Your Nose Knows

I’ve been a bit of a downer lately, and for that I apologize. So here are some entertaining things to help boost things up.
I have this smell that I seem to always have in my nose and mouth. It’s not pleasant, per se, but neither is it awful. I get used to it. Depending on the place I’m in and the sort of air around me and my stress level, it is stronger or weaker. At first, I thought it was the taste and smell of my prescription. It has that sort of odd chalky bitterness to it. But that didn’t seem to quite get it. Today it came to me. It reminds of the smell of a bit of memory. One time my mom and I were making our usual coffee cakes, and something just seemed off about it. When we took them out, they smelled way different than normal. We smelled everything we could to figure it out, and it finally came to us. The graham crackers we had used had turned rancid in their cardboard containers. We threw the lot away, obviously, but that smell… Ugh, that was awful.
So yeah, this kind of smells like that. But it’s not nearly that bad. Still, it’s nice to tie it to something. Maybe my brain is turning rancid and that is why I smell and taste it. That would be unfortunate. I had hoped my brain would smell better than that.
Maybe it does. Every brain I’ve ever smelled just smells like formaldehyde, so that doesn’t count.
ANYWAY…
I’ve been curious as to what I can and cannot taste like this. But I’m hesitant to make meals or buy many groceries just to try things. What if I don’t like it and don’t want to eat it and it all goes to waste? So I have been trying things here and there, and can give you a pretty good run-down of the fast food options in Morgantown when you can’t smell and taste is way off. Here you go:
-       Arby’s: roast beef sandwiches have a meaty hint, but it’s more textural than flavor. Curly fries don’t have a strong enough flavor to present themselves to me. Milkshakes are almost as good by texture as they are by taste, so that was fun to know.
-       Wendy’s: Excellent fries. No doubt due to their saltiness, but they were also crisp and had the teeniest bit of crunch. Not like a burned crisp or crunch, but just not overcooked. Burgers weren’t much to discuss, but the Frosty’s were just as good without flavor.
-       Chick-fil-a: Sorry to say it, but neither the chicken nor the fries had a flavor strong enough to pick up. The fruit cup was the only thing I could taste.
-       Burger King: So-so, all told. Nothing too spectacular.
-       McDonald’s: Shockingly enough, this place had the only burgers that had any taste at all. No doubt it’s because of the sheer amount of sodium in them, but I’m not going to complain about that now. Fries weren’t much to write home about, and the shake was too thin to be particularly enjoyable.
-       Subway: Given the tastelessness of lettuce, I can’t even bear the texture these days, and the bread overwhelms the subtle sandwich flavors. However – they have a new thing. The Flatizza. A flatbread pizza. And I’ve wondered about pizza lately. I knew I could get a hint of marinara, thanks to the flavors and acidity, but pizza? Thankfully, thanks to the sheer amount of veggies I put on mine, it was quite good. What it tasted like, I don’t know. But it was close.
-       Sonic: This was today’s adventure. I got the Chicago style hot dog, and there was a lot of texture there. Salt from the hot dog, pickle, mustard, etc. Bite from the relish and the onions, and the mustard. It was great. The tater tots were so-so. Warm and buttery, but not much flavor. Still, there was something.
Still have a few other places to try, so stay tuned.
I’ve been asked if my nose is still sensitive like regular noses are. I’d have to say yes. I think I can detect changes in the air, but flavors or actual sense of it, I can’t pick up.  I still get runny noses. I get sinus headaches [which is sooooo weird when you can’t smell, though I can’t tell why]. When the weather changed, I got a stuffy nose and achy sinuses, just like I used to and just like regular people. But on the flip side, I can’t tell when there is a powerful scent in the air, no matter what it is. I've missed dry erase markers, alcohol, fresh paint, and chlorine. I have yet to smell warm, fresh food no matter what it is. I missed the smell of bleach at work today. Had no idea the air was anything except that bitter chalky taste I have all the time.
So…. I don’t know? We’ll call it To Be Determined.
Also.  A friend asked me for my opinion on this article: http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2014/03/20/291954994/never-mind-eyesight-your-nose-knows-much-more
Go on and read it. It's really cool, actually. Go ahead. I'll wait.

