Dosh For Dementia

Dosh For Dementia

Being a doctor’s a difficult life,

Sometimes it’s hard to make one’s ends meet,

But I had a wonderful dream last night,

A new vision of how things could be sweet.

I dreamed it was easy to make money,

A wheeze that would make me a few bob,

Where I got lots of extra payments,

And that it was for just doing my job!

The NHS had decided to pay me,

Not for working any longer,

But for every diagnosis,

They’d just bung me more wonga!

There’d be a whole range of different payments,

Remuneration on a sliding scale.

I’d just have to do what I did anyway.

With so many patients, how could I fail?

I’d get a fiver for every fever,

Which would quickly add up in the billing,

And a tenner for each tonsillitis -

It would be simple to soon make a killing.

For a twenty, I could find plenty

Of symptoms for which I’d be paid,

And for a fifty, I could be quite nifty,

At seeing a fortune to be made.

Complex cases might pay up to a ton -

I guess the Health Service has thought this right through?

Making a monkey for spotting a junkie

It’d be too easy – but what can I do?

But dementia looks the easiest route:

For that they’ve promised fifty-five pound.

I’ll have a quick scan through my records,

And invite a few of the old dears around.

It’ll be like taking sweets from a baby,

A diagnosis that’s simple to do -

Anyone a bit vague or forgetful,

Will join the back of a new queue.

My Hippocratic Oath will stay intact,

Nor do I see any conflict of interest.

I’ll be able to whizz through appointments,

Which I think is all for the best.

  

Now these are targets that would be welcome,

And I could work for even less hours,

An incentive scheme that works like a dream,

And only adds more to my powers!

I’d be a planner, of my bedside manner,

But the elderly should have nothing to fear.

My retirement fund would grow fast enough,

For me to give up my practice next year.

My pension pot would grow day by day;

It’ll be like money for old rope -

I can spend all day, at leisure and play,

Whilst polishing my stethoscope.

Yes it’s tough being a doctor,

But now I can see how I might cope -

I don’t think it’s rash, to chase after cash,

Nor is it a slippery slope.

It’s just economic reality,

It’s the way that things are starting to tend -

Who wouldn’t want to be, a practising GP,

When it’s clear where this will all end?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014