Health Tourism: NHS Holidays

Have you tried getting a doctor's appointment recently? It's impossible. Unless you ring the second your doctor's surgery opens, and I literally mean the second the phone line opens. You are going to be waiting a very long time for an appointment, or even worse, the dreaded; "Sorry we don't have any appointments left for this week, try ringing back next week."

I'm not denying that the NHS is busy and over-stretched in recent years with certain budget cuts. However, i've come to learn that people from oversees (in the EU, and outside of) have had green tinted glasses on over our free health care, and decided to take a slice of our NHS cake. Which has been aptly dubbed as, 'health tourism.'

So it seems like the UK has another tourist attraction, the NHS. Move over queeny.

But who are these 'health tourists', I hear you cry! Well, let me explain to you. Any non British resident using the health care system; a tourist deliberately coming over to the UK for an operation, say a knee surgery and dear old nannies and grandads coming back over from Spain to see their 'trusted GP.'

But at what cost? 

It's been estimated that these tourists cost the UK tax payer, two billion pounds a year. While there are so many arguments for this, lets keep to the argument of looking at someone who specifically travels to the UK for surgery to leave the UK. 

Despite the fact that they are using our free health care system, instead of actually having to pay for it, they are also putting a strain on the NHS where taxpaying citizens are waiting for weeks on end for surgery that they are entitled to, instead someone has decided to take an NHS holiday.

Health Secretary, Jeremy Hunt, has proposed that non-British residents would have to pay for emergency treatment such as A&E, a basic assessment by a Doctor in A&E costs at least £56, so this isn't cheap, but it is to help clampdown on these 'health tourists'. These charges are set to be introduced sometime in November to help fund some more money back into the NHS. 

While in April last year, the British Medical Association chair man, Mark Porter, spoke against these chargers; 

"Anyone accessing NHS services should be eligible to do so, but a doctor's duty is to treat the patient that's in front of them, not to act as a border guard."

Thanks, but no thanks, I don't think I want to share my slice of the NHS cake.

Lets Talk Periods: The Tampon Tax

Lets talk about one of the ancient taboos. Periods.  More specifically the sanitary products that women are required to purchase at some point of every month, so they can go out and function as a member of society. 

If you ask any women these products are essential, so why are women forced to pay the additional 5% "luxury tax" for items which are sanitary and are no way a luxury. I wasn't aware that my painful monthly periods are a luxury?

Then why did the House of Commons reject the motion of abolishing the 5% tax, (305 votes to 287 if you want to know) on women's health products. However, while women are taxed for having a uterus, male "essential" items such as razors remain untaxed? If men were cursed with the burden of periods I wouldn't be writing this article. 

David Cameron has attempted to defend this rejection by stating that, this tax is not enforced by the UK and is by the EU which is difficult to "overthrow". Which just sounds like an half-assed excuse from a teenager who didn't want to clean their room, or is this part of Cameron's wider plan get disgruntled women to vote against staying in the EU so they don't have to pay extra for tampons.

While this topic screams inequality towards women, on the 15th October French MP's voted against overthrowing the tax on sanitary products purely because the french government didn't want to lose the tax revenue which is €55 Million (£40 Million). Which is something to think about, if a woman is on minimum wage she will have to work 38 days to pay for a years supply of sanitary products. 

So do the government consider a lack of female voice as an opportunity to treat us as bloody cash cows? But what about women who can't afford a meal let alone a 'luxury item' to help prevent them getting hazardous infections. 

But what do I know? I'm probably on my period, right? 

Life review: Staying in bed all day did me some good.

Because life is so weird and wonderful, it can all be a bit too much; and the human beings we are, we don't always get it right and it leaves us thinking, "What the fuck was that?"  "Why did I do that?" "I'm a terrible human being." 

This generally happens to me the morning after i've been out drinking. Hangovers tend to give me existential crises, which makes me go into meltdown mode. With having questions ranging from, what is my purpose in life? To, do I really need to be a functioning member of society? Which usually finally concludes with, if currency is mere bits of paper why am I striving so hard in life for paper to make up my self worth?

But, none of this happened yesterday. 

Instead of my usual gloomy, stereotypical hangover thoughts mixed with a quarter life crisis, my head space was completely blank. 

I did spend my entire day in bed, but not because I felt like a piece of shit having a shitty little crisis, but it was the complete opposite, it was because I didn't feel like shit. Sure, I was definitely hungover, I felt like Satan himself had eaten me alive and shit me back out. 

