Today I want to discuss a glitchy problem that drove me nuts before I found a way to do this. Google searches did not turn up a good answer, so for those who, like me, have been frustrated, this one's for you :-)
The instructions here are for Word 2010.
THE SET-UP: I want to print a Word document into a PDF with two pages on each page that will look like a book.
THE PROBLEM: The PDF keeps coming out with the ODD page on the LEFT and the EVEN page on the RIGHT.
THE SOLUTION:
Step 1: Put in a blank page in front of your first page. Use the Page Break Feature rather than a bunch of returns. Go to the INSERT Menu --> PAGES Section --> Page Break
Step 2: Go to PAGE LAYOUT Menu --> PAGE SETUP Section. Click the little arrow on the right bottom of that box.
Step 3: A PAGE SETUP Box will open. Click on the LAYOUT tab. Under "Section Start" scroll down to "Even Page."
Step 4: To set up your Print Settings, go to FILE --> Print. Under Printer select your PDF converter (Adobe Acrobat is preferred, or you can get a free one at
PrimoPDF.com). Scroll down to select "2 Pages Per Sheet." Hit the Print button --> you will be asked to name your file so give it something.
And that's it! When you print your Word Document to a PDF with two pages on each page, it should work.
*
Here's chapter 45 from my book A LEVER LONG ENOUGH to show you what I mean with the print-out. It may be tough to see, but the pages are correctly aligned: chapter 45 starts on page 193, which is on the right.
I've pasted the text to this chapter below the screen shots -- this was a fun one to write! And understandable even if you haven't read the rest of the book.
NOTE: Overwhelming tasks with managing
Taegais
have left me too busy to blog. I plan to start again soon along with my
new book release (Middle Writer) and will let you know -- although I'm
not sure that anyone is coming to visit me anyway! LOL. If my advice is
helpful leave comments, OK? I will work harder to blog if I know it's not floating into the stratosphere with nary a whimper.
*
TEXT FOR CHAPTER 45:
The
medics arrived too quickly.
Gideon
held the unconscious soldier down on the floor at the far end of the room. It hadn’t
been long enough, not long enough at all.
The
second guard, Sol Tobias, scurried on the other side of Hirsch, pushing up on
his diaphragm to try to remove any obstruction, manipulating Hirsch’s head back
and forward to open the airway, trying to blow air into lungs that wouldn’t
inflate. Gideon grimaced. It wouldn’t work. Gideon felt sure Tobias was from
Aaron’s group of elite security officers, just like Hirsch. If Hirsch hadn’t
been quite so observant, he never would have had to hurt him in the first
place. Such a small thread.
Gideon
pressed his fingers against Hirsch’s wrist. Pulse was losing strength, soaring.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“This
way,” the private said from across the room as he held open the door. Two
people rushed in, past the dead saboteur to the downed soldier beside whom
Gideon and the other guard knelt.
Gideon
recognized Leah Rosen and winced. The doctor was dressed in nonmilitary blue
flannel pajamas and a red terrycloth robe flapping about her knees; her
sneakers were loose, and she carried a bulky leather bag. She pushed her wire
rounded glasses up on her nose as she entered. The man behind her—the medic on
call, Gideon guessed—was pushing a chest-high box on wheels ahead of him. The
crash cart.
They
crossed the small room in four steps, the physician skidding off balance for a
moment on the saboteur’s blood.
“Get
back!” she ordered as she dropped to her knees. The medic bumped Gideon out of
the way as he moved to the doctor’s left, near Hirsch’s shoulder.
“Yossi,
my laryngoscope and an ETT. Move back, move back!” She slipped on latex gloves.
Then, she repositioned Hirsch, pulled his chin up and forward, and placed her
hand on his neck, checking his pulse.
The
medic also put on gloves, then took a white cloth from the top of the bag,
spread it on the floor, and laid the contents of the bag in a line on the
cloth.
“How
long has he not been breathing?”
The
security guard, Tobias, answered. “Three minutes. The prisoner hit him in the
throat as he went down.”
The
doctor grimaced. “We’ll get him back.” But Gideon knew that every tick of the
clock took Hirsch further away.
The
doctor manipulated a lighted silver blade within Hirsch’s mouth, peering in as
she attempted to push a plastic tube down his throat with the other hand.
Hirsch gagged.
The
doctor shifted the bladed instrument sideways and lifted up, pushed the plastic
tube in again.
“Tube
won’t pass,” she said, almost in an automated voice. She pulled out the
laryngoscope. “I have to cut.”
Gideon
stepped back against the wall opposite the mirror.
