that there was a suspicious shadow on one side of a just-completed brain scan of my noggin. A second scan confirmed the presence of an aneurism. Calvary not being equipped for that sort of neurosurgery, I was referred to the Canberra Hospital.
Jump forward a few months. By then I had seen the neurosurgeon twice, been referred to Royal Prince Alfred in Sydney in expectation that the aneurism could be treated by far-less invasive procedure called 'coiling' only to have RPA advise that my particular little beastie was too broad and therefore unsuited to the procedure. So I was down for the full brain surgery. Come September I was finally booked in for surgery on 20 October and to attend a pre-surgery clinic in late September.
One of the joys of my life (not) is to have a thing called Crohn's Disease. For the last five years I have been treated by an immune-suppression drug each eight weeks by IV at the Canberra Hospital. This particular drug regime has been fantastic in keeping my Crohn's under control, especially compared to the previous few years which contributed to my finally being kicked out of the public service onto invalidity. That's actually over five years, people, so we could be excused for thinking that this would probably appear somewhere reasonably prominiently in my hospital records.
I saw the surgeon twice and there is no way at all that I would have failed to tell him what medications I am on, including that eight-weekly administering of the immune-suppresant. I also saw his registrar at the clinic in September and I not only told him about that drug, I even told when my next scheduled appointment was for. No concerns whatsoever.
Come my next drug infusion on 15 October, five days before the surgery, I informed the doctor examining me prior to authorising the treatment, that I was scheduled to go under the knife on the 20th. His precise response was "that's not a problem."
On 17 October, I called the Gastroenterology unit to enquire about the possibility of having my next infusion done in Victoria as I was intending travelling down there to recuperate with family after my brain surgery. They went into full panic mode. "You can't have surgery so soon after that drug infusion!" An urgent consultation with my gastroenterologist was to occur and a return phone call promised that day. By late afternoon, not having heard anything, I made contact with the gastro myself. He confirmed that the surgery had been cancelled and advised that due to the presence of the immune-suppressant in my system, any post-surgical infection could well have killed me and that I should have never been given it. At this point I was told the surgeon had no record of my being on that particular drug. Huh? Don't any of them listen to what their patients say in answer to their questions? Or read their own hospital records?
The next day, the hospital's Surgical Bookings called to ensure I was aware that my admission for the next day (surgery the day after) had been cancelled and made a new booking for admission on November 16 and surgery on November 17. This was a direct hospital response to the surgeon cancelling the October surgery.
On November 14, someone called me at home, identifying themself as one of the surgeon's team and wanting to confirm what medications I was on. They confirmed that surgery was this week.
November 15, I received a call from the Gasterenterology Unit, advising that in accordance with my gastro's instructions, my next drug infusion had been delayed to December 21, four weeks after the scheduled surgery.
Come November 16 ie yesterday, I duly turned up at the hospital - five minutes early even. The Admissions area was expecting me, worked through all the paperwork and sent me up to the relevant ward. But the ward staff said they had no knowledge of me coming at all. But not to worry, they had a bed spare.
The surgeon's registrar came and saw me two times, the second being to discuss the procedure in detail. Now I am told that rather than going through a smaller hole through my forehead as previously described in detail by the surgeon, the procedure is now to pretty much remove the left-hand side of my skull, exposing the entire top of the brain. Yikes. "Are you sure about that?" I asked, indicating what the surgeon had described. "No, it is definitely being done this way," was the answer. I was then advised that I was first on the operating list for the following morning ie today. Pretty reasonable assumption that it was all going ahead, one would have thought.
The registrar then made a surprise third visit. He had just spoken to the surgeon who had stated he was not expecting me until next week and he refused to operate until next week. Bare in mind that I had already been admitted and was by then laying on the bed munching the solitary sandwhich which was all they could scrounge up for my lunch. And this was afterall the surgical appointment made by the hospital, presumably in line with the surgeon's instructions.
With this being the second cancellation, I was not best pleased. To put it mildly. To be perfectly honest, I was now so pissed off that I quite honestly wanted to punch someone in the face. And I am not a violent person. Noisy, yes, but not physically violent.
Cutting the story a little shorter (believe it or not), by later that afternoon I was talking to the registrar once more, now by telephone. Now the story changed. It was confirmed that I had been scheduled for surgery today but after my admission yesterday, the surgeon simply changed his mind. After my admission.