I found this very interesting, especially considering how I now experience things. I will acknowledge that there is a lot more to smell than anyone knows who has not gone without it. It certainly is the most unknown of the senses, and we severely underestimate it. But I can’t say anything against sight, having never had to go without it. Being without smell has started to sharpen my other senses, at least in my mind, so I think I see more. Not better, per se, but I am paying more attention. I focus more and see things that I didn’t before. But I think we do see them, we just do not acknowledge that we see them.
I know I didn’t really give an opinion. But who am I to say that smell is greater than sight? Ask a blind man what they think, and they might say smell has shown them more than they thought, but they miss their sight. Ask someone with anosmia what they think, and they might say there is more to the world than smell, but they miss smell all the same.
I miss smelling. But it’s not the end of the world. Far, far from it. On the contrary, the world is all-new to me. I would not wish anyone to see the world while missing one of the senses we were given to experience it. But in doing so myself, I find that I appreciate everything more.
Could it be worse? Absolutely it could. Could it be better? Sure. But what is wrong with appreciating the world more? Seeing the world differently? Discovering just how beautiful the world and life is, and the magic – the miracle – that it is to have what we do, and to experience it the way we do?
That is pretty dang amazing, if you think about it. When you understand that--really understand--it's even more amazing.

High: I’m going with pizza. That was the closest I’ve come to normal yet.
Low: “The smell” has been really strong in the last few days. Everything takes on its flavor in one form or another. And it gives me a headache. I’d like to wash my mouth and nose and sinuses with Listerine, but I’m not that stupid. Here’s hoping it fades. Or I get used to it. One way or the other, I'd be content.
High: Apparently the garbage that collects at the end of our hall [since we’re so far from the dumpster] has been really rank lately. Didn’t know I was living in a stink hole, so I’ve been thinking home was just as pleasant as ever. Amazing how perception changes one’s view…

I’ve been told by a friend and supervisor to try essential oils, to see if I can smell any of those. I have no experience with those or anything like them. Anyone else think it might make a difference? Granted, he’s no expert or scientist. Just a fellow worker in health and manual therapy, and we share an interest in the power of aromatherapy. But it was an interesting idea.
I wonder if they’ve made anything that smells like cooking bacon….

Roller Coasters and Life

Let’s talk about something that I haven’t really touched on yet. I’m not quite sure how this will go, and maybe I shouldn’t even be talking about it, but it’s my experience of late, so here we go.
I had no idea how tied to emotion smell was.
It doesn’t seem like a connection that would be made easily. After all, what we see and hear and touch brings us so much emotion, makes us feel so much. No one ever really remembers that smell is important. That smells give us emotions too. That smell is powerful.
It’s taken me a bit of time of living and dealing with this to get here, but now that I am, I can tell you this: it is an emotional roller coaster.
It’s hard to put into words, and I’m not sure I could without sounding dramatic, so I won’t even try. Everything about this is hard to explain, and probably even harder to understand without experiencing it yourself, so kudos to you for even reading this.
I don’t know how to “deal” with this besides the way that I am. There is no “National Organization for the Smelling Impaired”. We don’t get special treatment plans or tools for adapting or privileged parking or have any sort of outward sign of what we live with. And honestly, we don’t need one. We can do everything we could do before. It’s just…different.
Eating is stressful. If food is placed in front of me and I don’t have a choice, I can eat it. I can make it work. Might not eat a lot of it because appetite is pretty much a thing of craving and satisfaction, which I don’t really have anymore, but I make do. But if I have to decide what I am going to eat? Stressful and maddening and aggravating, and ultimately, disappointing. Because when we have a choice about it, we want something that will taste good. We want something that we like. Something we crave.
When nothing you can eat will give that to you, will fill you, will satisfy you, you don’t want to eat anything at all. Don’t freak out on me, I do eat, I promise. But what used to be the easiest thing in the world [far too easy, if you’re a scale-watcher] is now one of the hardest. It’s like those times when you’re starving but nothing sounds good and you don’t know what you want to eat and you ask just about everybody you can what you should eat just so you don’t have to think about it anymore and eventually you just settle on something because “maybe this will do the trick”.
Except I always hope I’ll taste it. Not even that, because sometimes I can taste something. I hope it will taste like I remember.
I still look for the end goal.
Nothing wrong with that, per se, but it does make living in the now pretty hard. Because right now, the end is not here. And I don’t know when it is going to be. And I start to wonder if actively hoping for the old normal, or even a hint of it, is keeping me from accepting and embracing this “new normal”.
So apparently, I’m still kicking and screaming and fighting this. And that’s okay. Because He asked me at the very beginning of this roller coaster if I trust him. I told Him I did. He’s a very intelligent being, because He asked me again. “Do you trust me?” I gave it the careful consideration it deserved, then I honestly replied, “Yes. I trust You.” I felt a small burst of warmth that told me He was pleased with that reply. Then one phrase entered my mind and it has been repeating every day, multiple times, ever since: “THEN TRUST ME.”

