Photo by Casey DeViese on Unsplash

Picture this: I am about to dig into a deli sandwich — ciabatta, avocado and bacon. My mouth is watering for the first bite. But there’s a problem: I can’t taste it. I can’t taste anything. I might as well be eating a sponge.

I have Covid 19.

It all started when I was doing a little kitchen clean-up and, wow, that Clorax bleach sure seemed a little weak. Or a lot weak. I put the bottle to my nose. Nothing.

I had read about this peculiar symptom, and I probably had chuckled. After all, it’s not nearly as bad as say, coughing your face off (like my husband), fever and punishing headaches (husband), deep fatigue (daughter). And certainly it’s nothing compared to the panic of not being able to get a breath and finding yourself on a gurney (neighbor). And so, I am over-the-moon thankful that this disease has only declared war on my taste buds.

But still, it’s a real loss. Food and drink — and the smells thereof — bring immense pleasure to life. Pleasures I had simply taken for granted. And suddenly they are gone.

I take that back. My daughter and I think we can detect if something is salty. Sort of.

Since there are three of us sick at home, kind friends have dropped off beautiful plates of food: last night a Tuscan chicken, tonight lasagna. It’s been wonderful not to have to cook, but imagine sampling your friend’s cuisine and not being able to enjoy it. People have sent beautiful flowers. We take them to my coughing husband for a sniff.

I still can’t get used to it. The other night, I was totally congested. I put some Vicks Vapo Rub in one nostril expecting that pungent eucalyptus to send me to a tropical island. Nothing. Why do I keep forgetting I can’t smell?

My doctor says it can take up to two weeks — or way longer — until my olfactory system sorts itself out. Until then, I will try to make a diet out of it. I mean, why eat a cookie if I can’t taste it? Might as well just eat a low-fat mozzarella cheese stick.

After all, it tastes just like bacon.