Whoa, What is That Smell?!?

 As the swelling of my joints dissipates, my body shrinks (nothing like chemo for a diet plan) and I try to resume an ordinary life outside of the 2 days a week I play like a zombie, I have some strange new things that are adding interest to this experience. And I feel it is my duty to share with all of you.

I have been told that chemo lessens your ability to taste and smell, but I have experienced the opposite. I was already what people would call a Super Taster, someone that can smell and taste things most people can not. Super Tasters excel at wine and food analysis and I must say it does make for some fun party tricks; like name the grape in this wine or what is the secret ingredient in this dish. Mind you it is only fun when I am in the mood and offer it as an observation to oohs and ahhhs, a lot less fun when someone is challenging me out of no where, that gives me massive anxiety and happens far too often. But I digress, the point is that now I have an additional sensitivity in my sense of smell and taste that I am almost pained by it. My absolute love for spicy food has been cut by 80% with the sensation of the heat giving me a tingling tongue and sharp pain. Sweet is too sweet making most desserts cloyingly repugnant, tart is sour up into my sinuses and salty simply abrades my mouth while covering up all other flavors. And smells, OMG smells! People's detergent they wash their clothes with is crazy intense and disturbing, someone that hasn't washed their hair in a few days emanates an oily smell from their scalp, and bad breath makes me gag. It isn't all bad though, I absolutely love sitting outside on my patio with the smells from the neighboring farms far enough away that the smells are pleasant. The flowers growing in the yard  1/4 of a mile away swirl over to me, the char from someone grilling is deliciously pungent and the actual heat that radiates off the grass on a hot day is a mixture of fresh greens, and herbs, almost like a tea. While adding an amazing layer of color, as if seeing in ultraviolet, these new sensory increases feel like an assault I can't escape. Think of it like being forced to keep running at the end of a marathon, a natural human action shoved into an unnatural version of itself. 

This all seems doable... except as the world opens up, I hesitate to join in. I need my mask not only for my now nonexistent immune system, but to protect me from the smells. I am going to be weaned off the chemo and I can't help but wonder if my senses will return to "normal" or if I will have to endure this strange torture forever. I know, I know, definitely not the worst thing to have happen, I was terrified of getting covid and loosing my sense of smell and taste, so this is better right? I realize I must sound insane, maybe I am, after all 'we all go a little crazy sometimes".