So I have hard days. So I have hard hours. So sometimes I can’t always smile and pretend that this is fun, that I’m fine, that this isn’t so bad. Sometimes I can. Sometimes it isn’t so bad. Sometimes I am fine. It’s all okay. Because I trust Him, and He knows that this is hard. He knows that I’m doing the best that I can. He knows that I know He is there. That I’m not doing this on my own, in spite of how it feels sometimes. And all I can do is keep trusting Him. Because there is a reason why I have to do this. What it is, what I am supposed to learn, I don’t know yet. Maybe I won’t for a long time. But I’m going to do the best I can to learn it, to become whoever I am supposed to, and to give back whatever I gain because of this experience.

It’s hard. It sucks sometimes. I hurt sometimes. I shut down sometimes. But I’ll get there. We all will. One step at a time, one day at a time, one trial at a time. We’ll get there.
High: My sweet friend Adriana made me quinoa last night. “You’ve never had it, so you don’t know what it’s supposed to taste like, so it can taste however you want!” Turns out that texturally, it was really kind of fun to eat. Who knew?
Low: I was watching construction work happening in a field by where I work. I couldn’t remember how dirt smelled. It seems weird, I know, I never actively smelled dirt before. But dirt and overturning of dirt and construction, they all have smells. And I couldn’t tell you what it is. I don’t remember what dirt smells like. And that was sad.

High: In my reading and research and conversations lately, I’ve been told that the whole “emotional” aspect of this is normal, and some people have it worse. The book I quoted last time, “Season To Taste”, had so many insights and recollections that echoed my exact thoughts and emotions. It is such a relief to find that my reactions, my feelings, my struggles, have all been experienced by others with this same challenge. Someone else knows exactly what this is like. Doesn’t matter if I don’t know them or ever meet them. They’ve been here. They know. And they got through it.

Life is a beautiful thing. The world is a beautiful medley of senses and experiences and there are layers upon layers of amazing parts to live and witness and embrace. Don’t waste it. Find it all. See the magic of life unfold for you when it does.

It is amazing.

Magic In The Air

This may seem like a stretch for some of you, but I hope you trust me enough to go with it for a minute while I try to explain what the heck is going on in my head these days.

Smell is a language. A smell can tell you something that nothing else can. The scent of sweat tells you of heat or activity. The scent of laundry detergent brings a feeling of warmth and cleanliness. The scent of chocolate chip cookies takes you home to Mom and makes you thirsty for milk. The scent of burning leaves makes you feel warm and puts you at ease the way friends huddled around a bonfire in the middle of a summer night can make you talk about things you never would have anywhere else. We each have different languages with smell, what we like and what we don’t. My sister, oddly enough, loves the smell of a gas station. I hate it, it gives me a headache. One of my friends loves flowery lotions and perfumes. I prefer more subtle and earthy smells. Does it say something about our personality? Probably. But what?

Smell is also an interpretation. It is a way of opening the world. The paragraph above? You all knew exactly what I was talking about. You all saw those images in your mind, could smell that scent. You all have memories or stories around those scents and millions of others. Every person has a smell. Every home has a smell. You judge a person right away based on their smell. You may not think you do, but subconsciously we notice and we either approve or disapprove. What perfume a woman wears tells us a lot about her, if she has money or not, if she wants to stand out or not, and sometimes if she can smell it or not… What scents do you keep in your house? Why? What are you saying? What do you want others to know just by the smell of your rooms? Or do you actually think about it?

Smell is tied to memories. The scent of a new born baby after a bath. The scent of rain in spring as you walk out to the bus stop and try to avoid the worms on the pavement. The smell of bread baking in the oven. The smell of your dad’s deodorant after a shower. The smell of your grandmother’s White Diamonds perfume. The smell of your friend’s boyfriend as you both smell his hooded sweatshirt during early morning bible study because nobody at your school smells that good… I still remember the way the NICU smelled when I visited in 1998. It had that stale, but clean generic smell of a hospital, mingled with the sweet, subtle fragrance of a baby’s bath and diaper wipes and formula, and the even more subtle hint of burnt something as the machines whirled angrily in their protection of the precious charges they bore.