The
doctor ripped open Hirsch’s shirt from top to bottom, buttons flying off like
small missiles. The medic held out a hand-sized bottle. She grabbed it and
poured a quantity of the brown iodine liquid low onto Hirsch’s neck, wiping it
over his skin. Then she snatched a cloth wrapped package from the towel and
ripped it open. Inside was a scalpel.
“Hold
him.” She moved to Hirsch’s shoulder. The medic grabbed Hirsch’s head and
pulled it back.
A
small line of black followed the scalpel’s blade. Dark blood along Hirsch’s
throat, it turned red as soon as it appeared.
Hirsch
lay motionless.
The
medic held open a paper package containing a plastic airway tube. The doctor
inserted the tube into the throat wound, taping it down.
It
was three minutes since they’d started.
“Ambu
bag,” she said.
The
medic was holding a black balloon. The doctor attached it to the tube and
squeezed air into Hirsch’s lungs. Hirsch’s chest rose.
No.
For
the first time Gideon felt dizzy with the thought that he might not be able to
contain this. He looked up, and his eyes caught the saboteur’s unblinking
stare.
His
own death.
Stop
it.
“Take
over respirations,” the doctor said. The medic moved in, took back the ambu bag
and squeezed again. The doctor pressed her hand to Hirsch’s throat.
“No
pulse. I have to shock.” She pulled cables from the side of the EKG box, and
then slapped a lead onto Hirsch’s chest, another on his side.
Hirsch’s
skin was grey beneath the bright fluorescents.
The
soldier’s chest rose again. Another breath.
The
machine buzzed.
“I
am going to shock on three,” the doctor announced. “Get back. One, two. Yossi,
hands off. Three, everyone’s clear. Now!”
A
jolt of energy went through the leads, and Hirsch’s body jumped.
“V-tach,”
the doctor said, looking at the monitor. “Yossi, start CPR. I’ll ventilate.”
Gideon
could see a thin green trace across the screen—jagged triangles.
Yossi
clamped his hands together, heel of one hand over the other, and pushed down on
the chest. Again. The doctor gave a breath to Hirsch, and then threaded an I.V.
into the inside portion of Hirsch’s elbow. Another breath. She handed a bag of
saline to Gideon.
“Epinephrine
one mg. Time is...0243.” She pushed in the syringe plunger.
Breath.
The doctor looked at the screen. “Yossi, good perfusion. Let’s do another
shock.”
“Yes
doctor.”
The
EKG squealed, charge ready.
“Get
clear. One, two. Yossi, back. Three. Now.”
Like
running a machine, Gideon thought. It was a smooth drill to bring someone back
to life.
Hirsch’s
body jumped.
“Come
on, soldier,” the doctor murmured. “Still V-tach. Yossi, start CPR again.”
“Yes,
ma’am.” Yossi knelt forward and again leaned into Hirsch’s chest.
The
doctor gave another breath. Gideon watched the trace on the screen jiggle with
each compression.
Breath.
The
buzzer on the EKG squealed.
“I’m
going to shock again,” the doctor said. “One, two. Yossi, hands off. Three.
Clear.”
Hirsch
jumped again. The trace on the monitor was flatlined, and then it started to
move in what looked like a better rhythm. The line was stretched out more.
The
doctor nodded. “That did it. Sinus.”
She
motioned to Gideon to elevate the saline bag, then turned. “He’s holding sinus.
Yossi, I need another line please.”
Hirsch’s
chest rose again as the doctor gave another breath.
“Come
on, come on,” Gideon heard the doctor mutter. “You can do better, soldier.”
The
medic pushed a needle into the soldier’s other inside elbow. The doctor gave
another breath.
“I
have that second line now,” Yossi said. He was taping the tubing to the guard’s
forearm, the other guard Tobias holding another bag of saline aloft.
The
doctor gave another breath. “Heart looks better. Still sinus. Pulse oximeter?”
“In
the bag.”
“Give
a four mg Tocofel push, then another four in one minute. Now!”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
The
doctor gave another breath.
“What’s
Tocofel?” Gideon asked.
The
doctor was fixated on the EKG trace, and then she glanced up at him. “Yes,
General. It’s a new drug. Tocofel chemically combines with the free radicals
generated during reperfusion after anoxia. In simple terms, the drug prevents
brain damage.”
“Will
he be able to remember what happened?”
“Very
likely. If we’re in time.”
The
medic pushed in the syringe plunger. Translucent yellow fluid flowed into the
cap of the second I.V. Gideon watched, immobile, as it marked out the I.V. line
and disappeared into Hirsch’s arm.
Gideon
stared, fascinated, at the spectacle of his own demise.
Breath.
The doctor rummaged in the bag and pulled out a box the size of a deck of
cards. She extended the sensor from its side and pushed the clip onto Hirsch’s
finger.
