Phoning to book hospital transport, I was horrified to be asked “do you have a DNR (Do not resuscitate) order?”  Next time I was asked the same question, and now it comes every time and reminds me growing old is not for the faint-hesrted.

The thought that if I have an ‘incident’ in an Ambulance, the crew will have been told not to bother to resuscitate me is chilling. Getting onto an Ambulance I make absolutely sure I am as nice as I can be to the crew – just in case.

Then the front page headline in the Daily Telegraph shouted  “NHS made pandemic plan to deny elderly care”.

Of course, the NHS denied they meant to throw us oldies on the scrap heap, but there is no gainsaying that in the past year over 40,000 residents in Care homes died of Covid.  The figure confirmed my suspicions; once we reach the age of 60, the NHS regard us as a nuisance and a burden costing the health service money.

Forget about the fact that most of us have been contributing for years without costing the NHS a penny, so surely we are entitled to payback?   When I reminded one Receptionist that I hadn’t been near the surgery for years, her reply was “but now you are making use of the NHS”, as though that wasn’t on.

I HATE it when Outpatients Receptionists ask in a loud voice “what’s your date of birth?”  instead of asking our name. The moment I mention it, I am immediately shoved in the ‘over-60’ pile.  The NHS thinks of us a number, and if we are aged, doesn’t expect us to improve as we mature, unlike wine.

I often wonder what happens when The Queen sees a doctor, and defy any medic to place Her Majesty in an elderly slot.  HM is walking proof that you don’t lose your marbles as you get older, whatever others think.

Sadly, there is now a double burden on the aged;  conditions such as cataracts, hip and knee replacements, etc. are suffering massive delays for operations, so many elderly patients are raiding their pension pot to pay for treatment privately to get relief from pain.  Just because we are ‘over 60’. why should the NHS assume we don’t want to enjoy sport (albeit in a gentle form) or be stuck at home inside four walls, because it is too much of an effort to go for a walk when we are waiting for the NHS to repaired our joints?

However, most of us haven’t lost our sense of humour, and thanks to Dennis Reed of Silver Voices some of us have recently had a lot of fun at the BBC’s expense.  That Corporation has got far too big for its boots, and when it decided to pay over a £1 million of its licence fee for a potato crisp personality’s fee, and then re-introduce charges for the over 75s, Dennis rallied us and gave us legal ways to – as he put it – Gum Up the Works.

Little things gave us a chuckle, like ways we could legitimately challenge the way demands were sent out.  This was so successful that currently there is an impasse.  The BBC has had to rein in Crapita (sorry – Private Eye’s name is so apt for Capita) and its rottweillers are back in their kennels.

When I was legitimately entitled to a free licence, Crapita harried me so often that I passed the correspondence on to my MP, Greg Hands, who apparently had a section dealing with this.

So now 3/4 million over 75s have yet to pay their licence fee – but the BBC must be thinking of making cuts as one only has to look at their toned-down coverage of the Olympics.  All those staff that used to float in on the massive gravy train have had to stay at home!

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