So I decided to take the day as a personal day off from life. All responsibilities I had for that day got my middle finger rammed in its face. I wasn't doing anything for anyone, that day was Rosie's Day.  

So I binged on Netflix, I watched 'funny' people try to be funny and documentaries on the most bizarre things. I took the day as to relieve all the sudden stress I had been put under pressure with (and nursing the hangover). I ate shitty food and I laughed with each housemate who decided to pop into my room to make sure I was alive. 

As life passes us by, work stress and other things keeping us up at night. We forget to take a day off for ourselves, sure, sometimes we take a day off under the duvet watching shitty films. Why do we always feel bad about that day, as soon as we wake up the next day as we didn't do anything 'productive'? But, what about taking care of yourself by doing nothing, isn't that a productive part of life? 

We all need some good quality TLC sometimes, and that day was just what I needed, I got a proper nights sleep and when I awoke the next morning I was the happiest and motivated I had been in weeks. (and hangover free, hoorah!)

So even though I had spent an entire day festering under my duvet watching shit on Netflix that in no way shape or form will enlighten my life, I took care of myself. I stopped stressing and enjoyed a rare euphoric bliss that comes with not stressing about anything. 

Grieving.

My summer this summer had been... interesting. It definitely had its ups, like using my rent money to buy a Reading festival ticket last minute and see my favourite band live, get incredibly drunk and live in a tent of my own filth for a weekend. But it also had its lows, like the worst day of my life. The day where I lost my four legged best friend.


I know what you're thinking, it was just a pet right? How can someone be THAT upset about a pet?



You're wrong. You're so wrong.



I had grown up with my dog Stella. I had her since I was 5, and she was always there. She was the best part about coming home, just to know that I had a big slobbery welcome waiting for me when I came home, or someone to share my bed with on those cold nights. She was the dog with the biggest personality, we had a joke in my house that one day she was going to start talking to me.  But none of that is happening to me anymore.

The day she passed away will be forever etched into my head, it'll be one I will never forget. A little backstory to this, Stella had a heart condition ever since she was a puppy and has been in and out of the vets ever since we had her. So one morning when everyone in my house had work or school (myself included) it was like any other morning until my mum noticed that Stella wasn't her usual self. She was stuck in her bed and couldn't get out of it, immediately we all thought it was something wrong with her heart and mum took the morning off and took her to the vets. However I couldn't do the same.

I spent half of my day at work checking my phone constantly, and trying not to burst into tears on my boss.
Until I got that phone call.
That phone call where everything changed.  It was my mum saying that Stella was on our way out and this was my time to say my final goodbye.

My world just.. stopped.



It stopped for about two weeks, I took a lot of time off work, I stopped seeing my friends, ate my body weight in ice cream and cried about a fork. Nothing I could do or even think of, I couldn't escape the thought of her not being there. I didn't have anymore big welcome homes, no more bed sharing and no more random talking to her. She was gone, I was alone.  Part of me died with her that day. My childhood died. So I tried to escape it.


I worked and worked and worked. I worked so much that i'd come in and climb into bed, sleep the night to only get back up for work the next day. I didn't want to think so I tried to run so far away from my grieving, because if I didn't grieve she'd come surely come back, right? Wrong.

Life was empty and so was I, but life was catching up with me. I had to go back to uni in a couple of weeks, I couldn't of gone in the state I was in. I had to sort myself out.
So I let it out, I cried and I cried, I cried over the silly things like not having her bed to trip over in the mornings, or having her moan at me of a night time when I was keeping her up on my laptop.
I got a tattoo for her, on my ribs as close to my heart as I could've gotten for her. I got photos blown up of her, I spoke about her to my friends and laughed with them about the memories they had of her aswell.


It helped, i've come to terms that she's gone physically. But she's forever living in my heart in her memories and in on the photos I have stuck all over my walls. Not a day will go by that I won't think of her, or miss her with every single part of me.



R.I.P Stella, my silver haired princess. I love you, always.

NHS(ex Change.)

While I was at home for the easter break I had the unfortunate pleasure of coming across The Sun newspaper. After lecturing whoever brought it into my house, I gave it a read myself.

I came across an interesting article of a 65 year old man wanted the NHS to pay for his sex change so he could become the woman he knew he was; Roxanne.

The ex-solider, father of four, formerly known as 'Doug'  has been currently having feminisation lessons. This is where she has been learning to walk, talk and act like a woman. She has also been having lessons where she is learning to pitch her voice like singer Cher's.

