“I think we may have lost our sense of smell and taste,” I told Mike the day after my fever broke and I started feeling like a person again.
“Why do you think that?” he asked as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.
“Well, I don’t like fish, but yesterday you made some and I ate it. I think I was able to eat it because I couldn’t taste it.” I pulled my soft blanket around me, thankful my chills had stopped and wishing the headache would also stop.
“I just thought the things we’ve been eating have been bland. Do you really think we can’t taste?”
“Yeah,” I nodded and instantly regretted the movement. “I think our other symptoms have just been so loud we didn’t notice we couldn’t taste.”
“You’re right!” Mike gasped. “This orange juice tastes like nothing. That’s why I couldn’t smell the flowers! I put my nose right in the bouquet that was delivered, and I couldn’t smell anything.”
“I know,” I smiled. “You have pollen on your cheeks.”
“Let’s do a taste test,” Mike said already halfway to the refrigerator. “Blindfold me, and feed me stuff.”
I’m embarrassed to say how much time we spent feeding Mike things he couldn’t taste while he was blindfolded. But I will say we will be doing it again tonight.