Whenever I ended up in casualty, as it was known in my earlier days, I was ambulatory and therefore not rushed through for immediate attention. I have a high pain threshold and this was a mixed blessing, as I was in fair need of speedier medical help on at least two occasions but so cowed by the harried staff that I kept my whinges to myself and dealt with the attending doctors' amazed expressions with fortitude when I finally saw them. And hey, I am still here to tell the tale.

Now, if I had children, things might be different. I am splendidly childless, or childfree as I prefer to call it. Not so an army of my friends. A pair of the same lives in Ballyfermot and has calculated that it would be quicker to bring their young daughter to Kilkenny, 90 minutes drive from their house and where there is NO WAITING TIME in A&E, rather than go to a Dublin hospital. It's lamentable that they've had to come up with an alternative plan at all for an emergency, but I have to hand one thing to to them, it's resourceful thinking.

And with the way our medical system is right now, we all have to have a back-up plan. Your health may be your wealth but, frankly, it's a liability here and now in Ireland. So it got me thinking, how would I cope? In the spirit of being civic-minded, I've been wondering what I can do to ease the pressures on our beleaguered health service? Ask not what your country can do for you, and all that. A little incident with one of my elderly lady cats may have provided the answer.

One of said pets had to be taken to our local vet recently. She was uncomfortable and a bit fractious . . .

being grey, she's heard all the jokes about being off-colour, so we'll not go there.

The vet felt about and declared a lump on the cat's bladder. Not good. I left her in for further tests. After more consultation, she was rushed into surgery, and . . . by the time I called a few hours later . . . was having the equivalent of a cat cup of tea and toast in recovery while her tissue samples were winging their way to a laboratory. No waiting on trolleys for that patient. It's entirely shameful that I could get that sort of service for my cat but would be unlikely to get it for my mother with such speed under the public human health system.

So, in order not to clog up the system, I have decided to take myself out of it. I have approached my vet and put it to him that I am merely a Simian-type creature. I am, basically, a (largely) hairless monkey. So, if I were to present myself with an illness, it would be too much to get The Husband to put me in a cage and carry me over. He couldn't manage getting me over the threshold a decade ago when there was a lot less of me, so I will have to present myself . . . then the vet should treat me as he would a chimpanzee, say. I'm not going to tell you that the man leapt at the idea, but he is thinking about it. I have at least intrigued him. Which is good for me because I don't drive and won't make it to Kilkenny in the middle of the night from Dublin, should I need to, as Bus Eireann's foxily numbered 007 route does not run in those wee small hours.

Of course, far better would be if the politicians and hospital managers actually got their fingers out and solved the crisis. I'll be remembering this when election time comes round.

In the meantime, I'm doing my bit.

Are you doing yours?