All Greek to me

What to do about omicron, a COVID-19 variant that is monstrously more infectious than delta, its predecessor, yet somewhat milder in symptoms? I have no idea.

As the recent target of this slippery foe’s unwanted advances, I can tell you this: Don’t catch it.

After countless weeks of skyrocketing case numbers, new data shows sharp declines over the past week. The omicron surge, like you-know-who’s hairline, is receding.

Omicron. Sounds like an underground progressive metal band, around since 2014, based in Hong Kong. Which, it is. (Truly. I don’t always make stuff up.) Says the quartet’s guitarist Li Heng Chan in Rolling Stone: “Whether for the right or wrong reasons, we’ve been getting chicks. It’s been a lot to process.” Talk about a macabre coincidence.

Most people can’t spell it or pronounce it, let alone understand it. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) says it’s “a variant of SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19.”

It is named after the 15^th letter of the Greek alphabet. You know, like alpha, beta, gamma … omicron. Hard to believe there were 14 new variants before omicron. (I won’t list them. You’re welcome.)

Truth be told, I’m not interested in learning all 24 Greek letters, even though they are widely used in science, math and technology. And with all due respect to my handsome Cypriot friend Alex, even the Greek system has its pitfalls. 

Case in point: In late November 2021, when this new, highly mutated variant was discovered in Botswana, the next Greek letter in line to be used was “nu.” But the World Health Organization (WHO) decided a homophone for “new” would be way too confusing, according to Washington Post reports.

Picture this Abbott & Costello exchange on the local news:

“So, Bud, I understand we have a new COVID-19 variant?”

“Thanks, Lou. Yes, it’s nu.”

“Yes, Bud, we know it’s new. But what’s it called?”

“It’s nu, Lou. I just told you.”

I could go on until you beg me for a commercial break, but you get the idea. So, they chose omicron.

WHO knew. (See what I did there?)

During my current bout, I have had some vivid dreams.

In one, my immune system is so jacked up with antibodies that I feel like a superhero. They call this “hybrid immunity.”

Since I’m fully vaccinated and boosted, infectious disease experts say it will help ensure milder omicron symptoms and keep me out of the hospital. Now I’ve got triple protection!

Maybe I’ll start a social club: “Fully vaccinated, boosted and infected? Join me! Close talkers welcome.”

At first, I blamed the dreams on my fever, isolation and absurd consumption of Ricola drops. Or my nightly hot toddy, which appears on a tray outside my bedroom door at 8:30 sharp.

Before turning in, I sip a cup of decaf green tea with honey and a shot of Basil Hayden bourbon whiskey. All in the name of science.

In another dream, I don’t fare as well. In fact, I die. As in, “D-E-D.” (That one’s for our friend Karen and her great-niece, Aubrey.)

COVID-19 has caused more than 865,000 deaths in the United States. As of yesterday, 209 million Americans were fully vaccinated. That’s about 64%. Not good enough. Vaccination is the key to kicking COVID’s insidious ass and its future mutant variants. I wish more people understood that.

Sadly, the growing list of those we have lost includes more souls Rebecca and I knew personally: William Brinson, 67 (April 10, 2020), Dr. Tom Klapp, 66 (Dec. 14, 2020) and Ivan Prosper, 50 (Dec. 8, 2021).

Reports show COVID-19 claimed the life of its first victim in early 2020. I’ve often wondered who that person was. Haven’t seen much written about it. So, I did some digging.

For more than a year, a San Jose woman named Patricia Dowd who died on Feb. 6, 2020, was considered the nation’s first COVID-19 death. About a month before that, the WHO first reported a “novel coronavirus” was responsible for the outbreak in Wuhan, China, where the pandemic began.

Two years ago. Seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it?

But Dowd wasn’t the first. On Sept. 1, 2021, a woman in Kansas discovered the true cause of her mother’s death, effectively rewriting the timeline of when this unrelenting pandemic had reached the United States.

Lovell “Cookie” Brown was a 78-year-old grandmother of nine and devout Jehova’s Witness from Leavenworth, Kansas. She died on Jan. 9, 2020. Brown’s original death certificate listed only stroke and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) as causes of death.

Not entirely true. Turns out, Brown’s ICU physician amended her death certificate in May 2021, to include “COVID-19 pneumonia” as one of the causes, according to the San Jose Mercury News.

No explanation. No call to her family. No letter from officials.

Indeed, Brown had some “pre-existing” medical conditions: diabetes and lung cancer. But her symptoms back in early 2020 are all-too familiar now: splitting headache, raspy cough, fever, diarrhea, body aches and loss of taste. Brown’s death is now included in the CDC’s official record of U.S.-COVID deaths.

Lovell “Cookie” Brown was the first. Rest in power, Mrs. Brown.

Back to my dream. I call it “Strangers in the Night.” Two guys are smoking and shooting the breeze outside a bar.

“So, I heard that heart blogger chick kicked the bucket.”

“Yeah, dude. It was COVID. That new omicron variant.”

“Huh. Bless her heart.”

“Really, dude? It’s a damn shame. She was way too young. Such a wonderful person. And funny.”

“Funny how?”

“Never mind, dude.”

“Did she have any pre-existing conditions?”

“You mean like diabetes? Two heart surgeries, dude, but nothing chronic. She was overweight but became a devoted NoomNerd and lost 12 pounds.”

“So, she was morbidly obese?”

“Dude, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, what was her BMI?”

“No idea, dude. What’s yours?”

“None of your business. How’d she get omicron anyway?”

“Well, dude, they’re not certain. She had lunch at Hamlin Pub a few days before symptoms started. The only time she wasn’t masked was while eating.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t omicron that killed her. It was the Beef Slider Special for $7.99! I knew it!”

“Dude, you’re an idiot.”

***

January 25, 2022. It’s been 10 full days since the onset of my symptoms.

I’m out of self-isolation. I’m feeling more like myself. It’s good not to be D-E-D.

Get those shots, dudes and dudettes. Cheat the reaper.