Day One: It Begins

It was odd really. The first thing my colleague Sarah mentioned when I greeted her was, ‘do you have a cold?’

In truth, I had a flare of allergic rhinitis at the weekend but then again I suffer from hayfever and a severe dust mite allergy. I didn’t feel unwell but I didn’t feel one hundred percent either. But most peculiar, was that I was for once, unable to describe how I felt. It was as if I was on edge constantly, or on the brink of falling ill.

At lunch time, I bought a hot chocolate and some prawn cocktail shells. The cafe had stopped selling the mint hot chocolate for some time but I felt chilly and fancied a hot beverage. I didn’t think much of it because I was wearing scrubs after all, and hospitals can be like enormous fridges at times. I met up briefly with my partner, a nurse, to say hi and as we walked, I sipped my drink. It did not taste particularly nice. It didn’t taste like sour milk either but it just did not settle well with me. So I threw away half the drink, much to my partner’s dismay. I had never done that before and even if the drink was not as delicious as usual, I would still just finish the drink normally.

The prawn cocktail shells, usually my top potato snack did not invigorate my taste buds either but my team were fortunately present to spare a repeat of the food wastage from earlier.

That evening, I arrived home and made dinner. My partner, Fi had not arrived home from work yet, as she was working a later shift. I had the mildest of headaches, which I attributed to feeling tired and had a shower. The headache went away, as I expected it would. Then I made dinner. Vegan pork buns – if you believe such a thing exists. I recall cooking the vegan pork in a frying pan and despite feeling hungry, I was hardly salivating at the meal brewing before me.

I ate it. It was rather underwhelming.

Fi had previously tried this dish and loved it. It was supposed to be my turn to cherish it. However, when she got home and asked for my opinion, I offered an honest assessment, which disappointed, to say the least. My exact words were: ‘it was a bit bland but next time I would just add more seasoning whilst cooking it.’

It was not until later that night, when she cracked open a new disinfectant much like a bottle of prosecco, to wipe her phone down, that she commented on the smell.

‘It really smells like tea tree. It’s really strong.’

That was when I realised I had lost my sense of smell. I couldn’t even make up what it smelt like. She said it was strong and sprayed onto kitchen roll, practically shoving it into my face.

Nothing at all.

I freaked out a little. I ran upstairs and tried some perfumes and a hairspray I had historically complained about whenever the air was choking in it.

Again, nothing.

I could not smell anything at all.