I am a full-time university research candidate. In second semster I had paid tutoring work lined up but once it became apparent that I was to have surgery during the semester and go MIA for some time, that opportunity was lost. While I needed that money, I thought it was a fair trade off so that I would have the surgery behind me and be back on feet enough to be able to attend family functions later in the year.
Once the October date for surgery was confirmed, I immediately applied for a formal Interupption to Study with the university. What I was not made aware of until later was this meant that I was deemed not to have been there all semester, thus losing credit for any and all milestones achieved during the semester. So the best part of a semester's work has been largely wasted.
With these delays that are all 100% the cause of the Canberra Hospital, I lost my paying job for no good reason as I could now have done that tutoring job. With surgery scheduled for today, I had to now stay in Canberra until after December 21 when I could get my next drug infusion as it was 'impossible' to transfer the treatment to Victoria. I sure as shit cannot afford to head down south as planned and also have a return air flight to get the drug infusion. Only now the surgery has been postponed again to next week, pushing that infusion date back to December 28. So now not only do I lose that care and support from family post-surgery, not to mention missing the eighteenth birthday of my niece and god-daughter, I am not even allowed to have Christmas with my aging mother and the rest of the family. Unless of course I delay the drug infusion even later, but by past experience, by that time I would be just about reduced to crawling onto the return plane - that's how sick I can get, quite quickly.
Let us not forget that despite the involvement of the surgeon, his registrar and another doctor employed by the Canberra Hospital, it was only the intervention of a non-medical person that saw me avoid being operated on in such a potentially deadly situation.
Now when discussing things with the registrar by telephone yesterday, he told me that they cannot be held responsible for changing circumstances. Excuse me? What changing circumstances? Has the surgeon or the registrar seen me since the surgical appointment was made? No. Has there been any form of medical examination post-15 October? No. Has there been so much as a blood test to indicate that there was too great a presence of the drug still. No.
What an absolute load of bullshit.
I suffer from depression and related mental health issues. This building myself up for surgery and making many arrangements and other accomodations, only to have it twice ripped out from under me by hospital screw-ups, is having a pretty detrimental impact on that mental health. Trust me on that one!
I hit the roof with a very senior hospital adminstrator late yesterday. She first tried to tell me that I would have only been bumped from the surgery list in order to accomodate a more urgent, life-threatening case. Now if that were the position, I would most certainly have not been complaining. I'm probably not going to drop dead tomorrow from this beastie in my head and if someone else's life was going to be saved by pushing me back, then fine. Except that wasn't it at all! I already had it from the surgeon's registrar that he had simply changed his mind. And the registrar admitted that he couldn't guarantee that the surgeon wouldn't change his mind again next week as well.
This senior person assured me I would have a return telephone call from her by about 1pm today with a full explanation as to what the hell is going on. It is 6:38pm as I type and nope, no call. Nor an email. Nothing.
It should also be noted that I previously instructed the hospital that after another issue regarding this particular surgeon, I did not want anything to do with him in future, thanks very much. Guess who they kept putting on the case. Clearly my wishes amount to jack shit.
Now if this lot cannot read their own hospital records to know what drugs I am taking, are incapable of taking note of what I have told them in three seperate appointments about what drugs I am taking and yet another doctor authorise the continuing use of that drug despite being told of surgery occuring in five days time with only the intervention of a non-medical person saving me from potentially being killed by their negligence, not to mention this fart-arsing about with surgical appointments and changing of minds after my admission, is it any wonder that I am having major doubts about their ability to actually remove the side of my skull and go digging around in the old grey matter without totally fucking me up?
Oh - and has the hospital ever apologised for any of this? Well the gastroenterologist did in that phone call back in Octobedr, but it wasn't his fault or that of his staff. In fact it was an alert member of his staff who possibly saved my life. But the hospital in general? Nada. The surgeon? Don't be silly - he won't even speak to me but just send other people to fuck me around so why should I expect him to say sorry? Never mind that his negligence just probably would have killed me.
I am taking legal advice to hopefully sue their collective arses off. And seeing my GP asap to try and arrange someone else.
Congratulations, ACT Health, for yet another stirling effort! It really takes skill to so consistently and utterly FUCK IT ALL UP.
