Having two autoimmune diseases puts me in the crosshairs for various illnesses anyway—but then I went to the Lady Gaga concert at the Forum—the first such thing I'd done in a long time—and I think that's where I caught a bug.
But this wasn't just any bug. What started as a loss of appetite, sore throat, and the sniffles turned into the worst headache of my life—one that almost sent me to the emergency room.
I decided to do telehealth instead, particularly after all my home tests for COVID-19 and flu A and B turned up negative.
"It's probably Covid that the tests just aren't picking up," the nurse practitioner told me, unfazed at the severity of my symptoms, which also included a persistent fever. "Flu tests are pretty reliable; Covid ones, not so much."
It didn't feel like I had Covid. At least, it didn't feel the way that it did when I'd caught the virus in July 2022. But then again, it's mutated several times over the last three years. And the symptoms seem to change all the time.
The other thing was, I didn't smell like I had Covid. One of the hallmarks of my last infection was a very weird, distinct smell—one that I'd detected on myself while last sick and for a couple of weeks after, and one that I'd picked up on friends recovering from the coronavirus. It was so pronounced, I could smell it when I drove past the wastewater treatment plant in the Valley (because of "fecal shedding," yuck).
But I wasn't off-gassing like that this time. Or was I?
I hadn't realized it, but I'd completely lost my sense of smell—which didn't become clear to me until I left my cast iron pan on the burner while I went to the bathroom and emerged to a smoke-filled apartment. I couldn't smell any of it.
Sure, I was congested. But even after I took antibiotics and cleared up my sinuses, the olfactory sense didn't return.
That was a month ago, and I still can't smell anything.
Well, that's not entirely true. I do smell something: burning. At first, I thought it was a cigarette smell from from my smoker friend, or maybe someone in my building defying the smoking ban. But then I realized: The smell is inside my nose.
Or, it's inside my brain.
There are reports of phantom smells (a.k.a. phantosmia) during Covid recovery among other patients, the theory being that the virus kills some brain cells that have to grow back. And when they do, you might have to re-train them to recognize common scents.
Part of me enjoys this sensory deprivation. Most big cities—Los Angeles included—don't smell very good. I dodge a bullet every time I go to the bathroom or my kittyboy uses the litter box. I can't smell my own body odor (or deodorant, for that matter).
But I also can't smell anything good, like my coffee-scented candle, perfume, or freshly shampooed hair.
A couple of weeks ago, I caught a very faint whiff of garlic knots after practically sticking my nose right into a plate of them. Sometimes I think I can sniff out the staleness of my apartment when the air conditioner runs too long without the windows being opened.
And the loss of smell comes with another annoying complication: I can't taste very much.
This time around, I didn't lose my sense of taste the way I did when I had Covid in 2022—when all I could taste was bacon and chocolate, and orange juice just felt slippery in my mouth. But having zero sense of smell for the last month has really impinged on my ability to have a nuanced experience with food flavors.
So what do I do?
Choose habanero-infused cheddar over my regular extra sharp. Order the Super Tuscan red wine, which now tastes even lighter than my usual Pinot Noir. Add bacon and raw onions to my grilled cheese. Plop hot sauce on everything.
Salt the sh*t out of every plate.
Burn the sh*t out of my (gluten-free) bread.
Mustard my mayo, pickle my de gallo, and chili my chicken.
The foods I enjoy now are simply the ones I can taste. Any food I can taste.
Bring on the olives in my salads and on my pizzas! Damn the tomatoes!
I don't think it will be this way forever. I'm sure I'll come to my senses eventually, or rather my senses will come back to me.
But for now, I miss tasting things. I miss trying things for the first time. I miss exhaling when I chew and getting that burst of flavor that helps the texture make sense.
I miss both the bitter and the sweet, the first bite and the aftertaste. I miss the forward flavors and the back-of-throat burns.
And while I can't taste anything, it doesn't feel as though I've eaten at all.
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That stinks... well, not literally:o)
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