“Sat’s
ninety,” she said. “Come on, soldier.”
Gideon
wished he understood what was going on.
There
was a commotion at the door. The private was out of sight, in the vestibule by
the monitoring room, but Gideon could hear his voice talking to someone, and
running steps. Then he saw Aaron standing at the entrance.
Who
had notified the security chief?
Aaron’s
gaze was trained on him, and Gideon masked his face. Then Aaron broke away to
survey the room. “Lieutenant! What happened?”
Lieutenant.
He’d been right about the other guard, Tobias, being an officer.
Tobias
looked up, juggling the second I.V. bag. It was obvious he hadn’t been aware of
Aaron’s entrance. “Sir, it was so quick.”
“What
happened?”
“General
Gideon was questioning Seidel. Seidel jumped Hirsch, no warning or reason.
Hirsch shot him, but Seidel must have punched him in the throat on the way
down.”
“You
saw Seidel punch him?”
Tobias
shook his head. “It was too quick, sir. Seidel’s dead. And Hirsch is—”
The
doctor looked up. “He’s stable now, Colonel. I don’t know how much damage yet.”
“Why
did he need you?”
“Airway
obstruction. He wasn’t able to breathe.”
“Colonel,”
Gideon said. “I feel responsible. I questioned Seidel. I had no idea he was so
unpredictable.”
Aaron
walked across the room, all the while locking his gaze to Gideon’s. When he
stood next to him, he put his hand on Gideon’s forearm.
“Don’t
worry,” Aaron said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
A
warning? Did he even suspect him?
Gideon
shook his head.
Aaron
stood behind the EKG. “Doctor, what happened?”
She
squeezed the ambu bag, and then looked up. “When the soldier was punched, his
larynx was smashed. I had to do a trache, then resuscitate his heart.”
“Do
you know for sure that he was punched in the throat?”
The
doctor shrugged. “The airway was completely obstructed.”
Breath.
She turned back to study the monitors. “Yossi, sat’s up to ninety five. We’re
almost ready to transport. Wake up Shoshana. Tell her to bring a stretcher on
the double, and oxygen.”
“Yes,
ma’am.” The medic stood stiffly. A large patch of Seidel’s blood from the floor
had dried on his fatigues from the knees down. The medic didn’t seem to notice
it as he walked through the door in search of a telephone.
Aaron
turned his body to Tobias, but his gaze stayed on Gideon. “Lieutenant, is the
camera still live?”
Gideon
twitched his hand involuntarily but otherwise remained immobile. Had it all
been filmed? Or was Aaron bluffing? Where was the camera, what angle? He longed
to sweep the room with his eyes but pulled himself back. Aaron was watching.
Tobias
shifted the bag of intravenous fluid. “Yes, sir, it is.”
“I
want to review the record in five minutes. Get it ready.” Aaron’s eyes were
still on Gideon.
“Here,
sir.” Tobias handed his saline to Gideon.
Gideon
stepped back.
The
doctor looked up again. “This man needs a hospital. I can stabilize him, but I
don’t have the resources to keep him. We need to get him out now.”
“Out
of the question,” Gideon said. “We can’t break the seal over the base for another
week.”
“How
soon would he need to be transported?” Aaron asked.
The
doctor shrugged. “Within the next few hours at the latest. This is a critical
time.”
“I
see,” Aaron said.
The
doctor gave another breath, then checked the monitors. “Heart seems stable.
Sat’s at ninety eight.”
“When
will he wake up?” Aaron asked.
“Unclear.
Depends how long he was anoxic, how much brain damage he may have sustained.”
“I
need to question him.”
The
doctor shook her head. “Your best bet is to get him out of here and to a specialized
unit. That’s all I can tell you.”
The
medic reappeared in the doorway. “Shoshana will be here in five minutes.”
“Excellent.”
Aaron
glanced at Hirsch. “Doctor, you saved his life.”
“Let’s
hope so.”
“Bring
him back.”
He
nodded curtly to the medic as he exited.
“How
is he?” the medic asked.
“Stable.”
Gideon
watched the doctor. She was monitoring the EKG trace and her patient, and
squeezing the ambu bag every five seconds. Blast it; she’d brought him back.
Now, his only hope was that Hirsch wouldn’t wake up in time.
“Let
me take these, General.” The medic reached for the bags of saline.
Gideon
glanced at the monitoring mirror as he walked out. Once he was in the
vestibule, he turned around, scanned the room for possible camera locations. If
it was in the mirror, there was nothing to worry about. Light fixture, a
problem if located there. Doorframe, possible.
Aaron’s
voice filtered through the vestibule. “Yes, General Landau. One hour, your
office. Thank you, sir.”
Aaron
was going over his head to talk with the base commander.
