Losing My Senses

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.