Let us cultivate our gardens

0

WHEN the API reached over 200 the day after Malaysia Day, my good friend texted me early in the morning “stay indoor, don’t run around” – knowing my “nose” problem.

It was (still is) hazy. The skin may irritate, the eyes may turn teary, the visual level reduced but the smoky and burning smell is not in the air.

We don’t rank smell very high among our other senses because it is hard to appreciate what it does for us – until it’s gone.

Indeed, if one has a hearing loss or loss of vision or speech, it speaks to the others around you loud and clear you have a problem.

But losing the sense of smell is a silent battle to fight on, and if you do not relate to others, you are fighting alone and nobody knows the uphill battle you are facing.

When you lose your sense of smell, it is called anosmia or we say we are smell-impaired.

Whatever it is, literally stopping to smell the roses is no longer a choice because it is impossible.

Cooking is no longer an enjoyment. Suddenly, you find all the spices, the sauces, the wine mean nothing to your cooking.

If you do not know, you can taste sweet, salty, bitter and sour with your tongue. More complex flavours – like barbecued steak, stewed lamb, butter cake, coffee or even kampua mee – depend on smell.

Baking is no more a relaxation and joy. One of the joys of baking is the aroma of bread or cake that wafer out from the oven. A cake is almost done when you start smelling the aroma – a seasoned baker could always get it right without a timer – the nose always gets it right.

The science of smell is relatively simple: odour molecules waft up the nose toward tiny strands of nerves in the upper nostrils called olfactory receptor neurons, which shoot scent signals to the brain for decoding – it’s coffee or butter!

I learned from my doctor that after a bad flu, those neurons inflamed and they died. You no longer have neurons sending scent signals to the brain to tell you the perfume is pleasant, seductive or simply delightful to the soul.

Or you could have an accident and knocked your head and you don’t smell anymore. Or you could have a tumour in your head.

But patients have no answer whether they would ever smell like before.

“You may get your smell back in six months or a year. Even so, it will be for certain percentage only – say 60 per cent is very optimistic already. Or you could never get it back,” said Dr Tang.

The cooking, the food, the perfume … it’s more than that.

The sense of smell is also related to memory. There is a direct connection between the smell pathways to memory. I can walk into a room and smell something that suddenly reminds me of a childhood memory or a precious moment, without having to see or hear anything.

I remember my mother smelled good. She was always clean and fresh. During my days in Singapore with her, when I woke up in the morning, she was usually done with her morning walk and morning shower.

There she sat at the dining table reading her Bible. It was always that fresh smell that greeted me every morning.

It is devastating to think if my mother stands before me today and I take a deep breath, and what would I say?

“Mama, you smell like everything else does, like er …. nothing,” I would probably say.

Without a doubt, smell allows you to relate to the world better, the way we process emotions and the sense of self and social interactions.

That’s quite a bit of ranting on a hazy day. But you just have to fight on – short of making excuses like how our neighbour’s  National Police Chief  was quoted as infamously saying “fighting forestry crimes (forest fires) is more complicated than fighting terrorism.”

The glimmer of hope is there are some promising signs. Strong-smelling things do produce a smell sensation although it is always the same. I believe this may be a sign some kind of repair to the system is going on.

Sometimes as I chew, odour molecules float up my throat and trigger those same olfactory nerves, my brain then combines taste and smell to create flavour.

A while ago, a friend posted this on her Facebook: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”

My Sunday school teacher, environmental activist Wong Meng Chuo is fighting Parkinson’s disease. He is leading an active life and has started an association to organise activities and educate other patients to lead a quality life.

Indeed, some things are done better by two people than one. Anything which is subject to human limitation or error requires the collegial presence of another person to ensure reliability and accountability.

Over the holiday on Thursday, I re-visited Voltaire’s Candide to re-learn this lesson of startling and amazing simplicity – let everyone cultivate their gardens.

Amidst the formation of a new opposition pact which has called itself  hopeful and the confusing announcements on UEC (Chinese independent school) qualification to enter Unimas, Candide seemed to say: “Do not pretend to change things you do not understand … but do change those you can and make every effort then.”

Another quote from the book: “Things cannot be otherwise than as they are – all being created for an end, all necessarily for the best end. Observe that the nose has been formed to bear spectacles – thus we have spectacles. Consequently those who assert all is well have said a foolish thing – they should have said all is for the best.”

Let Candide’s final words be a guiding light for reformers and optimists: “All that is very well but let us cultivate our garden.”

Indeed, let us all be like good gardeners!