Smell is tied to emotions. The same candle that sits in my mom’s kitchen sits in my bedroom in my apartment because it smells like home. The subtle smell of coffee takes me to the place I feel most myself, my grandmother’s house, and I smile every time. The smell of warm popcorn makes me hungry. The smell of pine makes me sad unless it’s December. The smell of sandalwood makes me lonely.

An interesting experience happened a few years ago when I was living and working in Cincinnati for massage therapy school. I had lived there as a kid and gone to all of pre-school and elementary school during our time there. We had this principal at my elementary school. She was awesome. Tough, but kind. She always wore the business-suit combo of the 90’s, but she made it work. Her hair was the blonde version of Sally Field in Steel Magnolias, but with more body. She was a tan woman, with bold lipstick, white teeth, and she was just so pretty, even for an older [ish…. I have no idea how old she was, I was a child, everybody is old by comparison] woman. And she had this smell. It was a sweet smell, but with deeper, bold edges to it. And it had that faint hint of alcohol that told you it was a perfume as opposed to a detergent or lotion. No idea what it was, but she was the only woman on earth who smelled that way. And because I liked her, and she liked me, it was a good smell.

I was working at my part-time job one day, minding my own business, when I smelled that smell. It had been at least 10 years MINIMUM since I had smelled it. But I automatically was taken back to that elementary school and that office and that principal. Just for kicks, I looked up from my work and looked intently at all the customers. Lo and behold, there she was. Sans 90’s business suit combo, but same hair, same tan, same face, and, apparently, same smell. I smiled to myself, remembering how much I liked her and how nice she had been and how awesome little me thought she was. It wasn’t possible to talk with her, and I had no intention of approaching when she was surrounded by family. But that was a signature experience for me. I hope someday I see her again and I can tell her about that, especially now. I wouldn’t have seen her had I not smelled that scent again. And maybe she’ll tell me what it is. But I kind of hope she doesn’t. The mystery, the signature, would be lost if someone else could capture it.

And that would ruin the magic.

Smell is magic. It really and truly is. How can something we all experience every day be so without description? How can it make us remember in the way that nothing else can? How can it trigger emotions and memories, speak words we can’t say and help us understand what is not said?

How can losing something we can’t describe and don’t understand and take for granted be so hard to describe and be so very overwhelming?

Magic, I tell you. Just plain simple magic.

And the more I learn, through reading and experience, the more magical it is.

Here’s hoping I get that magic back into my life. I’ll never take it for granted again.

High: The spice of my Spanish rice last night was spicy enough that I could feel it. I’m learning that I need to describe things better—I can feel spice, taste salt, taste sweet, feel tartness and mint, etc…

Low: Remembering what smell was like is fading. I can’t remember as clearly anymore. The scent/taste of my current nothingness is beginning to take over, and that’s really hard.

High: One of our doctors tried to play a prank on me with gag breath mints. Joke’s on him, it didn’t work. I told him I might have been sucking on Tylenol for all I knew. But my colleagues were not so lucky. Apparently, onion ring flavored breath mints are quite disgusting. In case you were curious.

People keep telling me they think I’m getting better. I’m glad they think so. But all it takes is for one of them to make me smell something for me to assure them that smell is not getting better. Yet. I always add in yet. Because there is always hope, even if they say there isn’t. What is getting better is my ability to understand and describe things. I am adapting. I am learning. So, really, I am getting better. Just not in the way they mean. But better is better, right? Of course, right.

Here’s a snippet from my new book, Season to Taste by Molly Birnbaum: “[Smell] doesn’t involve category or generality. Smell is such a different sense, because the molecules come into the body, and then they go out. You experience it immediately by its nature. To describe a smell, words are abstract. Smell is so particular—it’s the most particular configuration of molecules that makes coffee or body odor or acetone. No wonder it’s figurative most of the time.”

So true, my friends. So true. Read the book. It's amazing. And no one is paying me for saying that.
But maybe they should...

