Back to Blog Home

So, about five years ago my great-uncle went to see his primary care doctor because of trouble with his heart, and his doctor sent him to see a heart specialist. The heart specialist told my great-uncle that he needed serious heart surgery.

But then the evil National Health Service (NHS) Death Panel stepped in and decreed that my great-uncle, a regular guy who had spent most of his working life on a factory production line, was too old (71) and was therefore of no further use to society. He was not entitled to expensive heart bypass surgery. That kind of surgery was strictly rationed for only younger people. The evil NHS Death Panel also decreed that it was more cost effective simply to euthanize him and turn him into soylent green crackers. Because, the evil NHS Panel explained, my great-uncle would be doing society one last service by providing it with food. A win-win situation!

Then, nearly three years ago, my niece became pregnant. How lovely, we all thought. It’s about time for another addition to the family. We love babies! However, during her excellent, routine, NHS pre-natal care, it was discovered that her fetus had Down Syndrome. That was a blow, but being in a loving, stable relationship, and having a close, supportive family, and after much thought, my niece decided to proceed with the pregnancy. Her body, her choice.

But then the evil NHS Death Panel stepped in and decreed that a Down Syndrome child would be a drain on society, could have no useful purpose whatsoever, and so forced my niece to have a termination. For the good of the nation, you understand. Plus, the evil NHS Death Panel loves nothing more than to eat babies.

Fast forward in time to last year. My dear grandmother (then 85), who has Alzheimer’s and diabetes, became dangerously ill. She couldn’t eat or drink. She could barely get out of bed, and we all feared the worst. After several home visits from her primary care physician, an ambulance was called.

When my grandmother arrived at the hospital the evil NHS Death Panel told the ambulance team not to bother taking her out of the ambulance, because the NHS hospital wasn’t going to bear the expense of treating her. It further decreed that because she was no longer a useful member of society, and old (evil NHS Death Panels hate old people) she, too, must be euthanized and–you guessed–turned into soylent green crackers.

“OMG! Where is this dystopia of which you speak?” I hear you all cry.

Oh, you know, that socialist, evil place more commonly know as Great Britain, where we have socialized medicine (so that we can kill people who no longer have any value to society), socialized schools (it’s okay, the evil school Death Panels kill all the kids who have an IQ of less than 100, or ones who are naughty), socialized police (the evil police Death Panels kill all the criminals for us so we don’t have to pay for their prison stays via taxes), and a variety of other socialized institutions like public libraries (our evil librarian Death Panels kill all the people who return their books late, or people who want to read books they don’t approve of), much like many other first-world countries.

“OMG, shall we send in an emergency rescue team to swoop down in their Blackhawks to rescue you? Tell us Great Britain isn’t really like that novel we read in school–you know–the one written by that author who really hated social injustice. That George Orwell guy. Tell us it ain’t so!”

Relax. It ain’t so. And although all three scenarious I described above are true, the outcomes of those scenarios are not, and in a moment I shall tell you their true happy endings.

But why set up this silly, horrible, dystopic picture of Great Britain in the first place? Because I have been rather shocked over the past week to see some American media outlets, astroturf websites, and American politicians uttering these lies about our British NHS, to distract good Americans from your debate about your own system and suggested reforms.

You even had one of our extremist idiot Euro MP’s on TV saying bad things about our NHS (and let me just add that, come election time, this guy will be toast–he will either be de-selected by his party or voted out, I can more-or-less guarantee that). David Cameron, the head of this idiot’s party, was really quick to jump in and refute this idiot’s comments, and reiterate how much he, David Cameron, loves the NHS and would protect it if elected Prime Minister. Our Prime Minister and his wife also quickly joined the twitter campaign without losing any time.

And as for the two British ladies used for this dishonest campaign of lying to the American public? They were both quick to say that they were deceived, and that their comments were not used in the way that had been explained to them. They were a little naive to take part, but the point is that they want the NHS improved, not abandoned.

In fact, Brits love the NHS so much, we consider it one of our greatest achievements. A national treasure. A bit tarnished around the edges, but nothing a little TLC can’t fix. I am not saying it is perfect, because it is not. It IS socialized medicine (why is socialist such a bad word, BTW?), and the reason it was set up in the first place is because we consider health care to be a basic human right for all of our citizens, just like the basic human right of education for all of our children.

True, it is paid for by our taxes – everybody’s taxes – and everyone is entitled to use it for free at the point of need, whether they are millionaires or just some regular guy like my great-uncle. But we can also take out private health insurance if we want to, and can afford it, and we can also pay to be treated privately, if we can afford it. But the security of having the NHS to hold our backs is that at least we don’t usually have to sell our houses or declare bankruptcy because someone in the family became ill.

Most of you know that I spent six years living in your wonderful country (I joke to my friends that I wish I was half American), so have first-hand experience of both systems. I don’t intend to do a comparison, firstly because this blog would turn into a book, secondly, because blogger Strawberry, an American who spent 14 years in Great Britain, has done a really good job of doing precisely that here (excellent overview), and thirdly, because I haven’t yet told you the outcome of my three family-health scenarios.

My great-uncle was put on a waiting list not just because there were people more ill ahead of him, but also because his doctor was concerned about him having the surgery due to him being very overweight. I am happy to report that he lost weight, had the surgery, and five years later he is still in good shape for a man his age.

The prognosis of Down Syndrome was false (people make mistakes in all professions) and my niece gave birth to a lovely baby girl. We love her to bits. We would still love her to bits if she did have Down Syndrome, too.

My grandmother was admitted to hospital and treated by specialists. They adjusted her meds, and she is happy, physically quite healthy, and still reading romances, despite her advanced Alzheimer’s.

One last thing. You all know that Professor Stephen Hawking is secretly British, yes? I think we will keep this national treasure, too.