NHS

I was just composing a response to an unflattering comment on my fabulous blog, Flatulent Prospects™, when I interrupted myself with some thoughts about mikael moore and his latest cinematic effort. Please find below my observations, preserved for future reference.

But first, by way of prologue, allow me to reminisce. Back when the primordial ooze was just stirring itself in litoral tidepools to bring forth cellular lifeforms beneath a methane atmosphere, and I was in high school, the topic for scholastic debate clubs was National Health Care. I was an unmotivated scholar in those long-ago days, before any capacity for human speech had evolved, and I have not retained my carelessly prepared notes. I don't even recall which side I argued for most frequently. In the ensuing epochs and eons, my worldview has come into tighter focus, and I tend to favor private enterprise over government bureaucracy. I'd rather deal with greed than incompetence.

I personally have had virtually nothing to do with the health care industry at any time in my several billion years. I was born, after a manner of speaking. Vaccinated. A few necessary checkups for employment and travel and fostering. Some stapling and stitches. That's it. I don't even really talk about it. Once, though, I was in a group and a fellow said health care should be paid for by the government -- I forget the jargon -- and being the resident conservative, naturally all eyes fell upon me. Ah, how I love attention.

Puffing out my brawny chest like a preening peacock, and drawing out my full 76 inches -- of height -- I tilted back my head haughtily and spoke down my patrician nose at them in a stentorian and overbearing drawl, thusly: "Harken unto my words, children. When you exercise regularily, and eat sensibly, and don't drink or smoke or take drugs, and do every reasonable thing to take responsibility for your own health, then come and talk to me about wanting other people to pay your doctor bills." Really, that's what I said mostly. God I'm smart.

All that is opinion, though. Here are some facts. There is nationalized health care in Great Britain, where nearly one million Brits are on NHS waiting lists for medical treatment, and another 200,000 are on waiting lists to get onto the waiting lists. Patients "wait years for routine -- or even emergency -- treatments. And many die while waiting. [¶] Indeed, the NHS cancels around 100,000 operations because of shortages each year." Appointments for regular checkups are increasingly difficult to get, and facilities are "notoriously unfit." When hospitalized, "more than 10 percent of patients contract [additional] infections and illnesses .... [and] up to 60 percent of NHS patients are undernourished during inpatient stays."

The system is so grim that the patron/victims of the NHS are turning to privatized care. Consequently, over "6.5 million people have private medical insurance, 6 million have cash plans, 8 million pay out-of-pocket for a range of complimentary therapies, and 250,000 self-fund each year for private surgery. Millions more opt for private dentistry, ophthalmics and long-term care." What is developing is a bastard system of privately funded Independent Foundation Trusts to which the government sends its charges (people) and accepts the charges (bills) in turn.

Even so, expenses are too high. "So in addition to waiting lists, substandard care and increased outsourcing, the government has adopted outright rationing to control costs. ...[It] now empowers government-appointed experts to dictate which drugs, procedures and treatments are available for public consumption. Charged with controlling costs and watching the bottom line, these bureaucrats are expected to save money -- not lives. ...The criteria for these denials of care are kept from the public. And patients who could be saved needlessly die."

Hardly the Socialist Paradise that theory predicted. Reality is so rude. Well. Isn't all of that interesting? Amazing how much confusion can be cleared up, with a few facts. So then. I guess that's it. Uh, well, bye-bye then.


J

Huh? What's that? You said something? Oh, you're very interested in knowing what response I was writing to that unfavorable comment on my fabulous blog, Fornicating Prosthetics™, that I mentioned earlier? Why of course, of course I will indulge your idle curiosity. After you've done so much for me, how could I refuse you? All the kind comments you've left, and your encouragement when you've sensed my loneliness and anguish -- how could I remain silent in the face of your manifest consideration? No. No. Generosity and courtesy like yours must be answered. So here's what my response is:

Dear Stupid --

I am so sorry you did not like what I wrote. That would be because you are a retard, and you are too pathetic to understand the meaning of the words and concepts presented by me for intelligent people to read. Unlike you, who are a spaz who should be beaten to death with a mallet. Should I write in moos or in oinks, for you to get it? If you ever take time off from picking at your anal warts, maybe you will volunteer to let surgeons fill your cranium with dog feces, to see how much your IQ improves. I predict 800%.

Your mother is a whore.

J

There. Happy now? Cuz heaven forfend that I should let you down in any way. That would be really bad of me, really low. It would be like someone reading someone's blog and never doing a certain someone the common decency of bothering to say hi, or thanks, or Hey Jack I just read your blog and it's okay, or anything like that. So screw you. Your mother is a whore.


J