I'm Going On An Adventure

It is in my nature to make things seem like less of a problem than what they are, that everything is all right, that I’m fine, that no one needs to worry. I get it from my parents. We’re of the “I can do this, it’s my problem, push through” mentality. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think it’s quite a good thing.
The problem comes when others assume that because we are dealing with this, because we seem to be “handling it so well”, that it’s not actually a problem.
That is not the truth.
As it is with most things in life, our struggles are personal and internal. No one can see them or know of the battle that we wage through them. It’s true with everyone and every problem, no matter what it is.
I had someone say to me recently “You can’t smell anymore? Oh, that’s not that bad.”
Now, I’m not one to broadcast problems or to dramatically wallow for the public in my despair—at least I hope that’s how I come across, it’s what I aim for, at any rate—but that just got to me. Not that bad? Because I can smile and laugh about it? Because the jokes are funny now? Because I’m not locking myself in my bedroom and refusing food or friends?
This is HARD. I don’t want to make it seem worse than it is, because, yes, it could be worse. Just about anything could be worse if you think about it long enough. But one of my favorite people on the planet once said, “Nothing is so bad that whining about it won’t make it worse.” So I don’t whine about it. Well, unless you’re my mom [Sorry, Mom!], in which case you know you’re about to be sainted anyway, so it’s not so bad.
But just because I keep my hard moments for private times, because I still smile and push through, because I am trying to make the best of it, does not mean this is easy.
I’ve lost one of my senses. For whatever length of time God sees fit. Only He knows when/if it will be restored to me. Not even my doctors can tell me that. Could it be worse? Of course! But does that mean this isn’t hard? NO! This is hard. This hurts sometimes. This is sad sometimes. This really sucks sometimes.
But I am choosing, for the most part, to not dwell on those things. Because it could get to me. I know myself well enough to know that I could easily get carried away in how overwhelming this is and letting myself go to dark places AND STAYING THERE would be very detrimental to trying to live in my new world. I’m allowed to have my emotions, good and bad. We all are. What matters is where we choose to live. How we choose to spend each day. And I am not talking about residential markets or extracurricular activities.
I choose not to live in a dark place. I choose light. That doesn’t mean there aren’t clouds. Sometimes light is work. I choose to spend my time learning about the new me, my “new normal”, rather than mourning for what I used to have and be. Doesn’t mean I don’t have moments of regret or pangs of longing. I just don’t stay there. I can’t. I want more than that.
I want more for me.
I have a life to live, we all do. And we deserve to live it. Not just endure it. But LIVE.
Could it be worse? Absolutely. I know very well that I am blessed beyond measure and in the grand scope, this isn’t much at all.
But understand this: Just because it could be worse does not mean it isn’t hard.
It is.
I called this blog “Scentless Adventures” because I want to see this as an adventure. Our lives are filled with adventures, if we will consider them as such. But what adventure, in any story, started out because of something awesome? Most of the time, it was something bad that needed to be fixed and one person was brave enough, bold enough, or sometimes unlucky enough, to step forward and say “I’ll try.” And there are bumps in the road, bruises that we receive, thunderstorms and fire-breathing dragons and sometimes flying monkeys. When the adventure is over, when victory is had, does everything go back to the way it was? No. It can’t. Everything is different. Including the hero. But that adventure, that problem, has been conquered because of the change.
It takes time, it takes learning, it takes those bumps and bruises and storms and fire-breathing dragons and flying monkeys, it takes work and effort and bravery to change. To adapt. To become strong enough to vanquish whatever battle we face.
What adventure is successful if the supposed would-be hero decides to do nothing except cower in the face of the path before him? What victory can be had if he or she sits down and cries “It’s impossible, I can’t do it”? What change can come, what improvements can be made, if that person doesn’t move? So the choice we have is to be the hero and face it, or sit down and wallow. The fear is the same. The uncertainty is the same. The task is the same. What is different is what we do about it.
Be the hero of your adventure. Dark moments will come, and you are allowed to have them. But don’t park yourself within the darkness and say “This looks like a good spot to stay.” Get out of them. Ride them out. Realize that what you are doing is hard, and you are not weak for feeling that way. Then pick yourself up, get back on the road, and say, “Okay. What’s next?”
This is hard. I have a lot of fear and uncertainty. But I also have hope. Hope that this won’t be so weird someday. Hope that I’ll learn how to love my new life. Hope that maybe this won’t last forever. But even if it does, I have hope that it will be okay.
There’s a lot still to learn and experience, and that is both exciting and scary. Adventures are both exciting and scary. This is my adventure. And I’m hoping that when it’s all over, when I have conquered this mountain, He will be proud of the warrior I’ve become. And so will I.

High: Everybody was complaining today about the painting going on in the building because it smelled so much. I didn’t smell a thing. It was great.

Low: Peanut butter. You would think it would taste more like nuts, which I can still enjoy, in a weird way, but it’s not. It’s thick and gunky and has a nutty-like grit of flavor, but all in all, it kinda made me nauseous. I’m thinking of having a moment of silence for that one.

