- CRITTER TALK
- SCI/TECH/OTHER STUFF
Now its’ not entirely free as we pay something called ‘National Insurance’ as part of our income taxes. National Insurance is a very, very, small deduction of our pay. I’m no expert but I would reckon less than half a percent of a pound per month.
Up until the mass immigration policies of our last Labour Government, if you got sick you would be treated for free, treated well and, generally, unless you happened to die, be cured and sent home without so much as vague glance at your wallet or bank balance. They won’t even charge you if you die, which is a plus for your heirs at least!
The same applies today but, sadly, with all the mass immigration, this ‘free’ health service has struggled to cope. It’s tottering to put it mildly.
Still. It continues to be free – apart from the negligible National Insurance contributions, so perhaps we shouldn’t complain too much eh?
I once suffered a suspected heart attack back in 2001. I advised my manager and he had me whisked off to Ashford Hospital in a company van. The driver, Xavier, asked whether he should stay with me.
“It’s ok” I said confidentially, “this place will take care of me”
I tottered in clutching my chest and a nurse appeared.
“Hello, and what can we do for you?” she asked kindly
“I think I’m having a heart attack” I replied
“Oh dear. We only do ‘minor injuries’ here now – I could make you a cup of tea though” – the NHS cuts were already biting!
She plugged me into a heart monitor and wandered off in search of a kettle.
“Hurry up!” I called, “or I might not be here for the tea!”
I was transferred to Hillingdon Hospital, where my wife happens to work as a microbiologist in one of the laboratories. Shortly a doctor appeared, as did my wife and a couple of nurses.
It turned out I wasn’t actually having a heart attack. My blood was so thin I was just gravely anemic and, whilst my heart was pumping happily away, oxygen or whatever it is your heart sorts out was actually not being sorted out.
Having established that I wasn’t about to ’kick the bucket’ I was left attached to a heart monitor, just in case, and the doctor went on his way and the wife went back to work.
A very nice, and very small and attractive Filipino nurse called Rochelle was assigned to care for me but, as it was immediately apparent, I wasn’t destined to shuffle off, she wandered off to care for more urgent cases. I unplugged myself from the heart monitor and nipped down the back stairs for a quick cigarette.
On my return Rochelle grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and literally threw me back on the bed.
“Don’t you DARE ever do that to me again!” she said and gave me a middle range gentle slap on the face.
She was henceforth known as ‘Rocky’ to me.
The care I received was extraordinarily good – well, I came out alive anyway. Although I had paid a measly sum in National Insurance through my salary taxes, I was cared for, fed, given the use of a TV and internet and regularly checked by doctors and nurses.
I was slightly annoyed that Rocky continued to decline my request for a bed bath but, as she’d seen me wander off for a shower each morning I suppose it’s fair enough.
The stresses and strains that Britain’s quite extraordinary NHS has come under were never more clear than on my second last night in hospital.
Some poor chap with a coronary condition was transferred from the Psychiatric Ward who had no facility for coronary care. He spent the entire night trying to climb out of the window 4 floors up with only myself and the diminutive ‘Rocky’ hanging around his neck to stop him.
The British National Health Service has always been, and continues to be, quite unbelievably extraordinary. It is, to all intents and purposes, a ‘free’ health service for all – given the tiny tiny tiny amount of ‘National Insurance’ we pay.
If you are unwell and in need of hospitalization you get it, pretty much free and gratis. No ‘health insurance’, no ‘can you pay the bill?’ questions. You are ill and it’s free – or as free as matters.
Unfortunately, many British doctors and nurses have left the ‘madhouse’ leaving us with medical staff that often can’t even speak or understand English.
Free healthcare is now managed by businessmen and accountants.
We are losing so much allowing businessmen and accountants anywhere near this precious resource.
The British system of health care is still free for all, but it could so easily go bankrupt, or so says my wife, who works in the system.
The fact is you can’t have a ‘free health service’ if profits are involved – and now they are. So if you’re going to get sick in Britain get sick now, because even ‘Rocky’ won’t save you inside a decade if this continues.
God Save The Queen and The NHS!
Mind you, they saved me, so they probably are getting their come uppance eh?