Right now, somewhere in the UK, someone’s grandparent is lying on the floor after losing their balance and falling. They’re staring at the wallpaper they never really liked, regretting skipping their Tai Chi class. They’ve already pressed the emergency lifeline button they wear around their neck for just this sort of scenario, and the control centre has dutifully called 999 on their behalf. That was five hours ago. Now, they’re left wondering whether to hold their bladder until the ambulance finally arrives or just let it go and join the ranks of those lucky enough to surrender only their dignity instead of their life. If you’re starting this book now and planning to go from cover to cover in one sitting, by the time you reach the end, unless you’ve got the reading age of a firefighter, they’ll probably still be lying there. Have they wet themselves? Flip a coin. If you haven’t seen the news, it’s all gone to pot because ambulances are stuck outside full hospitals in long, static queues. This has knock-on effects for our response times, which are nothing short of disastrous. And guess what happens when ambulances take longer to get to 999 calls? Welcome to the NHS, where the only thing slower than an ambulance response is a politician’s apology. Which is why I started writing this book. Because I’m angry. Furious, in fact. Angry at a health system that’s keeping patients in conditions that would violate the Animal Welfare Act 2006. I’ve spent too long watching people suffer, die, or wait while suffering before finally succumbing to death. All the while, politicians bleat about ‘difficult decisions’ and ‘financial prudence.’ So here it is. My attempt to shine a light on the daily s**t show that is modern healthcare. Unfortunately, you’ll need to stick around and follow my career to get the full picture. Just another paramedic, treading water and trying not to get swallowed up by the system.