BEATS OF LOVE
147. How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead
LIKE FARAGE, the NHS has failed me.
Unable to afford Harley Street, I spent six agonizing months being misdiagnosed, all the while knowing something was deeply wrong. Eventually, I was referred to a private clinic. I arrived at the hospital before my medical files did, only to find that the promised bedside morphine drip didn't exist. Another six months of waiting followed before I finally received the news: my testicular cancer was not life-threatening.
Some time later, a specialist at Christie's told me I was susceptible to cancer, so better quit smoking. I did, unlike Farage, who's still adamant in public that the doctors have it wrong. After five years of follow-ups, finally getting the all-clear was a great experience with the NHS. Again, unlike Farage, who hasn't forgiven the NHS and Indian doctors for misdiagnosing in the early stages, I still feel a deep gratitude.
I once romanticised being born earlier, but thank God I wasn't. Medical mortality rates were dangerously high before the 1970s. This utterly dismantles Farage’s angry rhetoric, claiming the NHS nearly killed him. He is simply weaponising public ignorance to spin a non-story into a political headline.
A familiar pattern emerges; folk who didn't know the survival rate is now over 90% probably think stopping a few thousand people from building a life here will make everything great again. Convinced again, wrongly that there has ever been a point in history when the working poor ever felt great. Farage exploits all ignorance, controlling the political temperature with falsehoods.
Like his idea of deregulation won't lead to working in poorer conditions for worse pay and longer hours, or replacing an unreformed NHS with an insurance-based model for us all won't cause controversy and death.
No comments:
Post a Comment