My really long, dramatic, final post about how I appreciate my senses and Ackerman
Over the past month, I got really sick. It got to the point where they thought I had gotten the coronavirus and I spent a really “wonderful” day visiting 2 hospitals and being put in the COVID section. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t open my eyes to see because light would send piercing pain throughout my head. I got accustomed to being wrapped in a blanket when I got intense chills. I couldn’t smell because of my stuffed up nose. I was used to hearing my doctor on the phone asking the question, “have you been in contact with anyone who has been investigated for corona?” My senses were overloaded and not working at the same time. I couldn’t enjoy what I used to enjoy.
Have no fear, I did not have the corona. Instead, I got a really fun case of mono. How’d I get that in quarantine? I have no idea. Already being chronically ill, getting any other disease makes it feel ten times worse.
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| The view I had of my crocs in hospital room #2 |
All I wanted was to go back to eating the fajitas my dad makes. I wanted to go on my daily runs where my feet hit the ground for six miles and the only time I’d pause my music was to wave and say hi to the old lady who sits in her garage. I wanted to hear laughter instead of my brother telling me I looked dead.
Not having my senses being “normal” was really hard. After we have a cold and our noses are stuffed up, we realize we take for granted being able to breathe through our nose and smell things. Then we forget about it and go back to taking it for granted. I realized I took my five senses for granted.
Now that I’m much better besides being exhausted 24/7, I make sure to appreciate my senses. I enjoy the honey I put on my oatmeal. I smile when I hear and see the kids running around in the neighborhoods I now “power walk” in since I can’t run because of my enlarged spleen and liver (super cool mono stuff!). I am happy that when I smell food it doesn’t make me nauseous. I’m glad that I don’t feel the pain of my spleen every time I breathe, burp, walk, and laugh.
This class made me aware of my senses, but it took a couple hospital visits and two scary weeks to appreciate my senses. If you think I’m being dramatic, just ask my family. They won’t spare any detail of how awful I looked. In fact, they might enjoy telling you how miserable I was and looked.
Despite being sick and not knowing what was wrong and facing the fear that I could have somehow gotten the coronavirus despite being in my house for 2 months, the scariest part was when I was in radiology and they wouldn’t let me leave because they were transporting a COVID positive patient. Although I could not see anything, I could hear it. I heard the beeping of the patient’s heart rate, the nurses calm yet deliberate with strong voices, the sound of the machines helping the patient breathe. I’m not going to lie, it was a really big dose of reality despite the fact that I was following all guidelines that the CDC gave.
Going through my notes to find out what book I wanted to write about last, I found a quote I had written down during what I think was our first class. To me, it seems fitting that it’s the last quote I’ll write for this class and that it eerily goes well with the situation I faced through a door. I also find it ironic that it’s from the book that I didn’t want to pick up, Ackerman's Natural History of the Senses. We all know my lovely opinions about this book.
“Breath comes in pairs, except at two times in our lives -- the beginning and the end.” (Ackerman 6)
I hope that the patient is well into recovery as I write this.
With classes coming to a close and my restaurant still closed, maybe I’ll reread Ackerman’s book with fewer eye rolls and some more appreciation. Appreciation for the quote on page 6, for being able to see the book, feel the pages, hear the page turn, and to be able to smell and taste the tea I’ll make when I sit down to read it again.
This isn’t a post so much about the overall content in Ackerman’s book, but a specific quote that’s pulling me back into reading it and giving me a little comfort in this time of craziness.
Stay safe, healthy, enjoy your senses, and maybe go back to a book you called trash.
This is a common example of "you never appreciate what you have until it's gone"! I have been so guilty of this when I get sick. The simple ability to breathe from both nostrils is not as appreciated until we're blowing our nose every other minute. This even reminds me of how much our tastebuds change when we are ill. I'm so used to the taste of buttered toast and gatorade when I'm sick that I can barely have it when I'm healthy! Hope you are feeling better!
ReplyDeleteThis is most certainly an interesting perspective that is hard to imagine before going through such a difficult situation. My wrap-up post also focused on the Ackerman book and I still hold negative opinions on the book but I did at least thank it for bringing a lot of us together and pushing us in directions where we could be more confidently critical on the human senses. I will definitely try and rethink how I have approached the book, I hope you get well.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry to hear that. However, it is rather interesting that even though we are often lucky enough to have plenty of sensory stimuli in our environment, we never truly understand it's value until we loose such capabilities. This incident certainly makes me think about how we can live during a pandemic, and how our senses(and the depreciated thereof) can cause one to enjoy life less. I hope you get well soon.
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