How do other countries survive without Our NHS?
As long as the institution is treated as an infallible deity to whom only further sacrifices must be made – a few more billion pounds here, a few months locked up inside there – nothing meaningful will change.
I have been lucky enough – or perhaps, unlucky enough – to have to see doctors in a number of different countries. Countries, shockingly, that Our NHS does not serve.
Contrary to what many ‘normies’ may believe, there are places outside the United Kingdom with functioning healthcare systems. I know, it is hard to fathom: although we are taught to be grateful, nay, in a state of borderline ecstasy, when Our Heavenly NHS deigns to treat us – so free, so good, so ours – other countries in the world, ones without Our Glorious NHS, do not just let its citizens collapse and die on the floor when health problems arise.
But 'muh American private healthcare!' I hear you cry. If you are so utterly unable to imagine only two possible variants of health provision - Our Blessed NHS or the Super Evil Yankee System - then perhaps you need to come down with some kind of lurgy somewhere exotic (though not too exotic, I'm not sure how easy it is to see a good doctor in the Gobi desert).
So where have I been?
In Taiwan I found a lump in my armpit. I went online and booked an appointment with a dermatologist for the next day. In the afternoon I made my way to an ultra-modern hospital where I was in and out within an hour, during which time I was registered, examined and given some potion. I paid about £30 for the whole thing.
In Singapore I had to have an injection to travel (but I thought I was anti-vax? That's another story). I rang up and made an appointment for the same day. After handing over about £20 I was done. Another appointment – one to get a sick note for work – was sorted out on the same day for £10 or so.
When I broke my foot in the same country, I took a taxi to the hospital. My damaged paw was put in a cast and I was given a robo-boot to wear. I thought it would cost me hundreds, but at the end I was asked for £40.
In Germany I had to see a doctor for a problem too embarrassing to put to paper. Nevertheless, €20 and a few days later I had all my concerns put at ease by a doctor who was meanwhile laughing at my rather direct explanation of the problem in my then-rudimentary German.
In Russia, and this was now many years ago, I saw a doctor after a bout of tonsillitis. It was the same story: I rang up, arranged an appointment for later that day, handed over £10-or-so and everything was sorted out in rapid time.
None of the countries listed above are lucky enough to have Our Almighty NHS. They enjoy a mixture of private and public healthcare provision, with private insurance an integral part to the system. In each of them, it is possible to see a doctor quickly. What's more, you can see a specialist without the bizarre gatekeeping routine/rationing service employed in the UK: 'Want to see a dermatologist? How about your GP first then an appointment in six months' time?'
The worshipping of Our Peerless NHS is perhaps the most bizarre aspect of modern British culture. It is the provider of a service – like the DVLA or British Telecom – from whom we should expect the best standards, not worship at the feet of.
I don't care whose NHS it is. I just want a good healthcare system. One where it doesn't take weeks to see a GP, where it doesn't require months of waiting to see a specialist, and one which carries out the routine stuff speedily and efficiently.
Of course, sometimes the NHS is good. But when it is, there is utterly no need to get ourselves in an obsequious mess. In such cases it is doing what it should be doing anyway.
But for as long as the institution is treated as an infallible deity to whom only further sacrifices must be made – a few more billion pounds here, a few months locked up inside there – nothing meaningful will change.
