Judith WOODS

Emergency! Crash trolley! Sorry, scrap that – I mean cash trolley! The patient is slipping away under the weight of a 5.6 million-long waiting list in England, and a terminal funding shortfall. What is a Prime Minister to do? I know: how about the wrong thing? How about something that unites the country – in bafflement and outrage?

In an act of derring-do worthy of Holby City – which is to say melodramatic and wholly ridiculous – Boris Johnson has swept in to save the NHS from the brink with (what else?) a whopping £12 billion injection of Brinks Mat bullion, pilfered via a new 1.25 per cent National Insurance levy from young people and low earners.

And also siphoned away from social care, which is, yet again, the Cinderella cause – languishing unloved and overlooked, even as the entire sector teeters on the abyss.

We witnessed how little this Government values the frail and elderly when, with a shocking absence of foresight – of morality – it discharged them from hospital during the pandemic when they were Covidpositive, to unwittingly spread coronavirus and death throughout the nation’s residential homes.

Seriously, if I have to watch yet another care manager gaze dolefully into the camera telling us how chronically understaffed, underfunded and overregulated the industry is, I’ll be Making Other Arrangements for my old age, including, but by no means restricted to, being eaten by next door’s cat.

My circle of girlfriends are paid-up members of the Sandwich Generation, frantically juggling bolshy teenagers and ailing – or simply ageing – parents. They face late-night dashes up motorways to deal with crises, tough decisions and, indeed, negotiations about daily care at home versus a residential setting, and perpetual anxiety about money.

“My mum wants to stay in her house and I know that’s best for her psychologically,” confides my friend Jan. “But she has dementia, and just having a roster of local authority carers coming in for a matter of minutes isn’t enough. My brother and I are currently paying for additional support, but we can’t keep on doing that indefinitely – but nor can we find a decent quality home for her.”

Her mother’s house is valued at around £115,000; the dilemma is whether to sell now or wait. A new £86,000 limit on care liabilities will kick in from October 2023.

Until they reach that cap, anyone with more than £100,000 in assets – including their own home – will be responsible for paying the entirety of their care costs. So-called “hotel costs” – notably, accommodation and food – will not be included in the cap, and these will still need to be funded.

The Treasury expects that, on average, the £86,000 cap will be hit by care home patients after three years and four months, calculated on the basis of a resident paying £36,400 a year, with £10,000 of this falling under “hotel costs”, although these costs are markedly higher in London and the South East.

Call me a cynic, but I doubt it’s any coincidence that official figures show half of care home residents die within a year of arrival, with three-quarters passing away within three years. How felicitous.

“In principle, I don’t have a huge problem with selling my mum’s house to pay for her care, although she would be mortified,” says Jan. “But I feel the system is still unfair and rigged towards the super-rich.”

Unfair and rigged sums up the general consensus about a crackpot policy that weirdly contrives to be simultaneously too radical (a manifesto busting tax) and not nearly radical enough (the NHS is a bottomless money-pit), thereby satisfying no one.

Boris Johnson evidently thinks he’s been brave in seizing the nettle. Unfortunately, he hasn’t gripped it tightly enough and will be nursing the sting for the rest of his term in office.

Real courage would reside in telling the public how it really is; that, from 2004-5, NHS and social care accounted for 28 per cent of public spending, and by 2024-25, it will have reached 40 per cent. More alarming still, that won’t be enough.

As we all live longer and new – invariably expensive – treatments and technologies are developed, which we have every right to expect and receive, NHS costs will spiral.

The only sensible, sane, indeed statesmanlike, course of action would be to introduce some sort of health insurance. Before Lefties bleat about the NHS’S hallowed uniqueness, they would do well to look beyond our borders.

All healthcare systems in the developed world provide universal healthcare, apart from the US. Plenty are free at the point of use. Where modest contributions are demanded, those on low incomes or with severe health needs are exempted.

It’s perfectly possible to clap for healthcare heroes while seeking to improve the institution to which they belong, because, frankly, we deserve better and we’re kidding ourselves that we’re the envy of other nations.

Last month, the NHS lost its rating as the best healthcare system in the world, an accolade it had held for seven years; issues such as access to care and the experiences of lower-income groups were blamed for the slide in standards.

In a survey of healthcare in 11 wealthy countries, carried out by US think tank the Commonwealth Fund, the UK was ranked only in fourth place, behind Norway, the Netherlands and Australia.

More damningly, the league table placed Britain only ninth in a comparison of healthcare outcomes, which includes early deaths, cancer survival and baby deaths at birth.

There is something deeply troubling about the fact the only league table we topped was for “affordability”. How cheap is the life of a newborn in our sclerotic health service?

Instead of fearless reform, Boris has served up a great big fudge. No wonder we’re all feeling so queasy.

Unfair and rigged sums up the consensus on this crackpot policy that satisfies no-one