Despite having these lessons paid for her by the NHS and receiving benefits Roxanne Yeatman wants the NHS (or to really hammer the nail into the coffin, you, the tax payer.) to pay £20,000 for her to have her surgery and carry on with her counselling (lessons) so then she can be truly happy, after claiming that she was 'born in the wrong body.' Roxanne was previously married for 21 and states that she felt 'that the grass was greener on the other side.'

I'm all for these types of surgeries, you can't help if you feel as if you were born the wrong gender. But my issue is with the rise of vanity surgeries and putting extra stress on an already stretched NHS. I've read and heard countless stories of people having their surgeries pushed back to lack of staff or lack of time, and having to wait another 6 weeks in pain etc. So why allow vanity operations like this to happen if we can't even look after our sick properly?

I googled NHS boob job in search of counting how many articles I could find of girls having their boobs done on the NHS but the first link I came across was a genuine link questioning if you were eligible for a free boob job on the NHS. The website briefly outlines that the NHS is for illness and gives you a brief criteria of the standards you'd have to meet if you wanted the tax payer to pay for you to get your boobs done. Don't believe me? Check it out here.

So while i'm sat here writing this at 20 to 2 in the morning I'm sat here in disbelief. Is society really going to promote vanity over health and give people free boob jobs and sex changes, and go "Aw no buddy you don't have to pay a single penny, we just need to tell this sick person we can't afford to employ enough staff to look after them."

Oh no! Not another blog post about cats and the internet!

Help me I sound like every other blogger out there moaning about people finding cats looking silly funny. Nope.  I actually enjoy this internet cat culture we've created for ourselves.

The Egyptians had their worshipping of cats, and now we've got ours. Ours is just funnier, cuter (or whatever you wanna call it.) Regardless, we're worshipping cats in our own way.

Maybe thats what the cats want, maybe the cats created the internet with the knowledge that they will be celebrated by the millions of internet users, and i'm not even talking about the obvious cat owner users.

You think i'm wrong? We have cat celebrities on the internet now. I can name three of these celebricats right now without even having to open google to research some. Grumpy cat, Nyan Cat & Lil Bub (I don't even open google for those, honest.)
Close your eyes now and test yourself to see how many cats you can name without having to google them. Theres hundreds of these celebricats and even more 'upcoming' celebricats. Just like normal celebrities, but these have two more legs, a lot more furrier and damn straight a lot more cuter.

I admit I am part of this online cat culture and i've bought into it. Grumpy cat for me is probably one of the best things ever. I have countless photos of her saved onto my laptop and I even have the official grumpy cat book and a t-shirt. Best part is, I don't even care if you're judging me about it right now. I just find it too damn funny. 

Grumpy cat came into the spotlight in 2012 through a post on reddit. The internet exploded with photos of this cat and funny captions to accompany the image. The cat looks grumpy due to feline dwarfism, and has been featured on the front page of The Wall Street Journal, and on the cover of New York Magazine.

Planes going missing... in flight?!

Malaysian flight MH370 disappeared mid-flight with 239 passengers with crew on board Kuala Lumpur to Beijing. Is it just me or does this scare the living shit out of anyone?

You think with our times today, where we can buy 'spy gear' on Amazon and get teddies with camcorders in them to 'protect our children' (When we basically want to see if we're getting our money’s worth from our babysitters.) we wouldn't be able to lose an entire aircraft mid-flight.

But somehow this has actually happened.

No distress call was made from the aircraft and as of right now. No wreckage has been found. So this begs the question: Where is flight MH370?

Coverage of these horrifying turn of events has been incredibly calm from the BBC and for me, that’s even scarier. How can the BBC be so calm when a large aircraft has just disappeared into thin air? It's covered as the normal news day feature, but I’m pretty sure no aircraft has gone missing mid-flight since ‘09. Especially for someone like me, who is petrified of flying I'd expect some kind of... urgency in the broadcast; or at least more of a feeling that they're desperate to at least know what happened to the flight. Good or bad.

Recent stories about the flight have led to suggest the flight may be a subject to a terrorist attack, where two of the plane's passengers were travelling on previously reported stolen passports. But that has recently been ruled to just be illegal migration. On all formats of modern media everyone has brought in an expert for them to just scratch their head, umm and errr for a bit and then conclude with an “I don’t know.”

What I want to see is more compassion across the media. From everything I’ve watched with fear in my eyes, barely any of the media packages include interviews with the families of people lost in the flight and their opinions. No compassion, no sympathy, no voice for those affected.

Regardless for all of this, if I wasn’t scared of flying, I definitely am now.