Link Banana

Elizabeth Zierah explores the unexpected difficulty of losing your most undervalued sense: the ability to smell.

I lost normal function on the left side of my body from a stroke when I was 30, and although I’ve had a strong recovery, I still have limited fine-motor control in my left hand, I walk with a limp, and I can’t feel much on my affected side. Yet without hesitation I can say that losing my sense of smell has been more traumatic than adapting to the disabling effects of the stroke. As the scentless and flavorless days passed, I felt trapped inside my own head, a kind of bodily claustrophobia, disassociated. It was as though I were watching a movie of my own life. When we see actors in a love scene, we accept that we can’t smell the sweat; when they take a sip of wine, we don’t expect to taste the grapes. That’s how I felt, like an observer watching the character of me.

…Even after the usual grooming ritual—shower, deodorant, teeth brushing—I still have a nagging fear that I’ve missed something. What if I reek but don’t know it? What if I have something gross on the bottom of my shoe, and everywhere I go I leave behind a foul trail? I’m not only dogged by the fear of stinking; I’ve also found that life is more dangerous. I’ve burned food and melted pots so many times I should be declared a walking fire hazard. Like most anosmics, I view any gas appliance as an archnemesis. I’ve become compulsive about making sure my gas stove is really on when I turn the dial.

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Maybe I’m the only one who finds the idea of smell-matching oddly compelling.

(via The Econimist)