Olfactory Reset
I’m what is known as a long-hauler. Someone whose symptoms persist and change over months, possibly even years after the virus has taken it’s toll. I can’t feel my arms and legs sometimes and other times they ache to no end. I have experienced blurred vision, lack of concentration, seeing stars and last but not least a loss of taste and smell. Now I can’t speak for every post-covid patient as we all experience different symptoms and some change over time. What I want to focus on here is the loss. There is grief, albeit slight, in cooking a full Thanksgiving dinner for your family of four during lockdown. There is no wafting aroma of a roasting turkey, no tasting the gravy to add a last dash of salt. This experience was sadly 8 months ago. I was diagnosed in early November along with my husband and our two boys. It took about a month to be up and around and I struggled through the cooking so that we wouldn’t lose what was left of tradition during the order to stay at home.
Cut to July at a restaurant with my sister-in-law as we raised a glass to an afternoon out without the children. I came to Vermont on my first ever trip outside my home state of Montana. As we raised our glasses and drank the cool, crisp wine she smiled and said, “Isn’t this good?”. It’s so easy for people to forget that I can’t taste or smell and they feel immediately guilty for asking how my lunch is or if the coffee is too strong. As I cut through my salad and took a bite I mentioned to her that after 8 months the only way I know how to eat and try to create an experience out of it is to play pretend. It’s that simple.
Get Katharine Barba’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I think to myself that I know the taste of butter lettuce, a creamy dressing and a glass of white wine. I can creep back into my memories of the times I enjoyed all of them and piece them all together while I bite down. It helps to close your eyes and reach deep into your imagination. Most days I’m slogging through a cup of black caffeinated water, a last minute ordered pizza for the boys and tasteless ice cream that only serves to freeze my mouth and slide down as empty calories. It becomes a cycle of mindless actions to give my body some food before it rumbles inside asking for whatever is around. I no longer have a yearning for a chai latte or a piece of chocolate that I can savor and hold on my tongue. The thrill is gone my friends.
Mindful eating has been all the rage in the past few years and I can tell you first hand that what I am experiencing is a similar phenomenon. First we cut the steak, watch the piece and while you stick your fork into it you’ll notice how tough or tender it will be. Raise it to your mouth and take a bite. It could end there or you can close your eyes and bring back your memory of the best steak you had in your life. Take a sip of your husband’s beer and feel the cold bubbles. Imagine that beer you had one night on a date at your favorite brewery. The things you eat take on a different form all together when there is no scent or taste. They become travels through time. Living on memories of family dinners, the first blooms of the year when my peonies burst open in June or enjoying the fact that I can’t smell some of the more pungent things my dogs bring into our home. I would trade all of the bad smells for the good obviously and embrace them all in one giant tangy, sticky, burned, sweet hug. For now I continue to check the smoke alarms and search my memories for something I can cook and maybe dream of.