High: I’m expecting some new books any day now that are specifically about smelling disorders and recipes for those who struggle with them. I’m excited to learn more about the “what” I’ve got and the “how” to enjoy it more!

Heavy stuff today, and I’m sorry for that. It just needed to be said. I promise to keep those days minimal, because nobody wants to hear that. Here’s a fun factoid that I picked up from the excerpt of one of the books I’m getting: people with smelling disorders generally have to watch out for 3 things. 1) Decreased appetite. [Check.] 2) Weight loss. [Check.] 3) Too much salt and too much sugar in the diet. [Holy crap…..check….] I didn’t even think about it, but #3 was TOTALLY happening to me. It makes sense, salty and sweet are two of the only things I can tell about foods these days. So I eat a lot of it. Whoops…. Here’s to learning about other stuff I can go for so I don’t end up a scrawny diabetic with high cholesterol!

Air and such

Okay, let’s have a chat.
Adaptation is not an easy thing. I don’t care if it’s moving somewhere, dealing with an injury, or losing a sense. Everything is weird and just when you think you’ve got it, something else changes and it’s weird again.
I spent 10 days out in fresh air and experiencing the world in a brand new way, and it was invigorating and refreshing and awesome. Strange, but awesome.
Back to the grindstone today, and, to be expected, I am experiencing some new things. But not so refreshing.
We’ve talked about how I’ve gotten more sensitive in other respects because of the adaptations, but here’s one I didn’t expect.
Air. I have had to adapt to air. Because air doesn’t smell now, all I’ve got is the texture of the air and the temperature of it. And let me tell you, my sinuses and head are going crazy today. The air in my office is as stale as old bread, and I had no idea it was like that, let alone that it would bother me. But it does! I have had a headache all day [don’t get excited, that’s not for pity] and I couldn’t figure it out. Then I went outside to get something from my car, and ohhhhhhh the air felt so good. It tasted good [weird, I know], it felt good in my nose, and breathing it was just so good. And my headache was gone.
The moment I went back inside? Stifling, hot, pressure, nasal passages closing up, and headache came right back, sinuses blaring like foghorns.
Truly, the most bizarre realization ever.
Oddly enough, walking up to the pool deck didn’t affect me at all. Not particularly thick or muggy, but it didn’t take the headache away. Didn’t hurt as much, but not refreshing. I don’t know if it was the circulation at our pool, or what, because the pool in Austin didn’t affect me at all, but the pool at the fitness center at Lake Lure was bad.
Also the bus ride last night wasn’t super fun. Until he turned the air on and I had a nice blast of cycling air in my face. I’ve been told this makes sense, because even though I can’t smell, I still have my sinuses. I don’t even know what sinuses do, so that doesn’t help me overly much, but apparently it’s good I have them…?
So maybe I need air circulation or fresh air? Or maybe today’s just a strange day. Who knows. But air texture is an interesting new development.
High:  I’m getting better at flavors. It’s not the same as how it used to be, and that’s all fine and dandy, but if I can make differentiations in this new way? That’d be great.

Low: Stale air just makes the nasty smell/taste I live with [a sort of chalky, bitter-ish nothing] more pronounced. It’s awful, cuz everything has that taste/smell and no one needs more of it.

High: That first breath of fresh air this afternoon. It was seriously one of the most heavenly things ever. Maybe I’m getting an all-natural high off of nature?

So let’s see what tomorrow brings. And remind me to tell you what happens when I’ve had caffeine. Wowzers, that's fun when your senses are weird...

Forgetting and Surprising

The interesting thing about not smelling is that I sometimes forget about it. Meaning sometimes I forget that can’t smell. That nothing has a scent anymore. Unfortunately, this means I get the rude awakening multiple times a day, and it’s a little disheartening each time. In spite of what I’ve learned, what I have gained, it still gets to me sometimes.

I know that’s the nature of things like this. Loss, if you will. You start getting used to it, going through the motions, and everything seems normal. But then you remember that it’s not normal. Not really. Sure, it’s the “new normal”, but it’s not like it was. Not how you remember.

Today, for example. I’m at a regatta [rowing race] with my team, and the only bathroom facilities available to us are port-a-potties. So, when so inclined, I went in and did my business.

