Constellator Anna Versteeg has launched her new project: https://bbookproject.com

“a collaboration between medics, scientists, researchers, writers, artists, designers and the general public, exploring science and culture, the empirical and the human, to compile a people centered piece of work to create public awareness & debate around the breast, to question beliefs and prejudices, to share information, promote diversity (no breast is the same), encourage confidence and a positive change to the many troubling perceptions towards breasts.”

Background

Please see http://www.jocoxfoundation.org and follow https://twitter.com/JoCoxFoundation

I first saw Bladerunner in 1984, at the Albacon science fiction convention at the Central Hotel in Glasgow.

I was 13, on my first solo trip away from home (Whiting Bay, Arran, pop.700) to the “big city” (Glasgow, pop.700,000).

I was already terrified of being in a city. Sitting in a dark room with a bunch of strange (in many ways) adults in a strange (in many ways) place — a makeshift cinema in a fairly shabby conference room in the hotel — watching these incredible scenes unfold on screen …

I left thinking that cities around the world were simply *already like this* (and given the difference between Arran and Glasgow, they might as well have been). And the music, which had a deep impact in shaping the music I’d go on to write in my late teens. Research, work, and, well so many things.

Like visiting Shanghai 15 years later [March 1999], to the photo above …

[which itself was taken on a very early digital camera, photoshopped & processed on a tiny laptop into a 360 spherical image, then uploaded via a GSM phone… to the web — via London — along with some binaural sound recordings, as a kind of “blog“]

and then, onto some pretty interesting projects / work-in-progress…

During the Olympics Opening Ceremony, the creator of the web tweeted “This is for everyone” to millions of people around the world.

Decades since their invention, we are still discovering and unlocking value from the innovations catalysed by the open web, open internet, and open source. The Open Data Institute‘s mission is to demonstrate and unlock the value in Open Data.

Today, I am joining Sir Tim Berners-Lee and Professor Nigel Shadbolt at the ODI, as its CEO.

The ODI is a new institute – the first of its kind in the world dedicated to open data value. We have ambitious plans, and aim to have a substantial and positive impact for many, many people.

• Incubate and catalyse innovative new companies
• Help large and small companies develop and derive value from open data
• Provide the right environment to inspire, train, and develop world-class talent
• Enable organisations publish high-quality open data
• Help shape standards in this emerging space

We have had fantastic support across the political spectrum, from academia, from the private sector, and from individuals.

Open Data creates the potential for anyone to innovate. The web was created using, and exists because of, open source and open data. I want to explore how we can best deliver;

• data presented in a structured, “machine-readable” form so that data can be used by and between services (for example, using Apps)
• data that is addressable via the internet and can therefore be linked together

I believe that

“information causes change, otherwise it’s not information”
James Burke, dconstruct 2012

There are massive benefits of getting this right. Governments, businesses, and individuals around the world are gradually coming to understand the power of data. The World Economic Forum has now categorised Personal Data as a new “Asset Class”:

“Personal data is the new oil of the Internet
and the new currency of the digital world.”
Meglena Kuneva, European Consumer Commissioner

And this is just the beginning: there is an emerging shift in our collective understanding of the power of connected, addressable information.

The ODI will help us reveal this power, guide us towards best practices, fair usage, and empower a new generation of innovators to create value – and in this definition I include economic, environmental, and social value.

What is Data?
This may seem like an obvious question, and to help anchor our language I want to be clear what this means. We live in an age where almost everything is, or will be, digitised. We are familiar with government spending data, health statistics, company financial reports, school assessments, and our own personal records. We are less familiar with data that is collected when we (as governments, businesses, or individuals) use the web, or devices that generate new data (such as location data from your mobile phone, or using Facebook).

I see two trends here: one is a growing set of opportunities for innovation – creating new services that improve our lives, the other is a growing sense of anxiety – that we are monitored and not in control of our information. I want to address both these areas.

What is Open Data?
Firstly Open Data does not mean “all data”, or that it’s a free-for-all. For example, your personal health data is extremely private. There are benefits, for example aggregated anonymous statistical analysis can help us make better decisions. There are also risks – we know that companies, governments, and individuals are not always as well equipped to handle information as we may want.

Examples (please send me more – I am keen to learn!)
– Public data released around MRSA has contributed to reducing death rates
– Company data released around environmental data has helped to catalyse the transition to  more energy efficient operations
– And even remarkable stories involving individual data could help to find new cures…

NB: I will remain on the board of AMEE.

I consider myself to have a high tolerance (albeit a low threshold) for pain: I can usually accept it and work my way through it when it arrives. Having experienced kidney stones and dental abscesses before, I know roughly where some of my own limits are.

