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Private Health Cover Up

Despite the fact I'm an ancient pile of bones, I still keep my private health cover up.

You just never know when you'll need it. Just the other day old Jonesy up the road needed an ambulance quick-smart when he lit a ciggie while in the bath. A bit of luxury he thought at the time, but he forgot he had kero mixed in and - whoooomph - up he went.

And yesterday Enid got the shock of her life and needed resuscitating when I accidentally popped a Viagra instead of my usual breakfast-time heart pill.

Anyway, private health cover entitles you to a heap of benefits and you know that whenever you need to go to the big white building you'll always get well treated.

That is, until a report just out mentioned the fact that private hospitals are hand-balling private patients around Melbourne so fast they can barely keep track of where they are.

How about this. More than 1800 private emergency cases were told by hospitals in 2000 that there was no room at the inn. That's five a day.

Now this is a private service, paid for by the patients they are trying to fob off.

If these buggas want to charge an arm and a leg for a service they should damn well deliver it. Mind you, the powers that be and their flaccid lower appendages probably don't want to upset anyone over such an insignificant matter as someone's LIFE!

Be warned, Mr Private Health Cover man, get it fixed or I'll hunt you down and leave wheelchair tyremarks all over you pointed heads. Then I may just start breaking your money-grubbing fingers - one by one.

But don't worry, there's probably a private bed somewhere for you.

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com