Photo by Cristiane Teston on Unsplash
A life without senses seems bleak and gray, like a flower without color or scent.
Writing has always been a descriptive means of sharing a life. Whether it is a memoir or an imaginative work of fantasy, a writer uses senses to tell a story and share a piece of themselves. But nothing is more frightful when a story lacks that sensual connection between the writer and the reader.
When a story is void of a vision or a voice, the
reader is more likely to stop reading and hide that book somewhere else. A
connection has to be tangible for a reader, even as far as the five senses as
well as emotion. As I age today, I am more aware of the likelihood that my
senses will dull. My glasses script will
get stronger. My hearing may fade to the
point that I may need hearing aids. These things come with devices to
help, but what about those senses that do not come with assistance?
One day many years ago, I lost two of my senses.
The setting and situations that led up to the event were the perfect storm for
a traumatic event. I was at the mall with my mother and I started feeling sick.
The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room because I passed out in the
mall. Talk about your shop til you drop, except we hadn’t even started shopping
yet. Regardless, I fell straight back and cracked my skull on the concrete floor.
The doctor said that I hit my head in the right place so that I would not have
pressure in my skull. It’s nice to know that I managed to damage myself in the
best way possible, but it’s not very reassuring. That is especially true for my mom who
witnessed the whole thing. To this day I still have amnesia of the events
including the ambulance ride though I am told I was alert and responding.
So the skull fracture healed and the concussion
was resolved, but the damage to my olfactory nerves took much longer. Remember
when you were little that you would hold your nose when you ate vegetables that
you did not want to taste? That is because your sense of smell and taste
are connected. While the damage was not permanent, it took me months of
tasteless foods and odorless objects before my brain even started
reinterpreting the smells and the connections I had to them. I still had the
ability to taste with my tongue; i.e. soup was salty, gelatin was sweet. Still,
you may not realize how much it can be limited.
I had to go through the whole learning process
at college because the accident happened a month before my freshman year. As
much as I got along with my roommate, there were some moments that made me seem
like the crazy one. For some reason, for example, the first time that they turned
on the heat in the dorm, I SWORE I smelled raw chicken. The same was true in
cars. In the dorm, it was impossible because there were no kitchens or
cafeterias in the building. The most we cooked was microwave popcorn and ramen
noodles. However, the smell in the car got to be so overpowering for me that I
would have to hang my head out of the window in the middle of winter so that I
wouldn’t get nauseous. Phantom smells were becoming commonplace. I found out later
that this can happen when you have a head injury. Raw chicken may have been a
phantom smell altogether. I would rather smell ANYTHING other than that.
Vanilla, a man’s cologne, pine trees, something other than rotting flesh.
Not being able to smell had its advantages. When
I would visit my friends in the guys’ dorm, I was never offended by the smells
that came out of their rooms. Burping and farting contests? They may clear a
room, but it had no effect on me. Then there was the time that my darling
roommate had an itch for a prank war. She would put cream of wheat in my coffee
creamer or shaving cream in my toothpaste. You can’t enjoy a good prank when
there is no reaction to a taste. She eventually went on to target other girls
on our floor.
Even though the doctor said that nothing was
severed and I would get my smell back, it was a struggle wondering when it
would happen and if I would get it right. I mean, raw chicken because of
heating? That was pretty bizarre for a while. There were many of things I
missed while I was coping without these senses. I LOVE garlic. Even the smell
of grilled onions is like comfort for me. I missed these smells and tastes so
much. Chinese and Italian foods were just fuel for the body without these
flavors. I mourned their absence in a poem for one of my writing classes in college.
My professor was easily entertained by my themes.
Today I would say that I am at 80% of taste,
smell, and interpretation. Every now and then I will ask my husband what a
smell is because I just cannot figure it out. One of the many things that have
come out of this experience is my appreciation for the things we can smell and
taste in life. I like knowing that I am odiferous and need to take a shower
before I interact with others. I love the aroma of garlic bread in the oven. I
also enjoy embarrassing my son when I tell him how nice the celebrities are at
meet-and-greets as well as how good they smelled. (See previous post.) I may
have olfactory issues, but I’m glad that I had the ability to reintroduce
myself to smells and taste. This experience has made me appreciate them more.
Garlic and onions are for me
The aromas that deserve my revelry;
When smells are lost and taste not found
It clouds my world, so dull and down.
I’ll pass on decay, scorches and feet –
Those smells are not for me.
But daffodils, cologne, and cookies, I say
Bring life to my nose every new day.
