Remembrance of aromas past

Six weeks after my cold shut down my sense of smell, I can now detect odors intermittently. My nose was always my strongest sense. I need hearing aids, I wear bifocals, I have the food tastes of a child (salt and sugar—those are my only appetites), and I have peripheral neuropathy so the tips of my fingers and toes are numb. But despite a long history of nasal ailments—a deviated septum, sinus infections, allergies, a scar from a car accident that severed one nostril—my nose was strong until August 15.

Nasal acuity wasn't always a blessing. Indeed, oversensitivity to odors has resulted in a squeamishness I'm ashamed of. When I was a kid I was revolted by the smell of my older brother's freckles—kind of grainy. I could smell my little brother's boogers even when I couldn't see him picking his nose—sort of salty and rancid at the same time. My best friend in junior high had oily hair, and even if she had washed it in the morning, I found it hard to be in the same room with her by evening. My mother's perfume, Madame Rocha, was so arresting that I couldn't concentrate when she wore it. When I went to college, she gave me a bottle. I regifted it. It was too distracting. And although I love my cat Ivy, I can't bear to have her sleep with me because her tongue smells gamey.

But often odors have been a delight. I fell in love with Other partly because of the faint whiff of avocado he gave off—intoxicating. And my kids were sweetly fragrant underneath the baby-powder scent infused in all infant products. It was startling when they entered adolescence and began to exude adult odors—halitosis, b.o., gym foot—but I found those interesting rather than repellant.

So having only occasional use of my nose is something I notice. It's like living in black-and-white with sudden flashes of Technicolor. Today I smelled Iggy's turd in the cat box before I saw it. Not a great odor, but exciting to smell it anyway. Later I smelled the sweet milky coffee scent on my friend A's breath. It was nice—though it felt uncomfortably intimate, so I consciously repressed it. Right this moment I can smell Other's chicken roasting in the oven. And I know that all will be well.