Published at 09:48, Friday, 06 November 2009

SO how are you coping with swine flu?

Having mocked the national panic that the arrival of the piggy plague induced earlier in the year, my scorn has come back to haunt me.

Just last week, my eldest son, Hextol Major, came for a visit to show off his newly acquired alsatian puppy.

Within minutes, he had been sent off to bed by Mrs Hextol, in full flutter mode at his hot sweats, shivers and spluttering visits to the smallest room.

While she plied him with hot soup and thinly cut toast soldiers, and I chased after the puppy with a kitchen roll and a nose peg, it became clear medical assistance was required.

“Nip down to the chemists for some of that Tamiflu stuff,” ordered Mrs Hextol – would that it were so simple!

It was Saturday, so the doctors’ surgery was closed and I had to rely on the dreaded out of hours service.

I developed earache and a sore finger as I repeatedly pressed one, two and three to get to the right recorded message.

Then I had to write down a 12-digit code number to confirm Hextol Major actually qualified for a dose of the magic medicine.

Then came the rub; I couldn’t actually get it in Bellingham, nor even in Hexham.

I was given a choice of travelling either to Blyth, or the back streets of Byker to pick up the elixir.

And I couldn’t just turn up either.

In order to get the medicine, I not only had to bring personal identification, but also identification of the patient!

Have you ever tried rummaging through drawers and cupboards searching for documents, while a puppy is pulling fiercely at your socks, and weeing on the floor at the same time?

Documentation located, I set off, and got as far as Wark when my mobile shrilled.

“Have you got any money to pay for the prescription?” asked Mrs Hextol, and I realised I had neither cash nor wallet on me.

A quick slam into reverse was called for.

And I burned rubber all the way back to Bellingham, conscious of the plaintive cough coping from up the stairs.

Stocked with wallet and cash, I shot off again, not entirely sure where Byker was, but an hour later, I was pulling into the Morrison’s car park in that fair suburb of Newcastle with its famous Wall.

I wandered hopefully along the main street, and lo and behold, saw a sign indicating this was the place to go for pandemic flu relief.

I half expected a cross on the door, and the stench of rotting corpses, but it was all very clean and clinical.

The pleasant girl on the desk asked me for my number, and when I blushingly admitted I was happily married, actually, I realised from the look of horror on her face that she meant the 12-digit number I had been given what seemed like days earlier.

Fortunately, Mrs Hextol had written it down, and I was able to hand it over, along with my passport and Hextol Major’s driving licence.

She studied all three with elaborate care, before handing me a sheaf of leaflets, lots of advice – and finally, a precious box of the life-saving capsules.

I shot back to the car – and then realised I had not paid for the damn things.

Fearing pursuit by the NHS hit squad, I hot-footed it back up the street, and burst back into the medical centre, proffering a £10 note.

The receptionist said: “Err, you don’t have to pay for the Tamiflu, sir ... it’s free.”

Once more I retired in confusion, wondering why all this elaborate security has been required actually to give something away.

Would it not have been easier just to despatch a big box of Tamiflu to every chemists’ shop and doctors’ surgery on the land, rather than expecting people to make 80-mile round journeys. As it happened, it was no problem for me, but what if I have been a young single parent, or a pensioner living alone?

When I got back, Hextol Major was asleep, dosed up on rum and Anadin, and Mrs Hextol was protecting the dangerously wobbly Hextol Hound from the boisterous attentions of the puppy, which was determined to swing from her tail.

“What’s taken you so long?” she demanded.

“These dogs need taking out, and you’ve got three lots of puppy muck to clean up.”

Published by http://www.hexhamcourant.co.uk