Not only are developers ruining London for the people who actually live here, the development of HS2 is going to destroy some of Britain's most idyllic countryside, all for a train line that many will not be able to afford to travel on.
If I could have things any other way, I would not choose to spend so much time planning my meals, working out my feelings to avoid potential anxiety attacks later on in the day, and all the money I and my parents have spent on therapy over the years.
Funding is a major issue. We know that specialist nurses save money - fewer patients turn up in the consultant's clinic, at A&E, or get admitted to hospital. Waiting times are reduced and preventable problems are addressed.
Finally, I figured out the reason for the disturbance. It was none other than Aneurin Bevan, the architect of the National Health Service, spinning in his grave. Yes, I was watching Channel 4's NHS: £2 Billion a Week & Counting.
The Cancer Drugs Fund gave me access to the drugs I needed to shrink my tumour and enabled a team of highly skilled and courageous surgeons to prolong my life not just for a few months but for many years... So how do you think I felt when I discovered that the drug that saved by life would, along with a number of other drugs and treatments, no longer be available to cancer patients?
It is clear that researching rare conditions often leads to greater insights about other conditions with similar characteristics - this helps develop more targeted treatments, and move away from a 'one size fits all' approach to medicine.
Should care for "self-inflicted" alcohol, drug, smoking and obesity problems be funded by the NHS? Should cosmetic surgery in any form be available free of charge? Should the most expensive new cancer drugs be funded, even though they only benefit a tiny handful of the population and cost millions?
With the greatest of respect, TV fiction is like other fiction types. It is escapism. It suspends the boundaries of reality. That is, after all the only possible reason the writers on Eastenders get away with entire families living in large houses in London, whilst earning no money for themselves.
The yearly discourse of winter NHS strains has reached the public ear. What's more, people can distinguish between the NHS generally, which they know to offer the highest quality and the NHS in winter, where there is more concern.
If the NHS really is a national treasure then let's treasure it and that means treasuring and supporting those who are its lifeblood, not merely focusing on its relationship with the Treasury.
There is little doubt that GPs have the skills and position within their communities to fulfil a variety of different functions. As costs rise, society must consider how it wants to use and pay for such a scarce resource.
In the US, there are even bandages going into production that tell you how a wound is healing - not to mention tablets with in-built sensors that can relay key information about your body right from the front lining of the stomach, so to speak.
It should come as no surprise, that the existing shortage of GPs is due to become extreme. Many already close to retirement age are deciding to retire early. Others are emigrating, to the Middle East and Australia. Saddest of all, practices are closing altogether as they become unviable.
I'm not saying it is simple. But it is what is needed and, in my view, it is the fastest way to making sure joined-up care becomes a reality and doesn't remain a theoretical aspiration.
Leave the politicians to pluck millions from thin air. Let everyone else play the predictor game. We doctors are far too canny to join in. We know that whatever happens, the only thing that we can predict will be that Monday morning surgeries will always be a nightmare.
Like hundreds of thousands of care staff across the country, I do my job well. Better than well. As with so many of my colleagues, I am always going beyond the call of duty, often in ways that no one would ever know. Covert filming might get me the credit for all those little acts of kindness that no one saw. What hurts more than the filming itself is the cynical assumption that I needed filming.