949 Days. 2 years 7 months 7 days. 31 months 7 days. That’s when I first lost my sense of smell and that’s how long it has been since I have not regained it fully. Currently, I am about 50/50 I would say, between anosmia (no smell) and parosmia (altered smell). It has been such a difficult and weird journey, but I keep moving forward. I have to.
“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”
– Martin Luther King Jr.
The other day I was cleaning out our woodshed, and as I was standing there, i could smell the pungent odor of cut pine logs, and it was glorious. For just a minute or so, all was well. Then it was gone. Later that week, on several occasions, I smelled the horrible odor of a smelly dumpster in the heat and it was exciting to me (and people think I am nuts) because it smelled like it was supposed to. Yet, as I am sitting here typing, I am drinking a Starbucks hot chocolate and just now I took the lid off and breathed deeply… and it smells like old socks. So, there you go. Such is the nature of this bizarre malady that so many of us are dealing with post-COVID. Thankfully, it tastes just fine. There are a few things that I can’t eat or drink, but compared to many, I consider myself very fortunate in that regard.
“So this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”
– Stephen Chbosky
Honestly, I don’t know if I will ever get my sense of smell back after this long. I see that people in the group do and that is encouraging. But closing in on a thousand days of this, it feels like the possibility is becoming less likely. I cling to hope. I sniff things all the time, remembering / imagining how they used to smell and hoping that this will somehow maybe possibly rewire my brain. Some would say, “You have to fight it. Don’t make peace with it!” But after 949 days, I grow weary from the fight. I tend to get to a place of, well, I guess this is how it is. I will learn to adjust and adapt. I miss being outside and smelling fresh cut grass that doesn’t smell sicky-sweet, or the smell of campfire smoke that now makes me want to gag. I hate it, but I can’t reside in that negative space. While I have an illness, I am not my illness. It does not define me. I have to move beyond however I can. So in the meantime, I try to be thankful for those small moments of clarity and correct smell, and I speak and pray life, healing, and hope over myself.
“Don’t forget you’re human. It’s okay to have a meltdown, just don’t unpack and live there. Cry it out and then refocus on where you are headed.”
– unknown
“It’s easier to go down a hill than up it but the view is much better at the top.”
— HW Beecher