I never realized the power of smells until I got sick. I can't smell popcorn anymore without wanting to throw up. My mother was sitting in the back seat of the car, eating a whole bag of it when I got diagnosed. She also had this weird purple thing tied to the back of the front seat which she proceeded to put the totally not empty bag into and leave it there so every time we drove to the hospital, I smelled popcorn. I have some trouble at the movie theatre.

I also had to get rid of many of my once-favorite perfumes. The very thought of them often led to some time of bought with an upset stomach, but the actual smell of them completely set me off. So I sold my J'Adore, Versace Baby Rose Jeans, Dyptique L'ombre Dans Eau (I think that's how it's spelled) and Bvlgari on ebay. I named them so you can see that I actually had nice perfumes. and it wasn't because I was spritzing on some Jean Nate that I was in a dire need to get rid of them. I couldn't stand the smell of my mother's favorite perfume, Clinique Wrappings, either. It made me so sick. I would beg her to not put it on when I was at their house. But the worst part was that a coworker wore it, and has this tendency to be a close talker and I am pretty sure the revulsion would show on my face when she was attempting to be kind to me. I'm pretty sure she hates me now.

I also couldn't stand the thought of foods. Pasta? Ew. Pizza? My Brooklyn roots were betrayed cause absolutely not. Eggs? Not a chance in hell. I wasn't getting enough protein so my mother was sneaking some Atkins protein powder into my shakes. The problem was that the powder was Cappuccino flavored and she was giving me fruit shakes and it was the most horrible, distinctive taste you could possibly imagine. Once I refused to touch them, she started giving me ice cream shakes and then, I could only barely taste the protein powder. My mom was sneaky like that. But truthfully, so many things would have a strange effect on me, it was amazing that I ate at all. I hear that some people wind up with an aversion to meat. Not me. I wanted meatballs, like all the time. And rice pudding. I was living on those two items for quite some time. Then my mother bought some Boost and that was okay, if a bit thick. then she tried that Carnation Instant Breakfast, in Skim Milk, and just...no. It was pretty horrible actually. I appreciated the effort to make sure I was getting nutrients but the experiments were starting to make me feel worse than the chemo.

The best was when I was in the hospital and I simply would not eat the lunch or dinner they brought by. People would be in my room saying, "But it looks so good! I'm sure it's great" and I'd be all like, "Sure then you eat it." And then the shifting in the seat and the averting of the eyes would start and they'd hem and haw about how they just finished eating or were heading out to eat and I'd be like, "Yeah. I thought so." However, my uncle, who is notorious for eating everything and everything and being very protective of his food is a different story. He called on his way to visit me and asked if I wanted any outside food. He had discovered early on in my illness that we had a love of food in common (he actually said, "wow this is great. We can talk about food!" and I was like, "uh, yeah, I have other interests too, but food! yeah! safe topic"). i told him I was craving some Burger King. He promised to show up with a Whopper and Fries. I was so excited! However, when he arrived he had no food with him and I had just sent the food tray back. I looked at him (and he had come with his wife) confused and somewhat betrayed. The poor man was so hungry that he beligerantly asked me where my hospital food was. When I told him I had sent it back because it was gross and I wouldn't eat it, his wife was said in a really snotty tone "Well, he would've; he's obviously very hungry. Why would you waste food like that?." Lady. I've got a million drugs in me, have a 90 year old morphine addict for a roommate, have had people waking me up every three hours, so I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in almost a week and you're berating me for sending my food tray back because you and my uncle (who I love dearly) arrived empty handed? The hell? And that whopper was something I was really looking forward to. I have yet to decipher the mystery of why the burger and fries did not come with their visit, and I probably don't want to know the reason. However, the moral of the story is this: ALWAYS BRING FOOD. It'll always be welcome and when someone in the hospital specifically asks for something--stop of and get it. Because there is only so much Jell-O, yogurt muffins and very unique looking lasagna that one person can take.