Only it was the freshest smelling port-a-potty I had ever been in. It was remarkable, really, how not uncomfortable it was. Aside from the fact that it was a warm plastic box specifically designed for bathroom facilities without the work of plumbing, it wasn’t anything disgusting or scary or weird. And then I remembered that this was not how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t some brand new, fresh off of the line port-a-potty that had never been used. This was a well-used much needed port-a-potty at a busy athletic event in the middle of the afternoon in the sunshine. It should have reeked. I should have been holding my breath. I should be screaming inside to get out of here before the germs got to me.

But I wasn’t. Instead there was nothing.

Now, don’t write to my parents, I’m not going into a depression because of a refreshing change of relationship between me and that poor misunderstood port-a-potty. That’s not the point of this. The point was I forgot.

I still forget.

The bus I’m riding on ought to smell like sweaty girls and bus fuel. It doesn’t.

I rode on an airplane and went through a busy airport. It should have smelled faintly of jet fuel, which gives me a headache every time, and it should have smelled like cheap yet expensive airport food. It didn’t. I never got a headache [not complaining about that one], and I was not at all tempted by the yummy looking pizzas that usually would have sent my stomach growling like crazy.

I’m drinking hot chocolate right now. It should taste like hot chocolate. It doesn’t.

But every time I drink it, I expect it to. I suspect I always will.

Ice cream tastes like sweet dairy. Nothing much to it. So I get ice cream with something in it. Variety. The spice of life, right? It’s certainly the spice of mine these days.

Sometimes I forget that chicken doesn’t taste like chicken anymore. Sometimes I forget that a cheese biscuit will taste like the chicken does, except the texture tells me it’s bread and warm and buttery. Sometimes I forget that shampoo and soap doesn’t smell anymore. Sometimes I can’t remember if I put on sunscreen or not because I can’t smell it on my skin.

And briefly, I forget why that is.

Then I remember.

And it’s sad. But then it’s okay. Because that tree near our docking site that I thought was all dormant from winter? It’s not. I looked closer. There’s little tiny buds on it that look like they’ll flower into something. And I could tell what certain rowing teams did well and not so well in their form and stroke on my very first day of watching races because I was paying attention. I had learned how to study the body, and right there I applied it. Because a decently cute college aged rower from a certain school that I will not name looked at me a little too long and with a little too much of a smile when I was wearing your basic jeans, t-shirt, jacket, tennis shoes, and sunglasses. I even added a very sunburnt nose to the ensemble. Didn’t matter that I am way too old for him or that he was so tiny I could have broken his thigh by sitting on him. He looked. And he smiled. And it was nice.

And everybody said the pastrami sandwiches at lunch were awful. I did not know that. And I ate one. Couldn’t complain about it, so that’s good.

And according to my rowers, I’m still ridiculously old, even if I look 23. So there’s that.

High: Differentiating between the peppery taste and the spicy taste on the other chicken at dinner. I didn’t know what the difference was, but there was a difference.

Low: The shampoo at this hotel happens to be one of my all-time favorite Bath and Body Works fragrance. I’m still taking the complimentary bottles. Just in case it comes back, I want this stuff on hand.

High: I’m saying the port-a-potty again. That was awesome. Makes me wonder if diaper changes are as bad if you can’t smell it…

So maybe this isn’t a surprise I enjoy getting every time I forget. But I can breathe. I can see the blue skies. I can hear the birds singing. I can feel the warmth of the sun. And music still calms my heart and settles my mind. 

So it’s really not that bad, is it? 

Unless you’re making bacon to just test me. Then I might hurt you. 

But not really. 

Sort of.

Taste the rainbow?

Let’s talk about taste for a minute.

When I first discovered that I couldn’t smell, it wasn’t the actual lack of smell that trigger the realization. It was the change in taste. I had no idea how intricately tied smell and taste were until now. I’ve only really talked so far about smell and nature, but we’ll get more into how my life has changed and continues to change by not smelling some other time. Right now let’s talk about food.

I’m a foodie. I always have been. I love food. I am an emotional eater, a stress eater, a bored eater, basically I eat my emotions. The fact that I am not a whale is a miracle. I just love the comfort from food. One of the things I have struggled with the most is the fact hat now I can’t taste in the same way.

I’ve begun experimenting with different foods to see if anything will stick, and here are some of my realizations.

Salt: As salty is one of the main tastes for the taste buds, I can taste it. Meaning I can taste if something is salty. Potato chips, French fries, pickles, ketchup, I can taste those. But not all the way. I can taste that they are salty, and that is it. They have no flavor other than salty.

