POEM: The hell of NHS reforms

The year was 1987 - I thought I’d died and come to heaven.

I got this job with the NHS, the wage was poor but I couldn’t care less.

I loved my work, I loved to care, the hours were long but I was always there.

Year by year, my pay improved so I got a mortgage to a house I moved.

Twenty-five years on, I regret to say, money men dictate my pay.

The NHS “reformed” me over, to men in suits - shakers and movers!

Who modernise to make me poor, meanwhile their incomes leap and soar.

When they cut my wages to the bone, I’ll lose my pride, I’ll lose my home.

It’s 2012 and sad to tell, feel I’ve died and come to hell.

B. BERRY

Support Worker,

Learning Disability Service