Was anosmic, but now I smell--part II

I am not a religious person. Not particularly spiritual either, frankly. I'll admit a mild interest when Deepak Chopra natters on about layers and levels of consciousness, but when people ask me my religious views, I say "askance." I have to admit, though, that the events of the past 72 hours smack of a little deus ex machina.

Sunday: I wake up for Lumberjack breakfast feeling remarkably lucid, considering that the night before I'd had (and thrown up) enough whiskey to drown a hamster. The rest of the day leaks slowly downhill, and I'm pretty wobbly when I go to bed. But I can't fall asleep, because I'm seized with a sense of panic over my clogged nostrils. I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the need to clear them, because otherwise I will suffocate in my sleep. Has this happened to you? I've had a handful of these attacks, which started out of the blue about three years ago, and when they happen there's usually nothing to do but suck down some Rescue Remedy and watch DVDs until I pass out. Which I do, at 4:30am.

Monday: I e-mail work to say I won't be in. ("Sinus. Cough. Phlegm. Me die now.") Picture a gallon of petroleum jelly on a Lazy Susan doing a few hundred RPM; that's my morning. I gulp down another Styrofoam breakfast and head to the doctor, who hands me a scrip for a few Zithro pellets. While I'm waiting at the pharmacy, I pick up some nasal spray, two bags of lozenges, and some Cold and Sinus meds (for which I must sign my name and provide ID; people have bought plutonium with less hassle). My troop surge is ready, and the battle is joined. But for now I'm still in Food Jail, and I make a list of things I'm going to eat as soon as I can taste again.

Tuesday: Community service day at work, and a handful of us go to serve lunch at the Bowery Mission. I'm still blocked, but the phlegm is in retreat after the shock and awe of my medicinal assault, and I am deemed healthy enough to serve. The Mission is a wonderful facility that not only provides food, shelter, showers, and clothes for the homeless, but members in its six-month program can improve their lives through GED classes, computer training, and five daily hours of mass and Bible study. Everyone there knows they'll be OK, because Jesus Christ is shepherding them through the storm. The walls are filled with hand-drawn iconography, and the kitchen blasts nothing but choir-sung hymns on a boom box.

As I help prepare the meal (this is the first soup kitchen I've worked in that actually serves soup), the music reaches out and absorbs us all. Jesus Will Care For You. Glory of His Everlasting Love. Washed in the Blood of the Lamb. (Ew.) Everyone seems quite happy, blessed to be led by Jesus's hand and given a second chance. Right before service, our kitchen steward Harry hears me in a coughing fit (yes, I was away from the food) and says to be patient, for the Lord hears your pain and will heal you when it's time.

Then it's time to serve, and after about 15 minutes of working my ladle I am struck by a strange sensation. Is that ... rosemary? Sage? Sweet Mary Resplendent, is that roasted meat? I stand back, startled, feeling like George Bailey after Clarence gives him back his hearing. I can smell! I can smell! I have been touched by an angel, who has restored my senses and made me whole again! AND AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I'LL NEVER BE ANOSMIC AGAIN!!!

Or maybe it was just the steam from the soup. Hard to say, really.

Tonight: I make Daddy's Pork Chops for the boys. They are moist, and succulent, and I savor every last bite like I'm about to get the chair.

And ten minutes later, TwoBert fills his pants with as macabre a stew as you can fathom. Proof that the sword of salvation is double-edged.

Comments

[Muppet]

I had the flu in November and lost my hearing. The same glory was expressed when my ears finally popped again! Oh Glorious God!
You inspire me to work at a homeless shelter when we move back to the states.
Thank You ??!!!

[Helen]

LOD, that sounds like some cold. And the whole thing was another whopper of a lead in or whatever you call it to the punch. That one will be a favorite.

[You can call me, 'Sir']

Although I assume you mean poop, I can't help but picture the boy opening then emptying a can of Dinty Moore into his pants while smiling.

[Eric]

All of NYC is gripped by this amazing plague. It's swept my office, wiped me out last week. Swept my girlfriend's office of hundreds, knocking out tons of people. My office floor sounds like an infirmary with people coughing all day, myself included. It's a bad, bad season in this city. Take the flu shot while you can, before the government begins stockpiling ahead of Plague Phase II: Locusts!

[Alli]

Glad you're feeling better. Your sense of humor was not affected!

[Ely]

Sounds like an epic recovery. Glad you're feeling better!

Whenever I used to get sick, my mom would make stand over a boiling pot and breath in the steam. That, and a combination of sudafed and/or dayquil/nyquil and i'd be fine within a day.

About two months ago I thought i was getting a cold, and was in my dorm's kitchen going through my mom's remedy process. People thought i was cooking when they passed by...but when they actually saw what i was doing they probably thought i was crazy.

[Brenda]

I agree with what someone said in the first post: Only you could make this funny (or interesting, or something like that).

I would NEVER think this stuff is funny, but my kids are asking me why I'm laughing so hard!

Glad you're better. We just went through "the croupe." I have nothing funny to say about that! (Although I'm sure if it had been you, you would have a great deal interesting to report.)

[pnuts mama]

we were watching the news the other night reporting on an NYPD sting operation to acquire chlorine without any proof of anything- trucks would show up and drop off a couple 100 gallon tanks no questions asked to the undercover cops- anyway, all this to say, *they scan my license* when i want to buy claritin-D. sigh. not for nothing (my favorite phrase! ha!) but meth-heads are fairly easy to pick out of a crowd, what with the picked off skin on their faces and all. me? just puffy and stuffy, thanks.

glad you finally came to jesus and are feeling better. see? mike huckabee *is* on to something. argh.

[Value wIT]

Captivated by your stylistic description of sickness - makes me want to catch a virus just for the polarity of it all.

Glad you are better.