The Slow-Drip Scandal Killing Victims Faster Than the Government Can Compensate Them
Bled Dry - Britain’s Deadliest Medical Scandal
Right, let me start with the obvious:… if you’re reading this and you’ve never heard of the contaminated blood scandal, congratulations… you’ve somehow managed to live under a rock, without Wi-Fi and possibly in a coma since the 1970s. But for the rest of us, especially those of us who needed blood just to stay alive, like yours truly, this isn’t just history. It’s personal. It’s a transfusion-flavoured kick in the gut.
See, during my cancer treatment, I received so many transfusions I practically qualified as a part-time vampire. Blood. Platelets. More blood. At one point, I was basically being kept alive by a Tesco Value version of the circulatory system… all held together by tubes, hope and bags of O-negative. Without it, I wouldn’t be here now.
But I do remember that awful moment when my consultant casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, there’s a small chance you may have contracted hepatitis from one of your transfusions.” He might as well have said, “We’ve just spotted a crocodile in your bone marrow.” Because the bottom fell out of my stomach faster than my haemoglobin count on day four of chemo.
Thankfully, I was one of the lucky ones. Somehow… perhaps by sheer force of will or my body’s stubborn refusal to host one more thing, I dodged that bullet. But thousands didn’t. And they’ve spent decades living with the fallout.
So now we’re being told, again… that the government’s finally getting around to sorting compensation. Marvellous! Except it turns out “getting around to it” means a glorified spreadsheet, a few stiff statements and a timetable that runs slower than an NHS blood test result over a Bank Holiday weekend.
Some victims have waited 40 years. Forty. That’s enough time to go from being infected as a child to dying of complications before the cheque ever arrives. And yes, people are dying… every three to four days… while the government faffs about with frameworks, deadlines and a compensation calculator that apparently thinks time is infinite and humans are immortal.
According to the current plan, the bulk of payments won’t be made until 2027. That’s right, 2027! By which point, many victims will have gone the way of their functioning liver. And the rest? Their dependents, their children, their elderly parents… well they’ll just have to wait until 2029, because apparently spreadsheets need time to reach emotional maturity.
I mean what in the name of haemoglobin is going on? You wouldn’t treat a blood clot this slowly. If you walked into A&E spewing blood and the doctor said, “Hang on, we’ll treat the bulk of you in four years,” you’d call a lawyer. Or at least the Daily Mail.
But this isn’t incompetence. It feels suspiciously like a strategy. Because let’s face it; the longer they drag this out, the fewer people they have to pay. It’s like waiting for your red blood cells to just give up so you don’t need another transfusion. Morally indefensible, financially convenient.
The survivors, the ones still here, are beyond angry. They’re suicidal. Confused. Exhausted. They’ve filled out paperwork, fought legal battles, held vigils and buried friends. All while listening to government statements that read like they were generated by someone after a lobotomy.
Even the compensation itself is riddled with errors. Infection dates wrong. Payouts miscalculated. Forms with more holes than a blood donor’s arm. In one case, the victim was nearly underpaid £160,000. Which is the financial equivalent of transfusing someone with Ribena and calling it close enough.
Let me be clear… these aren’t just numbers. These are lives. Real people, like Carolyn, like Andy, like Kathleen… who buried her husband and son and then died of brain cancer before seeing a penny. You cannot throw money at grief and expect it to vanish. But what you can do is show some respect. Honour a promise. And maybe, just maybe, don’t wait until the last drop has dried up to do it.
So here’s the bottom line… they don’t need another report. They don’t need more hearings. What they need is a sense of bloody urgency.
And after everything, after all the chemo and fear, and bags of anonymous red lifeblood keeping me alive… I’d quite like to live in a country where accepting a transfusion doesn’t come with a lifetime of bureaucratic betrayal.
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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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