Sweet: Again, there are specific receptors for sweet, so I can generally tell if something is sweet or not. But I can’t tell you what it is. Through experimenting, I can tell you that I can taste the rich sweetness of chocolate, but it doesn’t taste like chocolate anymore. It tastes like sweet. There has to be something else in there for me to get anything else.

Meat: For some reason, meat is an interesting time. Not sure what it means, but meat tastes….meaty. But it depends on the meat. Chicken doesn’t really taste like anything unless it’s been flavored somehow, so that’s roughly the same, depending on the chicken flavoring. But I had Salisbury steak the other day, and it tasted meaty. But not like meaty normally tastes. It’s really weird and I know that I am doing a terrible job of describing it, but that’s all I got.

Citrus: I can taste that citrus is acidic, and sometimes if it is sweet, like pineapple, but it doesn’t taste like much else. Orange juice has a hint of citrus, but it’s not very strong. Lemonade tastes like water with sweet in it. Sprite is fun because it’s got so much carbonation in it and it’s so syrupy that it almost tastes normal. Almost.

Spicy: Thanks to other receptors in the mouth, I can tell if something is spicy. Usually. But that’s all I get. It’s spicy.

Here are some very specific experiences with food for you:

- Reese’s peanut butter cups are my new favorite candy because there is so much flavor in them. But straight peanut butter I can’t really get. Weird.

- PBJ sandwiches. Not a fan anymore, which is tragic, because I was the biggest PBJ kid ever. But the texture is weird when there is no taste involved, so I can’t finish it.

- Potato salad. It’s weird, but two weeks ago I was eating potato salad and there was something about it that I could almost taste so I asked a coach what it tasted like. She thought it was dill. Go figure.

- Dirty rice. So many flavors, so spicy, I can taste it. Sort of. I can taste that it’s spicy, but not what’s in it.

- Brownies. This is so sad, since I’m a brownie girl, but all of the brownies I Have had since then have tasted like really thick, cake-like pancakes.

- Cheesecake. Plain cheesecake doesn’t really have much flavor to it, it’s all a texture thing. Surprisingly, it almost tastes normal. Sort of. I haven’t explored that one too much, but it was a very pleasant surprise that the texture of the cheesecake combined with the sweetness of cheesecake in general was almost like having cheesecake in the days of yore. I wonder if white chocolate raspberry cheesecake tastes different…

- Cranberry juice. I don’t know if you are a fan of this beverage or not, but I am sometimes. I already tried cran-apple, and that tasted like a sweet-ish syrupy thing. But straight cranberry juice? Still get that massive bite of tart at the end. But no real flavor. Still, nice to know that some things haven’t changed.

- Hot chocolate. Oh, this is agony to admit. I am a hot chocolate fiend. Addicted. Compulsive buyer and collector and drinker. But it doesn’t taste the same. I still drink it out of habit and because the warm beverage is comforting, but it tastes like warm thick nothing. I can tell if it’s creamy or watery, but that’s a texture thing.

So basically, I get textures and some strong bursts of flavor, but I can’t tell you what it tastes like. I can tell you it tastes different from something else, sometimes, but not what it is. Scrambled eggs are very boring, but if you put green peppers in them and put ketchup on top (sounds gross, I know) it almost tastes like something. Texture and salt. Variety and flavor. That is what I live for these days.

I’m still trying things, so I’m sure more will come to me. I really like crunchy things right now, for some reason, and carbonation. Maybe it’s a memory thing. Let me know if you have suggestions to try or questions. I’m open to just about everything. Oh, and mushrooms are still gross even if you can’t taste them. They’re slimy and it’s gross and wrong. Plus it’s a fungus, so there’s that.

High: Tasting the cheesecake was pretty awesome, not gonna lie. I almost cried. But that would have ruined it.

Low: Chomping on a chocolate covered espresso bean and not knowing it until someone told me. Yeahhhhh, didn’t see or taste that one coming. Blegh. Even the texture was gross. Like chewing on rocks.

High: Chicken parmesan at dinner. I can taste the acidity of the marina sauce and the breaded chicken tasted like breaded something meaty, so it was actually pretty enjoyable.

My main problem is my appetite. When you can’t taste things, you don’t get hungry as much so your caloric intake goes way down. You just don’t WANT to eat. And forcing yourself to eat just makes you sick. So I eat small portions of lots of things to get that variety and get enough in before I’m bored with it, and I do some meal replacement shakes when I need to, for calories and nutrients.

And chocolate. That always helps.