I know that there is a lot of reporting about the new Covid strains, the latest outbreak, but they’re all kind of ten-thousand-foot stories. But here at Oblivioni, we all went out and got Covid on purpose, just so we could write about it from the first-person perspective and better inform you, our Reader. And since my critically acclaimed thirtover novels were put out of print by my publisher, the once-great Chickadee Prince Books, I have time on my hands.
No, I didn’t actually infect myself so I could write about it.
It just happens, and it will happen to us all again and again and again; Covid will become the new flu, which hits us when it hits us.
But flus are predictable; one year they’re pretty bad, the next year they’re mild, but they’re always the flu, you know what to expect.
But while Covid will become the new flu in terms of its mutations, its James-Bond-like inevitable sequels, the frequent unpleasant vaccinations, it is different from the flu in its persistent innovating. This summer’s Covid variant, adorably called FLiRT (though it should have been called FLiRT!, to avoid confusion with the Hal Hartley movie) is as different from JN.1 as Daniel Craig is from Pierce Brosnan.
By the way, if FLiRT were a movie instead of a horrible disease, this is what the movie poster would look like.
The new surprise, which still afflicts only a small minority of FLiRT sufferers, is a new FLiRT symptom that I will call the bug crawl.
In the depths of all the “normal” Covid symptoms (intense congestion, annoying cough, fever, malaise) you suddenly feel an insect burrow into your ear, wander around for a while, chew noisily, then sting your eardrum. Which makes you scream.
Ear pain and related issues such as tinnitus, hearing loss or vertigo have been reported with earlier Covid, but these symptoms have become more noticeable, and more frequently reported, with the FLiRT variants compared to earlier strains. This is apparently due to the different ways newer variants affect the respiratory system and the inner ear, infecting and inflaming inner ear cells and nerves, potentially leading to more congestion, fluid buildup and sudden pressure changes, which cause related ear discomfort, and even unusual neurological and sensory symptoms, such as the feeling of something moving or burrowing in the ear. The brain isn’t used to this, and it misinterprets what’s happening.
So remember, if and when this happens to you, it’s not really an insect burrowing into your brain. That’s the good news. It just feels like one, which is the bad news.
One other thing about this: if Donald Trump wins the election and appoints Robert Kennedy Jr. as Secretary of Health and Human Services, say goodbye to future vaccines. The next Covid will run roughshod over us.
^^^
Alon Preiss, who wrote this column, is the author of two highly acclaimed novels in a loosely linked trilogy, In Love with Alice and Flash of Blue Sky, both of which were published by Chickadee Prince Books but are now out of print. The books are still available, used, on the web. He receives no money if you buy one, but he would like you to buy one. His new novel, He Knew Her Once / Long Ago, was under contract with Chickadee Prince Books, but after languishing for years, the book has now been canceled. It will not be published until after his death, when he will be rediscovered as an overlooked genius.
Image by Kalyee Srithnam.