I’m not a doctor, medical professional, scientist, or anything remotely related to pandemic thought leadership. I’m not a podcaster, wellbeing guru, mummy blogger, or other too loud self-proclaimed “expert”. I’m just somebody who had Omicron behind door 17 on my advent calendar.
My flatmate tested positive that week, so I’d been minimising outside contact while daily rapid testing, cleaning, and leaving the windows open despite the 5°C chill. My streak of negative tests ended, and my follow up PCR test was positive too.
Day one started with a sore throat and fever, and I had to lay “prone” to try sleep, or my breathing would get shallow and hurt. I later found that sucking on a menthol lozenge appeased my sinuses long enough for me to fall asleep.
The next day I woke up drenched in sweat, with severely blocked ears, a headache, and extreme dizziness. I took paracetamol and tried to eat, despite having no appetite or energy to cook.
I knew I had Omicron, as my sense of taste and smell hadn’t disappeared - a key symptom of other variants. I may have kept my taste, but another Omicron symptom had appeared – a stomach that couldn’t hold anything in. I’ll spare further details.
I drank a lot of fluids, including crushing garlic cloves and peels and putting them into hot water. My sinuses appreciated it, alongside twice daily saline rinses. Ginger and turmeric tea provided a soothing burn for my throat, and Berocca gave me a slight boost. I tried to indulge in a fizzy drink but the bubbles hurt my throat, which now felt strangely achy as opposed to just sore.
The next week was a blur of brain fog, loss of hearing and appetite, a phlegmy throat and snotty nose, and a horrific battle of both insomnia and extreme exhaustion. Sleeping was disrupted by coughing, sneezing, or rolling onto my back and not breathing properly.
We were stocked up. We had tissues, cleaning products, painkillers, throat lozenges, and eucalyptus oil for the steam diffuser. For food, the full pantry was zero help - cooking is impossible when you get dizzy from standing up.
Christmas and Brexit supply chain issues meant supermarkets were running beyond capacity with little stock. It took me three days to order - my brain fog worsened by the fact that I couldn’t look at a screen for too long.
I paid for an Asian supermarket next day delivery of instant noodles, packet soups, fresh ginger and garlic, chilli pastes, stock cubes, kimchi, seaweed, fruit juice, frozen vegetables, tofu, dried mushrooms – all the quick cook things offering both comfort and health. I already had Tiger Balm, which I was liberally applying to my chest and aching muscles.
I was sent an antibody test, which I had to return ASAP. The 200m walk to the postbox was unbearable. I was out of breath, dizzy, and could feel my lungs seizing up inhaling cold air (even filtered through my double mask). I came home a sweaty mess 15 minutes later and jumped in the shower – another task that now induced dizziness and exhaustion.
My friend, one day ahead of me in Omicron, told me about feeling better after a day of vomiting, migraine, and worsened fever.
My fever spiked, a migraine set in, and I fell asleep that afternoon - waking up three hours later drenched in sweat and feeling exactly what she’d described. My sore throat disappeared, and I managed to turn on the TV – just in time for Christmas Day.
I was worried about long-term COVID effects, and towards Day 10 I could do five minutes of yoga and wander around the house – a gift when period cramps joined the party.
A month later, I still have a ticklish throat, my brain and body are exhausted, and my breathing is shallow.
Friends qualified in medicine and nutrition told me to keep taking vitamins to minimise long COVID, and to slowly increase my physical activity. I’m taking Vitamin C, D, K2, probiotics, Iron, Zinc, multivitamins, and eating as many fruits and vegetables as I can. I’m not just trying to rebuild my immunity and white blood cell count - when I forget, my energy drops and mental fatigue sets in.
My flat is stocked up, because getting it once doesn’t exempt me from future variants – especially while the vaccine inequity that causes variants continues.
Being triple jabbed meant I could look after myself, which is the point of vaccinating - so I wouldn’t be one of the 678,091 of UK people hospitalised, or the 5.5 million dead worldwide.
The lazy framing of Omicron as “mild” neglects that it’s mild for the vaccinated in comparison to hospitalisation or death – something epidemiologists and doctors were ignored for pointing out.
Amongst Aotearoa’s plans for Omicron must be Government prioritising of the most vulnerable communities – tangata whenua, Pasifika, disability, immunocompromised, refugee and asylum seekers, and the neighbouring countries impacted by the Crown’s colonial atrocities.
There’s no getting out of a pandemic as an individual – community solutions and care are the only way forward.
ANNY'S OMICRON TO DO LIST (shared via Instagram)
