life radically poorer. He missed the smell of people, of books, of the city, of springtime. He hoped against hope that the lost sense would return. And, indeed, it seemed to come back some months later when, to his surprise and delight, he smelled his morning coffee as it was brewing. Tentatively, he tried his pipe, abandoned for many months, and caught a whiff of his favorite aromatic tobacco. He returned, excitedly, to his neurologist, but after careful testing, he was told that there was not a trace of recovery. Clearly, though, he was having an olfactory experience of some sort, and I could only think that his power to imagine smells, at least in situations charged with memories and associations, had been enhanced by his anosmia, perhaps as the power to visualize may be enhanced in some who have lost their sight.
T he heightened sensitivity of sensory systems when they have lost their normal input of sight, smell, or sound is not an unmixed blessing, for it may lead to hallucinations of sight, smell, or sound—phantopsia, phantosmia, or phantacusis, to use the old but useful terms. And just as 10 to 20 percent of those who lose their sight get Charles Bonnet syndrome, a similar percentage of those who lose their sense of smell experience the olfactory equivalent. In some cases these phantom smells follow sinus infections or head injuries, but occasionally they are associated with migraine, epilepsy, parkinsonism, PTSD, or other conditions. 2
In CBS, if there is some remaining vision, there may also beperceptual distortions of all sorts. Similarly, those who have lost much but not all of their sense of smell tend to suffer from distortions of smell, often of an unpleasant sort (a condition called parosmia or dysosmia).
Mary B., a Canadian woman, acquired dysosmia two months after an operation performed under general anesthesia. Eight years later, she sent me a detailed account of her experiences, entitled “A Phantom in My Brain.” She wrote:
It happened fast. In September 1999 I felt great. I’d had a hysterectomy in the summer, but I was already back to daily Pilates and ballet classes, feeling fit and full of vigour. Four months later I was still fit and vigorous, but I was locked in an invisible prison by a disorder no one could see, that no one seemed to know anything about, that I couldn’t even find a name for.
The changes were gradual at first. In September tomatoes and oranges started tasting metallic and a bit rotten, and cottage cheese tasted like sour milk. I tried different brands; they were all bad.
During October, lettuce began to smell and taste of turpentine, and spinach, apples, carrots and cauliflower tasted slightly rotten. Fish and meat, especially chicken, smelt as if they’d been rotting for a week. My partner couldn’t detect the off tastes at all. Was I developing some sort of food allergy?…
Soon the exhaust fans of restaurant kitchens started smelling weirdly unpleasant. Bread tasted rancid; chocolate, like machine oil. The only meat or fish I could eat was smoked salmon. I started having it three times a week. In early December we ate out with friends. I had to choose carefully, but I enjoyed the meal, except that the mineral water smelt likebleach. But the others were drinking it happily, and I decided that my glass hadn’t been rinsed properly. Smells and tastes got dramatically worse in the next week. Traffic smelt so bad that I had to force myself to go out; I made long detours to go to my Pilates and ballet classes by pedestrian-only routes. Wine smelt revolting; so did anybody who was wearing scent. The smell of Ian’s morning coffee had been getting worse, but between one day and the next it turned into a lurid, intolerable stench that permeated the house and lingered for hours. He started having coffee at work.
Ms. B. kept careful notes, hoping to find, if not an explanation, at least some pattern to the distortions, but she could find none. “There was no rhyme or
T he heightened sensitivity of sensory systems when they have lost their normal input of sight, smell, or sound is not an unmixed blessing, for it may lead to hallucinations of sight, smell, or sound—phantopsia, phantosmia, or phantacusis, to use the old but useful terms. And just as 10 to 20 percent of those who lose their sight get Charles Bonnet syndrome, a similar percentage of those who lose their sense of smell experience the olfactory equivalent. In some cases these phantom smells follow sinus infections or head injuries, but occasionally they are associated with migraine, epilepsy, parkinsonism, PTSD, or other conditions. 2
In CBS, if there is some remaining vision, there may also beperceptual distortions of all sorts. Similarly, those who have lost much but not all of their sense of smell tend to suffer from distortions of smell, often of an unpleasant sort (a condition called parosmia or dysosmia).
Mary B., a Canadian woman, acquired dysosmia two months after an operation performed under general anesthesia. Eight years later, she sent me a detailed account of her experiences, entitled “A Phantom in My Brain.” She wrote:
It happened fast. In September 1999 I felt great. I’d had a hysterectomy in the summer, but I was already back to daily Pilates and ballet classes, feeling fit and full of vigour. Four months later I was still fit and vigorous, but I was locked in an invisible prison by a disorder no one could see, that no one seemed to know anything about, that I couldn’t even find a name for.
The changes were gradual at first. In September tomatoes and oranges started tasting metallic and a bit rotten, and cottage cheese tasted like sour milk. I tried different brands; they were all bad.
During October, lettuce began to smell and taste of turpentine, and spinach, apples, carrots and cauliflower tasted slightly rotten. Fish and meat, especially chicken, smelt as if they’d been rotting for a week. My partner couldn’t detect the off tastes at all. Was I developing some sort of food allergy?…
Soon the exhaust fans of restaurant kitchens started smelling weirdly unpleasant. Bread tasted rancid; chocolate, like machine oil. The only meat or fish I could eat was smoked salmon. I started having it three times a week. In early December we ate out with friends. I had to choose carefully, but I enjoyed the meal, except that the mineral water smelt likebleach. But the others were drinking it happily, and I decided that my glass hadn’t been rinsed properly. Smells and tastes got dramatically worse in the next week. Traffic smelt so bad that I had to force myself to go out; I made long detours to go to my Pilates and ballet classes by pedestrian-only routes. Wine smelt revolting; so did anybody who was wearing scent. The smell of Ian’s morning coffee had been getting worse, but between one day and the next it turned into a lurid, intolerable stench that permeated the house and lingered for hours. He started having coffee at work.
Ms. B. kept careful notes, hoping to find, if not an explanation, at least some pattern to the distortions, but she could find none. “There was no rhyme or
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