Cormac MacConnell: Looking for a smell or a taste of a cure
Not for the first time, I am venturing into unknown territory, on this occasion in relation to what could be called a medical consequence, and I will be fascinated by any response.
What happened last weekend was I was down in Kerry to accompany brother Mickie and his family to the obsequies of the mighty Mary Keane of Listowel, RIP, widow of the late John B Keane, and at some stage, we wandered out to Ballybunion to clear our heads and minds.
Some time after we passed the splendidly titled Stagger Inn in the centre of the resort, we overheard a couple bemoaning the fact that a grandmother had been unable to come on holiday with them, because she had been stricken with flu above in Dublin.
This led to the MacConnell brothers clapping themselves on the back for never ever having been laid low by a bout of influenza, summer, winter, Hong Kong, or any other variety.
I remarked, however, that I had been stricken by a mild class of a flu about five years ago in the spring of the year.
I was pleased by the fact that it did not put me out of action at all, I was not bedridden, and I did not miss even an hour’s work, even though I felt a little bit ill for four or five days. A few hot whiskies and Lemsips did the trick, is what I said.
Almost as an afterthought, I added that there had been one consequence of that mild flu. It was weeks later before I realised that it had robbed me of about 90% of my previously powerful sense of smell. Until then, I always knew, for example, if my wife was using a new perfume, the second she entered the room.
I could savour the aromas of roses in the garden, and honeysuckle, and bacon and cabbage and suchlike in the kitchen.
Now, I said, a smell has to be especially powerful or obnoxious for me to register it at all.
And I added that my sense of taste, concurrently, had also been adversely affected. I reckoned that it had been reduced by more than half.
I felt the loss of the sense of taste quite profoundly, and had sought to address the problem by using stronger flavourings on my food, and being very liberal with mustard, pepper and salt.
And dammit, did not Mickie tell me that he got that mild strain of flu the same spring with the same consequences, only worse again!
He has completely lost the use of both senses, in real terms, even though, like myself, the infection did not stop him working or drive him on to the pillows.
We checked back in time and, no, we had not met up at all that spring, and so we could not have infected each other. Accordingly, the flu strain must have been quite widespread, at least in Munster.
I recall now, many years ago in Roscommon, not having sufficient sympathy for a young Garda friend, who had been involved in a traffic accident, and suffered quite serious facial injuries, even though his life was never endangered.
I met him some years later, and he told me that his life had been very seriously affected by the fact he had lost the ability to taste and smell his food.
He actually informed me that this resulted in him being hospitalised twice, with severe food poisoning, because he had devoured food which was “off“!
I now acutely realise just how easily this could happen to those of us whose sampling senses are no longer operating at anything near full power.
Accordingly, we almost tasteless brothers would dearly like to know if there are any or many other men and women out there today in the same situation as us.
If you can no longer fully enjoy a good steak or the flavour of the red wine, or the chicken curry for that matter, we would love to learn that we are not alone via, ideally, the email address above.
And maybe some of you could tell us if there is any kind of cure, orthodox or alternative or herbal, which would help our noses and tongues to work properly again.
We thank ye in advance!