My experience over the last week has been a little different, with some different outcomes that I wanted (and needed) to document.

Firstly, the definition of pain is always subjective. However the small amount of research I did to try and find a common, non-jargon-based language didn’t really reveal what I was expecting: if anyone knows of a simple, official 1-10 scale with clear examples, please comment below with a link.

The most useful I found was here (from 2002) and its author also expresses frustration about the lack of a common language. It’s a good article, and I’ve copied the table here for completeness

And so, onto the story.

On Tuesday one of my teeth started to ache. I recognised it as likely to be a root canal issue as my dentist had it on their list of to-do’s. With impeccable timing – Tuesday was our last board meeting of the year, and am in the midst of negotiating our biggest ever deal – I had to just start on the Nurofen and pace out the day. That night it stepped up and after a very interrupted night I started to alternate Paracetemol and Ibuprofen to get through the next day, and arranged a dental appointment for Thurs 9am.

Weds night stepped up again, about a (6) on the above scale, so almost no sleep, but pain I can certainly “meditate through” for a few hours. On Thursday my dentist duly identified an abscess and I started 500mg Amoxicillin 3x a day. Unfortunately Thursday night went up a notch (7) and was continuous, so to try and seek some stronger pain killers, I trundled myself off to A&E at about 11pm. A&E is never a good place to go, but after 3 hours of concentrated pacing (one of my pain management techniques is to walk and count out loud, small wins of control) I was given a course of 60mg Codine (heavy duty pain killers) and 50mg Diclofenac Sodium (reduces inflammation). To help them get into my system, I walked the 30 min journey home, they kicked in, and I went to sleep. For an hour. Then I was back to a continuous (7)… fitful sleeps, and the next morning my partner picked up a course of 400mg Metronidazole from my dentist (heavy duty antibiotics). The thing is with antibiotics is that they often take 24-48 hours to kick in.

Friday saw the intensity grow from a (7) to an (8) in the evening and, with my energy levels falling, inability to eat and increased tiredness, tipped me into a “must do something” state. Consultation (via my partner) with NHS Direct (which is excellent by the way) at 8pm led to direct referral to an all night emergency dental clinic… albeit a 40 minute cab journey away. Unable to see any alternative, I bundled myself into a cab and concentrated my way to the dentist, somehow filled in a form (no idea what it said) and that’s when things got really interesting.

The dentist could clearly see I was in distress, understood why and wanted to help. So he injected an anaesthetic to numb the area, to relieve the pain, then work on the tooth.

It’s difficult to remember now what it felt like, and still sounds like a very unreasonable claim, but this is where things went to a (9). At the point of the injection I felt like I was going to pass out. However, the step change thereafter – from a (9) to a Zero (no pain) was so dramatic (I could actually feel the anaesthetic moving through my jaw) that within seconds I was in shock: shaking, weeping, numb hands and arms.

After “an amount of time” and a glucose drink, I calmed down. The relief of having no pain was ecstatic. I then smiled my way through a partial root canal treatment, drifting in and out of sleep.

After that, feeling vastly improved (still numbed), I got the tube home and started to rest.

If only.

Bang. The anaesthetic wore off. The pain was worse than before. I’d say a (9) although still feel uncomfortable about that number because I can’t compare this to throat cancer(!), but it was more than an (8).

I subsequently learned from my normal (excellent) dentist, that while the emergency guys were obviously dealing with the situation in hand, you *never* inject and/or operate on an infected tooth. Even just the additional liquid from the injection adds more pressure to the abscess, never mind the drilling/etc.

So, in my on-the-ground state, my partner called for an ambulance, checking carefully that it was both appropriate to have one and that there would be someone at the other end to deal with the issue. They said “yes, we’ll be there immediately, get out onto the street”.

Note to all: never call an ambulance for a dental problem. They have no way to deal with it and dental units at hospitals seem to close at 10pm.

After standing on a cold December street for 40 minutes the ambulance finally arrived. I don’t remember waiting, just pacing and counting. They then said that there was nothing they could do and the dental unit was shut, and I needed to go back to the all night dentist. In a cab (since it was on the other side of town).

The medics were very empathetic and did what they could: 10ml of oral morphine. But it didn’t touch the pain. And they flagged down a cab…

40 mins later I was back in the dental surgery. It’s now 1am Saturday, and a different dentist, who … anaesthetised me.

Same reaction as before. (9) + shock + calm.

Peace was now not the only outcome, but substantial delirium. The cocktail of pain, morphine, pain killers, lack of sleep/food/etc. meant my most concerted efforts to concentrate were futile. Sentences were slow/slurred, even if visualised well in my head.

