She Doesn't Smell Well

She Doesn’t Smell Well

Looking back, I can’t believe we didn’t figure it out sooner. Whether it’s the soft scent of baby powder or the pungent pine of Christmas trees, the smell of popcorn erupting in buttery goodness or chocolate chip cookies emerging from the oven, our daughter has never experienced any of these olfactory sensations. Katie has anosmia. It took us 13 years to notice.

Anosmia simply means the absence of a sense of smell. Doctors at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, MD tested her olfactory abilities with a scratch and sniff book of familiar scents. She failed it, big time. While some people have nerve damage or injuries that cause them to lose their ability to smell, Katie’s is apparently a congenital problem, present since birth. Yet, her deficit only recently came to light.

I remember going to places like Bath and Body Works when she was much younger. We would spray the little cards to help us select our favorite fragrance. But while I was choosing from the enticing aromas of citrus or peach, Katie could never decide on one she liked. Once, we laughed ourselves silly when we misread the name on a bottle as “Brown Sugar and Pig” instead of “Brown Sugar and Fig.” I had asked her, “Does that smell like a pig to you?” In hindsight, I recognize what was complete indifference as she sniffed the unscented air and shrugged. Now I realize she couldn’t smell a thing.

Katie readily admits that if she had to go missing one of the five senses, she would pick her sense of smell. The others work just fine, thankfully. Where she may lack the ability to enjoy a whiff of hot baked bread or smell the summer rain, she harbors an amazing talent for seeing the positive side of things.

“When we’re in science lab, I just love it when everybody else is gagging over horrendous odors and I’m just fine,” she told me. “I don’t smell farts, or dog mess or anything else that makes people want to hurl.” While this girl of ours could be bemoaning the fact that her sniffer doesn’t work, instead she finds reasons to be glad in it.

They say that when you lack one of the five senses, the others may be enhanced. We’ve decided the child has supersonic hearing. She can hear the flutter of moths’ wings and private conversations from a mile away. Of course, I worry over the fact that she can’t smell something burning or the stench of spoiled food. She uses deodorant profusely and squirts perfume in spite of the fact that she has no idea if it smells good or bad. I never gave my sense of smell much thought until I witnessed her challenges through a parent’s eyes.

The olfactory bulb in the brain is closely tied to the limbic system, which helps us process memories and emotions. As a result, odors and aromas play a large role in triggering recollections of the past. Cinnamon, vanilla, apple pie. Who doesn’t have warm and wonderful memories tied to these? Not once have I heard my daughter say “That smells so good!” when I cook her favorite foods.

While I am amazed we didn’t discover her anosmia sooner, she laughs at the fact that when the rest of us were extolling the exquisite aromas of steaks on the grill or jasmine in bloom, she always pretended to smell them. What she must have experienced sniffing the odorless air had to be something akin to eating food that, no matter what, tasted like rice cakes.

Katie exhibits an intense appreciation for color and design, for music and hugs. She sees life as full of opportunities as well as challenges. She hears the promise of a hopeful future. She tastes the spice of life easily and gratefully. In spite of puzzling health challenges the last couple of years, this girl of ours is feeling the welcome reward of finally being understood.

Sometimes we’ll exclaim, “What’s that smell?” The look she gives us speaks volumes. I tell her that when she marries, I hope it’s to a man who smells well. Or is that good? I suppose it would be great if it’s both.