Open Letter to Prime Minister Starmer

This letter was meant for Keir Starmer and his government, but Downing Street’s 1,000-character limit silenced me. So I’m sharing it publicly because my story isn’t unique.

For years, I believed in the promise of Britain: work hard, pay your taxes, and if for some reason you were to fall due to illness or even bad luck, there was a safety net to catch you. Then, Long COVID left me housebound, jobless, suicidal, and fighting a system that treats the vulnerable as collateral damage.

This isn’t just about me. It’s about every person dismissed by the NHS, strangled by benefits bureaucracy, or gaslit into believing their suffering is “not urgent enough.” It’s about the lie that we live in a compassionate society.

If you’ve ever feared illness, poverty, or being failed by those in power, this is your story too. Share it. Shout it. Demand better.

Dear Prime Minister Starmer,

My name is Reece Dyer, a 35-year-old from Reading. Over 3 years ago, I became seriously ill and was eventually diagnosed with Long COVID. Since then, I have gone from being a financially independent professional to someone fighting for basic support, only to be failed at every turn by the systems designed to protect people like me. I am writing to you out of sheer desperation, as I have nowhere else to turn.

How I’ve Been Failed:

1. The NHS

My GP practice, like so many others, has been hollowed out by underfunding and post-pandemic strain. Doctors are forced to prioritise speed over care, a reality made brutally clear when I was dismissed with the words, “It won’t kill you, what more do you want?” during repeated phone calls for debilitating Long COVID symptoms. It was over a year before I had an in-person appointment with a doctor where they physically examined me. After months of many repeats of the same inconclusive tests and dead ends, I paid out of my own pocket for private consultations just to secure a diagnosis. Only the threat of legal action spurred my GP to refer me to specialists, a referral that should have been routine.

I was simultaneously referred to four services:

• Pain Clinic: More about this later

• Cardiology: Tests were completed quickly, but the results took 12 months to reach me.

• Neurology: Two years on, I’ve heard nothing, a terrifying silence for someone with neurological symptoms.

• Mental Health Support: My therapist openly admits the service cannot meet my needs, yet alternatives don’t exist unless I pay privately.

This is not care, it’s neglect dressed as policy.

I now attend the Berkshire Pain Clinic, but appointments, originally every three months, have been stretched to five due to staff shortages. I was even discharged by a doctor when they left the practice; I guess they did not want to do the paperwork. This is not the NHS I once trusted. There have been numerous small incidents with the NHS which I can cover if needed, such as being sent another patient's faecal matter test instead of an empty sample container. You can read it in the newspaper here: GP surgery gives Reading man used sample kit containing faeces.

This is the reality for patients today: dehumanised by bureaucracy, gaslit by under-resourced staff, and left to pray their condition isn’t fatal while waiting for a system to catch up. The funny thing is, with all this failure, I’m scared daily that they messed up my diagnosis, and I'm just sitting here getting sicker with something worse or what I have might be easily fixed, both horrifying outcomes at this point. 

2. Benefits System

Unable to work, I applied for Personal Independence Payment (PIP) a year ago. My claim was repeatedly sabotaged by assessors who failed to document my condition accurately, forcing me into a tribunal backlog with no resolution in sight. How can a system claim to support vulnerable people while trapping them in endless bureaucracy?

Universal Credit offered me less than £10 a month, a derisory sum that wouldn’t cover the bus fare to their mandatory assessments. Now, with further cuts announced, I face impossible choices.

You need people to “return to work,” and I want nothing more. With flexibility, I could manage possibly 2 days a week, but my symptoms (nerve pain, brain fog, and unpredictable fatigue) make even this unreliable. How do these cuts incentivise employers to accommodate fluctuating disabilities like mine? The House of Lords or Parliament may tolerate irregular attendance, but ordinary jobs demand dependability I cannot guarantee.

Cuts don’t create flexibility; they deepen despair. If the goal is to “get people back to work,” why dismantle the very support that could make this possible?

3. My Local MP

I reached out to my MP, Yuan Yang, who expressed concern during her campaign. Yet in office, she has been unable to help. Even her staff acknowledged the system’s failures, but sympathy doesn’t pay my bills or restore my health. 

A Betrayal of the Social Contract

I’ve paid taxes my entire working life, believing that society would support me if I fell ill. Instead, I’ve learned that playing by the rules means nothing. Those who exploit the system thrive, while people like me, who contributed, are left to rot.

Prime Minister, I am not asking for charity. I am asking for the dignity and support this country promises its citizens. At what point will I be helped? When I’m homeless? When I’m driven to crisis? By what I’ve heard from other disabled people, even this is not enough. 

You inherited a broken system, but you now have the power and the moral duty to fix it. I urge you not to govern like your predecessors. See us as human beings, not statistics. I want to work again, but I cannot do so without proper healthcare and financial stability.

Time is running out for me, and for thousands like me. Please act before it’s too late.

Yours sincerely,

Reece Dyer