I cannot smell, but I can feel the breeze on my face and know spring has arrived. I miss being able to fully taste my favorite foods, but I can look out any window and feast my eyes. I hear the voices of young people in my life – my grandchildren, my students, the happy little girl just down the street – and my heart fills with joy.
From the time I was a teenager, I have loved to cook. To feed the people I love! Few things bring me more joy. Since I lost my sense of smell, I must depend on recipes. I have a limited sense of taste, but I am lucky to have a life full of people willing to sample whatever is simmering on my stove. I used to be so territorial in my kitchen. I like this version of me better.
I must be practical, of course. We have a ridiculous number of smoke alarms in our house, each with a 10-year battery and connected to a network. I buy Costco bundles of soap, because I shall be squeaky clean every single day. I check diapers by sight instead of smell, and that is one scent I am not sorry to miss. Likewise, if you are in the hospital, I am the perfect bedside companion, no matter the smells.
This is not an attempt to diminish the suffering of those of you who are struggling right now with a sudden loss of your senses. This is just me waving to you from a few feet ahead, eager to remind you of all that remains.
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