[In preparation for the arrival of the new Principal, the Vice Principal has been on a brief fact finding visit to Ninewells, to experience at first hand the reality of life in a hospital ward. We can only applaud his extraordinary dedication]
V(I)P in Agony I had been waiting a year for the operation.
I choose my words carefully - not 'I had been on the waiting list for a year', since I discovered that to be on an official waiting list you first have to have had a consultation with the surgeon. That took place on the morning of Christmas Eve - just about nine months after I had seen my own GP. So I was on your actual waiting list for only three months! The wonders of modern Health Service management. (Ingenious, Sir Alan)
I turned up at Ninewells at 7.30 am - half an hour early, but I knew how efficient hospitals are, not to mention senior Staff Nurses, and I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot by being late. I needn't have worried. Everyone in the ward was still fast asleep. Whatever happened to the 5.30 compulsory wake up call? When the Staff Nurse did appear, this was no battle-axe but a pleasant middle aged fair haired lady of slightly vague mien who wrote my name (correctly spelled) on the little white board over the bedhead, and took down some personal details. The only other occupant of the six bed bay was another newcomer, who, it turned out, had a sister on the staff, and a cyst, er, on his bottom.
Gradually the bay filled with patients - mostly in for short stays, like myself, but mostly to have much nastier things done to them. In a remarkably short time it was my turn. Wheeled off on a theatre bed to the place where they put you to sleep I had needles stuck into me (not, to my surprise, a face mask) and sensors stuck on to me, before being given whatever it is they inject to make you drop off. That was it - the next thing was waking up, hearing someone say my name, and again. Then a sort of bleeping noise over my head, and a cross voice asking sharply 'Are you breathing?' Apparently the bleeping meant I had stopped. Always the obedient one, I breathed really deeply just to show her, and the nurse and the bleeping went away.
Not much after that. The next day Ann was coming to pick me up after her morning class, and I had to let someone else have my bed. I sat in the waiting room and read a book of short stories. A door opposite my chair led to the smoking room - the only place smoking is allowed in the ward. Was it just my imagination, or did all the smokers, grey faced and paper skinned, really look much iller than the rest of us?
Home again to a week of discomfort, I can't really call it pain, and extreme fatigue. For the first few days by the afternoon I could hardly keep my eyes open. A few get well cards from my family and the girls in the office, and a Gary Larsen from Fiona Douglas. You know the one - four surgeons in gowns and masks are bending over the operand (from the Latin operandum (ger.) - meat to be operated on) while a gruesome piece of his insides goes flying through the air with a 'boing' sound. 'Keep an eye on where that went, fellas,' says the senior surgeon, 'we may need it later on.' Inside Fiona had written, 'Don't laugh too much and undo all the good work.'
TOO LATE, FIONA!
I had been waiting a year for the operation.... First year celebrations In just its first year the DCA received three and a half times the initial projected attendance figures with the number of visitors approaching 350,000. With its galleries, cinema, print studio, cafe-bar and shop, visitors can not cease to be captivated by some aspect of the arts centre. At its heart is the University's Visual Research Centre (VRC) and Centrespace. The VRC, an "art laboratory," equipped with £600,000 worth of technology, enables cutting edge research in fine art, design and television and imaging to evolve in front of visitors' very own eyes. At the core of this is "Centrespace" where the public can observe the creative process in action and talk to the artists about their work. The latest exhibition to feature was that of design's course director, Tim Proud and photography lecturer Jonathan Robertson with Charcoal-Lattice. First exhibited in Singapore, the display's research-process can be fully appreciated through the opportunity of speaking with one of the artists. Tim Proud commented "This has all been extremely interesting, Jonathan and I didn't know each other particularly well before we set out on this project but over the months of bringing our work together it's amazing how many correlations can be drawn between my 3D work and Jonathan's 2D photography. The research process is still evolving even now - even through the installation of the work you keep seeing new ideas and concepts." Since its opening Centrespace has had over 15 different installations covering a vast array of subject matter. An average of 100 people visit the VRC each day, increasing to over 200 on special event days or evenings.
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