“Did I want an extraction or to leave it?” was my choice.

I suppose I should feel happy that even under these conditions, a part of my sanity had already worked out that that would be terrible, not just because of the loss of a tooth (even though a part of me wanted that payback so very desperately!), but because I was working out why the last visit hadn’t worked.

“No” was my answer, so in my somewhat befuddled mess of a state, I got another cab, 40 mins, home.

Home, I slept, the second (double-dose) of anaesthetic wore off while I was asleep and I can only imagine that the antibiotics magically had kicked in to reduce the basic cause of infection.

Saturday 9am I woke up, totally exhausted, but not in excruciating pain. My normal dentist saw me at 11am and imparted the words of wisdom about having to wait it out until the antibiotics kick in, even if it seems impossible at the time. There really isn’t another option.

Home by noon, and starting to get the rebound effects of the last few days I went into extremely deep lethargy and narcolepsy. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds before plunging into fitful/lucid dreaming/ sleep.  My entire body ached. I couldn’t really move.

Given the lack of nutrition I knew I had to at least drink, however it would take me over 2 hours to actually make it across the bed to the glass in-between sleep, waking, realisation and trying to move. And, unfortunately, my body had reacted so badly that I wasn’t able to retain even water…

18 hours later I knew I was also feeling the impacts of dehydration, and again NHS Direct were great, at 5am, over the phone diagnosing and sourcing a local doctor to prescribe additional medication.The only glitch being: I had to pick it up from the local hospital. At this point I couldn’t pick my head up from the bed, so back to sleep it was.

And of course, if you can’t keep down water, you can’t keep down antibiotics. I remember thinking … “oh crap” … as I drifted back to sleep again, but was comforted by the last words my dentist had said to me on Saturday: “it will not be as painful again, you are over the worst of it”. Fortunately, she was right.

Throughout Sunday and early Monday, my condition was steady-state: utter exhaustion and all-over aching. Gradually, with some moments of quite deep shock/emotional release, it started to pass.

Monday afternoon I was, finally, able to digest water, and that started a proper, but gradual recovery.

What did I learn/what would I do differently?

I’d get onto antibiotics (all of them) sooner.

I’d not call an ambulance for any dental-related emergency, regardless of how severe.

I’d somehow insist that any emergency dentist did not inject anaesthetic. Apparently this not only increases the long-term pain, but introduces the potential to spread the infection to other areas.

I don’t know how to reconcile that level of pain with no action/waiting. I know in retrospect that it’s “one of those things”, and quizzed my normal dentist about it a lot. However, “in that moment”, I could easily imagine asking for a full extraction.

I have no idea how I’d deal with something similar again. My pain management process is always to focus on accepting the pain, taking it on board, then thinking about how I’ll reflect on it later (as this blog post is doing). There always has to be a future point to anchor to.

Reading up on pain, and seeing the definitions above, I was quite shocked to see suicide mentioned so many times. It’s not something I think could ever conceive of, but I could easily imagine that prolonged exposure to this kind of intense, crushing, omnipotent pain could entirely take over your whole perspective of life.

My admiration of those who suffer this on an ongoing basis has certainly increased.

Take care.

Blogs are very useful to gratuitously vent one’s disappointments out into the Ether…

Dear Bicycle Thieves,

As a thief you’ll never consider that you are taking peoples belongings, not just “objects” to convert into cash.

I don’t even consider myself particularly materialistic, but I did love my bike.

You’ve not made me angry – you’ve made me sad. The amount of inconvenience you’ve just caused me is huge.

The bicycle is my main mode of transport – I don’t own a car (never have).

If I could give you the cash that you’ll no doubt make from selling it, I would – it’s worth that much to me. In fact if anyone does help return it in good order, I’ll offer a £100 (no-questions asked) reward.

I love cycling. My bike was fabulous to ride. Very comfortable, light, strong. Front-suspension.

It had a beautiful form and I loved the colour. It weighed under 9kg.

I bought it last year for a substantial sum – £900. I bought my last bike in 1993 so this was a big update (I was lucky enough to have saved enough to afford it at the time).

Of course, I don’t have insurance. Why? Well – at £110/year plus the most ridiculous restrictions on what constitutes a claim makes it wholly unrealistic for anyone who actually rides a bike. At least I know I had a good lock – you had to remove the steel fixings from the brick wall that I was tied to and take the lot. Looking at the Terms of some of the insurers I don’t think this would even have been fully covered.

I have the bike shop searching for another, but they don’t make this one any more – Koga are based in Holland.

A Koga Miyata Terraliner with carbon wheels. Whoever ends up with it will be quite noticeable.

“Quick question: what is a universe?”

Lovely.