Chemo Delayed, But Your Vegan Sausage Roll’s On Time
As NHS strikes loom again and cancer patients are left twiddling their IV lines, perhaps it’s time we handed national healthcare over to Greggs — they’ve mastered fast delivery and consistency.
Oh no. Not again.
As if cancer patients didn’t have enough to worry about… what with their lives hanging in the balance, treatment plans being shuffled like a deck of cards and scans booked somewhere between “later this year” and “when pigs evolve wings”; now they have to stress about the NHS grinding to a halt. Again.
Yes, doctors are threatening to go back on strike. Again. Nurses too. Because a 5.4% pay rise simply isn’t enough to compensate for 16-hour shifts, being screamed at by politicians, and trying to save lives using hospital equipment that was probably last serviced during the Crimean War.
Look I get it. I wouldn’t want to be elbow-deep in someone’s bowel at 3am only to discover my pay packet doesn’t even stretch far enough to buy a half-decent sausage roll. But here’s the thing, there’s a queue folks. A very long, very slow, very desperate queue of people with terminal illnesses, slowly wasting away while we bicker over spreadsheets and industrial action.
Meanwhile, I’ve got an app on my phone that can deliver me a triple cheeseburger, two hash browns, a side of mozzarella sticks and a vegan milkshake I didn’t ask for, in seven minutes. Seven. From the moment I tap “order” to the moment some teenager in a hi-vis vest skids onto my driveway smelling of fryer grease… seven bloody minutes. You try getting an NHS oncology appointment in seven minutes. Hell, you’d be lucky to get hold music in seven minutes.
What’s even more maddening is this bizarre governmental belief that you can fund pay rises by “cutting waste” and “halving bureaucracy”. Which is rich, considering the average NHS meeting involves 12 people, 17 forms, four biscuits and an hour spent deciding how to reschedule the next meeting. If bureaucracy could be weaponised, we’d have defeated climate change and cured alopecia by now.
Also into this mess, we pour more chaos. Junior doctors, who got a 22% pay rise last year, now want another 10-20% because apparently we’re aiming for 2008 salary levels. That’s the financial equivalent of asking to go back to the time when a bottle of wine cost 50p and your mortgage came with a free toaster.
Now I’m not saying doctors don’t deserve more money. They absolutely do. I wouldn’t trust myself to draw blood from a satsuma, let alone perform surgery. But maybe… just maybe… there should be a little clause in the union playbook that says: “We will not strike if it means delaying chemotherapy for Brenda in Swindon whose tumour is growing faster than Wes Streeting’s social media profile.”
Because let’s not forget who ends up shafted in all this; cancer patients. The people who don’t have time to wait. Who don’t get a do-over if their radiotherapy gets bumped for a policy meeting. Who, quite frankly, couldn’t care less about who got 3.6% and who got 5.4%. They just want a chance. A fair shot. A working scanner and someone qualified to use it.
But instead, what do they get? Stress. Uncertainty. And another letter politely informing them their “urgent” treatment has been moved to the week after the Sun explodes.
So by all means, fight for fair pay. Wave the placards. Chant the chants. But let’s stop pretending this is a game of Monopoly with infinite turns and no consequences.
Because if we really care… really care… about protecting our NHS, then let’s start by protecting those who need it the most. Not the loudest, not the angriest, not the ones who’ve memorised the HR handbook. But the cancer patients. The ones whose clocks are ticking.
And if we can’t prioritise them?
Well, maybe we should let Greggs run the NHS. At least they know how to deliver under pressure.
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Chris Geiger, Author of The Cancer Survivors Club.
Daily Dose of Disbelief!
Bsky: @chrisgeiger.com
Bsky: @thecancersurvivorsclub.com
Bsky: @dailydoseofdisbelief.com
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