Goings On and On

I know it’s been a while, and I don’t know if anybody actually reads this, but I thought an update was in order.

I was told that my symptoms might get worse with stress, so I was expecting to have an interesting time of it this summer. Between graduating, moving, hopefully starting a new job and settling in somewhere, I had just about all the expected major changes one has in a life within a few months. All I could do was pray that somehow I would have the strength and capacity to do that.

Graduation came and went without a hitch, and I felt like I blinked and suddenly I was an alumni with a master’s degree. Two years were done just like that. Amazing how that works.

I worked for a bit longer, applying for whatever jobs I found interesting anywhere in the country. And nothing. That was frustrating, but it was okay. I moved back home and spent a lot of time with my family, somehow managing to fit all of my things in the house.

Then I miraculously got a job, one I never expected to exist, and I took it. Then I moved, started work, and got settled in, and now here I am.

I’ve done it, for the most part. Settling takes time. But nothing was worse. Not a thing. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for normalcy, for nothing. Yet here I sit, grateful that everything feels normal.

But I need to define normal: I still can’t smell.

And that’s normal now.

Taste has really made up for lost time. I have had all sorts of adventures there, and they are all part of my common, every day life now. Nothing tastes like it used to, and that is normal now as well. But I am tasting more, picking up more, and I’ve stopped looking for what is missing and try to focus on what is there. It’s rare for me to be disappointed that I can’t taste something anymore, because I now EXPECT not to taste anything. Not in a negative way, I’m not depressed every time I lift a fork to my mouth. That would be a waste of time, food, and life.

I only mean that, again, nothing has become NORMAL. So when I taste something when I don’t expect to, I get a jolt of pleasure. And it would be silly to talk about it,  because how do you explain that you can taste something in the marinara sauce, but you don’t taste the marinara sauce?

Something strange has been happening lately. I derive pleasure from food again. Not like I used to, but I’ve stopped comparing now to then.

For example, I was eating at a friend’s house the other day and they were having an Italian dish. Now, I knew from experience that there was something about Italian food that I could pick up more than others, so I expected to taste something. But what I hadn’t expected was for it to taste GOOD. Food had been BLAH for so long that I had grown used to it. I’d started resenting food for a while, which was silly and stupid, but I’m human. I know I was frustrating to live with because I was regularly asked what I wanted to eat and my usual response was “I don’t know” followed by “It doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t TRYING to be difficult, I was being truthful. But not helpful.

But this…this was different. I couldn’t tell you what was so amazing about this food, but I loved it. I wanted more of it. It was so good. And I am drawing out those words very dramatically.

And then there was another night with another friend where we had a bowl of curry that was one of the most colorful bowls I have ever seen. And if I was blindfolded, I would not have been able to tell you what I was eating. But it was warm. Not just in temperature, but in flavor. I had expected, from previous experience with this family’s style of cooking, that spices were going to be in abundance, and if I could feel my tongue by the end, I was fortunate. And that would not have been good for me, as I kind of need mine for any sort of food processing. But this food was warm in spice and in flavor, the kind that warms your body and soul from the inside out. And I loved it. I wanted more, except I was so full I knew full well I COULDN’T have more. But taste-wise, I wanted more.

Now I’m not sure what’s in store for the future. I can’t smell any better than I could right after this happened, as evidenced by the fact that I cooked two packages of bacon without even once having the desire to taste it and my stomach never once growled. So unnatural, but there it was. And I had no idea that the break room at work smelled like caramel. Or that one of the apartment complexes I visited during hunting smelled funny. And I never got that singular headache that told me someone was eating licorice when my fellow orienteers broke that out.

But if food can start being fun again? That would be awesome. I’m not naïve enough to think that every food I eat will be suddenly amazing again. I had stuffing tonight, one of my all-time favorite comfort foods, and while the texture was familiar, the token taste was missing. I still ate it, and I was still comforted. Was I disappointed? Sure. But nothing a shoulder shrug and another helping wouldn’t fix.

Hot chocolate still tastes funny. But I drink it.

Sandwiches are still awkward if they aren’t hot. But I eat them.

Garlic butter with Papa John’s pizza doesn’t add very much any more, multi-flavored ice cream is boring, toothpaste is just plain weird, and salsa is just a mass of spiciness.

But I can taste the difference between processed salsa and fresh salsa. I like Italian food way more than I used to. The colorful spectacle of that curry was just as enjoyable as its delicious flavors were, whatever they were. Ice cream with chocolate bits is still better than ice cream without it. Hint of Lime tortilla chips are still better than regular ones.

I might not be able to smell, but no one can say that I don’t appreciate taste more than I used to.

I still struggle with knowing what to say after a meal. Most of the time, I won’t know if something is good or not. Was it satisfying? Sort of. Was it enough? Probably. Was it good? Umm….I THINK so? Honestly, I could eat pretty much anything and be as satisfied as I ever get. Like my dinner today: chips and salsa, followed by stuffing, followed by a few handfuls of Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats. What in the world is that about?  Might as well have been Christmas dinner to me.

I was asked recently if I knew what it was like to just not be satisfied with a meal. This person knew of my condition very well, but like me, they forgot, they didn’t think about it, this was normal. So when I gave her a look, she gave it right back. And then realization dawned. “Oh…yeah…I guess you would.”

Yep. I guess I would.

But there is more than that. Why focus on something so insignificant? Sure, I hoped things would be better by now, but they’re not, so that’s that. Move on, go on, live on. I have no desire to wallow and, honestly, what is there to wallow about? This is normal now, and that’s as it should be.

High: I was able to taste that orange juice was bad recently. I doubted it, so I had someone with full smell/taste abilities to try it, and they confirmed it. Nice to know I have that if I need it. With orange juice, any way. Small victories are still victories.

Low: Moving to a new place had me all sorts of worried about not being able to smell. Those fears I talked about before, with smoke and gas and the like, all haunted my dreams, sometimes rather vividly. It was not a comfortable few days. But I got over it, and I know that I will have the instincts I need when I need them.

High: I had Swedish Fish at a party a few weeks ago. Still love those. Ah, nostalgia, I missed you…

I’ve heard a lot that since I can’t taste as much, I could be healthier without much difficulty. This is true. Except for one thing: it’s me. Doesn’t matter if brownies don’t taste quite the same, I’m still choosing brownies over carrots. Every. Single. Time.

So, hope you’ve liked the updates. Hope you’re still around. Hope you still find the beautiful hidden in every day. 

I’m still here. Still kickin’. Still livin’.

And so are you.