Thursday, December 21, 2017

The Great Wall of China
30. Fourteen Weeks Later

So far, I have been lucky enough to avoid most of the side effects of getting my brain cut open. I don't think my personality has changed, but how would I know? I have people around me keeping an eye on me. No one has told me that I have changed, but maybe they have and I always tune it out. Or maybe I'm in a coma right now and this is all a dream. Then again, we could all be living in a computer simulation or some alien world's zoo. Maybe the crazy people are sane and the rest of us are crazy. Brains are funny. I think zombies should go for hearts instead.

The incision is mostly covered by my growing hair, but still numb. My scalp over the plates itches pretty much every day. Not scratching it takes pure willpower. I also get large flakes of dead skin falling off my head, like I have a serious case of dandruff. That and the scratching probably does not look so good in public. I have several hats, all of which are too hot for Hong Kong. Toques are ideal following brain surgery, but not at all designed for subtropical climates. Fortunately, the humidity will drop dramatically between now and February. If you are forced to wear a hat in Hong Kong, winter is the best time. I can't say there is ever a best time to have a craniotomy, but as far as the weather goes, this is it.

Every once in a while, generally once or twice a day, I feel earthquakes. Not full blown, computer animation Golden Gate Bridge collapsing earthquakes. It is always that split second when you think what you feel might be an earthquake, before everything starts to shake, rattle and roll. I know intellectually that they are not actual earthquakes, but for that fraction of a second, I stop and wait. I am convinced that if I say the word “earthquake” out loud, that will prevent an actual earthquake. That concerned my roommates in the beginning, but having felt nothing themselves, they are used to it by now. The funny part is, Hong Kong very rarely has any earthquakes that are large enough for anyone to notice. Most of the shaking anyone can remember was from other parts of southern China or Japan.

Less troubling, but no less annoying, I see gnats. Frequently. They come and go as quickly as the earthquakes, but jump in front of my face far more often. The worst part is that I can't tell right away if they are imaginary gnats or genuine mosquitoes. If a massive earthquake ever tears our building down, we will probably die right away, but mosquitoes torture you slowly and deliberately.

I still have no sense of smell. It is pretty strange to experience and hard to describe. Sometimes I never even notice until I suddenly realize that something is missing. I suppose if you have to lose a sense, smell is probably the best one. I can't imagine being blind or deaf. It would be extremely difficult to live here, and I don't know if I would. My career would be over. Not having a sense of touch would have to be the most surreal experience. Not only would you never feel another person, but you would not even feel a cup in your hands. You would probably drop things and fall down a lot. I would be too terrified to use a knife in the kitchen.

I was walking around outdoors yesterday and as I felt a gentle breeze on my skin, I wondered if I would be able to sense storms coming. Usually, you can tell when a typhoon or some other major storm is approaching. But is that just atmospheric pressure or does smell have anything to do with it? I guess we will have to wait and see.

I think the worst part about not being able to smell anything is that it also affects taste. Food is important in life. Obviously, I can still eat, but it means nothing to me. I have had no appetite since the accident. I still eat my favorite foods out of habit, but they could easily be replaced and I would never know.

Then there are flowers. I have always wanted to go back to Amsterdam. I went a few years ago and it was one of my favorite vacations. Not only does Amsterdam have the Bloemenmarkt, but the Keukenhof is nearby and there are vast fields in Noordoostpolder. I think it would be heartbreaking to go and not be able to smell anything.

On the plus side, the streets of China never smelled like perfume. Smog is not fake news and pretty much everyone smokes. I have always avoided smokers, which is difficult in a place like China. I used to smell them a mile away. Now, I have no idea if the person who got on the elevator is a smoker or not. I still see their little clouds of poison everywhere I go, but for the first time since moving to China, I can walk more than two steps without that horrid stench.

And maybe now I can finally try to eat stinky tofu.


The Great Wall of China part 1

2 comments:

  1. That's great that you can't smell smokers. They smell gross and don't even know it. That's worse than someone who knows they smell bad. My worry is that if you can't smell it you'll be exposed to it more. It's still poison whether you smell it or not. Be careful.

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    Replies
    1. If a smoker gets on the elevator, I can't tell anymore, but when people are smoking in the street, I can still see their puffs of poison. I know how to avoid them.

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