URGENT UPDATE - with apologies to Kellie Lang of Canberra Hospital. She has rung me at 7:04pm, working quite late, to give me an update. No, things are far from sorted out yet, but she is taking this very seriously. Unfortunately I am too pissed off still to be bothered with editing hence this postscript.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Big win for Aussie small press!
first posted at awritergoesonajourney.com
There are still some schools of thought out there that think writing is really pretty easy. You just write a novel (easy-peasy) and major publishers are all sitting around, nervously biting their nicotine-stained fingernails as they wait for your manuscript to appear on their desk, at which time they will hand over a check with a suitably large number of zeros on it somewhere. Preceded by some number bigger than zero. Piece of cake. At that point, you can comfortably resign your ‘real’ job for the luxurious life of an author.
Sad to say, I did actually have a supervisor, when I still had a ‘real’ job, who honestly thought pretty much along those lines. She was quite certain that it was just a matter of course that I would finish a novel and be able to promptly resign my job (to her relief) on the large advance I would be given.
The reality of course is that it ain’t anywhere near that easy. Apart from the fact that writing a novel is damned hard work, getting published is a damned sight harder.
The often overlooked part is that of learning to be a publishable writer. Very few of us are able to just sit down and write that novel that publishers are all busting to sign up. We have to learn our craft, just as any apprentice does. For many of us, that learning experience and apprenticeship comes from the short story or novella. We have to learn how to craft a story, learn how to tell it in a compelling way that will draw the reader in. And we need to get experience in getting published, in pitching our work to publishers/editors, in editing and working with said publishers.
This is where small press comes into its own. The world of speculative fiction has a long history and tradition of small press producing anthologies of short stories in particular, which for many aspiring authors is the first entry into that magical world of actually seeing your story in print. Australia has its own strong tradition of small press.
In recent years the number of small press offering opportunities to Australian authors seems to have dipped a bit. For example, Cat Sparks decided to call it a day with her highly regarded Agog! Press in order to concentrate on her own work. Eneit Presswere sadly forced to call it a day for reasons we shan’t go into here as I have blogged furiously about this previously.
So it was great news to see Alisa Krasnosten win the World Fantasy Special Award – Non-professional at the World Fantasy Convention for her continuing work at Twelth Planet Press. This doesn't just proves the good work Alisa and co are doing there at Twelth Planet, but reminds us that the independent, small press are a vital and integral part of the Australian publishing scene.
Congratulations Alisa and keep fighting the good fight!
Ross the Repellent
(Overlord-in-training)
There are still some schools of thought out there that think writing is really pretty easy. You just write a novel (easy-peasy) and major publishers are all sitting around, nervously biting their nicotine-stained fingernails as they wait for your manuscript to appear on their desk, at which time they will hand over a check with a suitably large number of zeros on it somewhere. Preceded by some number bigger than zero. Piece of cake. At that point, you can comfortably resign your ‘real’ job for the luxurious life of an author.
Sad to say, I did actually have a supervisor, when I still had a ‘real’ job, who honestly thought pretty much along those lines. She was quite certain that it was just a matter of course that I would finish a novel and be able to promptly resign my job (to her relief) on the large advance I would be given.
The reality of course is that it ain’t anywhere near that easy. Apart from the fact that writing a novel is damned hard work, getting published is a damned sight harder.
The often overlooked part is that of learning to be a publishable writer. Very few of us are able to just sit down and write that novel that publishers are all busting to sign up. We have to learn our craft, just as any apprentice does. For many of us, that learning experience and apprenticeship comes from the short story or novella. We have to learn how to craft a story, learn how to tell it in a compelling way that will draw the reader in. And we need to get experience in getting published, in pitching our work to publishers/editors, in editing and working with said publishers.
This is where small press comes into its own. The world of speculative fiction has a long history and tradition of small press producing anthologies of short stories in particular, which for many aspiring authors is the first entry into that magical world of actually seeing your story in print. Australia has its own strong tradition of small press.
In recent years the number of small press offering opportunities to Australian authors seems to have dipped a bit. For example, Cat Sparks decided to call it a day with her highly regarded Agog! Press in order to concentrate on her own work. Eneit Presswere sadly forced to call it a day for reasons we shan’t go into here as I have blogged furiously about this previously.
So it was great news to see Alisa Krasnosten win the World Fantasy Special Award – Non-professional at the World Fantasy Convention for her continuing work at Twelth Planet Press. This doesn't just proves the good work Alisa and co are doing there at Twelth Planet, but reminds us that the independent, small press are a vital and integral part of the Australian publishing scene.
Congratulations Alisa and keep fighting the good fight!
Ross the Repellent
(Overlord-in-training)
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