Isn’t it funny how when faced with a drama or crisis we develop super human strength? New energy. Renewed drive.

For the past two nights the bear literally hasn’t slept, so after a quick power nap at 6am I woke feeling shattered. Absolutely and miserably dog tired.

Then husband called from his early shift at work with the news. ‘Babe a few other people are off with swine flu, I think that’s why I feel so rotten, and probably why the bear is miserable too’.

I literally sprang out of bed. My heavy eyelids vanished. My aching bones subsided and suddenly this spritely person I didn’t recognise appeared. Why is it that when we’re needed we go into overdrive?

I don’t like a crisis. It’s not that. It’s just that I think women in particular thrive when someone is depending on them. Especially in the case of a husband and baby struck down with swine flu.

So I energetically picked up the phone to the national pandemic helpline service. Help really is not the right word – when I said I didn’t know if Mr Dad was urinating more often she said ‘does he need to pee a lot’ and I had to explain that I understood the question, it was just that he was at work and I wasn’t sure.

After a long series of yes and no answers they were both diagnosed with swine flu and I was given a reference number for each of them in order to get Tamiflu. I think these are actually more like secret codes, as she read them out including the papa uniform echo bits and I felt more like a spy than a caring mother.

I whisked the bear off to the GP on their recommendation, just to get him checked out, tweeting my updates as I went. I stealthily crept into the ‘little waiting room’ at the back on doctors orders so as not to spread the disease. Mission accomplished.

All clear there and on to the next town to collect the drugs. Unfortunately I arrived without required ID for all sick parties. After being asked twice by the pharmacist if I wanted to do my shopping while she checked if I could take the tablets and tried to be polite and explain that I had a sick family (I managed not to say dying, although I felt I needed some extra clout at this point) and no I didn’t want to do any shopping.

Drug pick up refused, I set back on the 15 minute journey home, collected passports to try again once more. I returned, determined to complete my mission – and get the phrase ‘I doubt you’ll be getting employee of the year’ into my departure this time. After another ‘kind’ offer to do some shopping I finally got the prescriptions, and left (not without picking up a complaint form from customer services…yet to decide if I actually have anything to complain about ….really, but I felt short changed for my added travel time, and the customer service lady even adopted my mission like tactics and covertly ran out to the car and gave me the pharmacists name!).

In my hast I forgot the shopping I did need. I didn’t NEED shopping, just some cocodamol at Mr Dads request. So I went to another supermarket not wanting to undo my theatrical exit, which after bundling my germ ridden son into another trolley appeared not to have a pharmacy. Last time I go to the next town I tell you that.

Back to the car, and the third supermarket fortunuately had all supplies needed. Ready to return home. Thank god. On exiting third supermarket, beardy man on RSPB stand says brightly ‘do you like wildlife madam?’. Not today I shrilled loudly back at him.

I’m really sorry nice bird man, please don’t take it personally, I was busy on operation trotter. It’s not your fault, it’s not as though my family have bird flu after all…