Greetings to you on this sultry (U.S.) Saturday morning!
You know, I've long been fascinated by the five senses.
I refer now and then to such things as having "a nose like a bloodhound," or a "bionic nose." By this, I mean that a chemically sensitive person often develops an extremely heightened sense of smell. Conversely, toxic injury can also cause the sense of smell to decrease. In my own case, the sense of smell has increased exponentially. I was not born this way. The physical, sensory difference between "now" and "then" is staggering, approaching the mind-bending quality of science fiction.
You know, I've long been fascinated by the five senses.
I refer now and then to such things as having "a nose like a bloodhound," or a "bionic nose." By this, I mean that a chemically sensitive person often develops an extremely heightened sense of smell. Conversely, toxic injury can also cause the sense of smell to decrease. In my own case, the sense of smell has increased exponentially. I was not born this way. The physical, sensory difference between "now" and "then" is staggering, approaching the mind-bending quality of science fiction.
Having loved perfumes/colognes as a child and young lady, I now smell more of the base chemicals and less of the fragrances. Or, the base chemicals intertwine with the intended scent and cheapen it for me. I perceive, or even remember precisely in some cases, exactly where the scent is "going" -- but for me, it no longer "gets there."
Finally, when I'm around some fragrances and most hair treatments (hair sprays/gels/dyes), I smell only the chemical base. It's most peculiar to find myself at a gathering where another woman mentions, for instance, that she's wearing her "favorite fragrance" -- and the fragrance happens to make me gasp with horror because, to me, it smells like ammonia or a pesticide. In such cases, physical instinct (the way my face starts to feel instantly) screams at me to move far, far away. But sometimes I can't get "far, far away." This leaves me conversing and honing my acting abilities at the same time.
If only I could make a movie to convey the feelings of incredulousness and absurdity that come over me on such occasions! To do this, I'd have to film an actress spraying disinfectant on her hair, dabbing on some wasp repellent for "fragrance," then going forth to greet her guests with a smile . . . . . I kid you not. Despite my knowledge that base chemicals, for me, can blot out the intended signature scent, I have still found myself puzzling, on more than one occasion, as to why this or that lovely lady would have chosen to wear a fragrance that smelled exactly like a tub-and-tile cleaner.
Moving on to synthetic laundry fragrances -- these are the most vitriolic to me. I can tolerate many perfumes/colognes without excessive amounts of residual damage afterwards; but synthetic laundry fragrances just make my head spin. They are incredibly powerful and far-reaching. I catch them in the air even while driving in my car. They can cover large expanses of road when emanating from dryer vents. Some of them penetrate even the closed air vents of the car, in which case I try to inhale as few times as possible, hoping never to get stuck in such a place. ("Such a place," mind you, being an ordinary neighborhood of homes with dryer vents. The very simplicity and unavoidable frequency of such venues -- so innocuous in all other ways -- only increases the peril.) Synthetic laundry scents have a caustic, burning, "peppery" quality. I can describe them this way because along with the heightened sense of smell comes a sense of the "texture" of the molecules. Many times I can taste the smell, as well.
Finally, when I'm around some fragrances and most hair treatments (hair sprays/gels/dyes), I smell only the chemical base. It's most peculiar to find myself at a gathering where another woman mentions, for instance, that she's wearing her "favorite fragrance" -- and the fragrance happens to make me gasp with horror because, to me, it smells like ammonia or a pesticide. In such cases, physical instinct (the way my face starts to feel instantly) screams at me to move far, far away. But sometimes I can't get "far, far away." This leaves me conversing and honing my acting abilities at the same time.
If only I could make a movie to convey the feelings of incredulousness and absurdity that come over me on such occasions! To do this, I'd have to film an actress spraying disinfectant on her hair, dabbing on some wasp repellent for "fragrance," then going forth to greet her guests with a smile . . . . . I kid you not. Despite my knowledge that base chemicals, for me, can blot out the intended signature scent, I have still found myself puzzling, on more than one occasion, as to why this or that lovely lady would have chosen to wear a fragrance that smelled exactly like a tub-and-tile cleaner.
Moving on to synthetic laundry fragrances -- these are the most vitriolic to me. I can tolerate many perfumes/colognes without excessive amounts of residual damage afterwards; but synthetic laundry fragrances just make my head spin. They are incredibly powerful and far-reaching. I catch them in the air even while driving in my car. They can cover large expanses of road when emanating from dryer vents. Some of them penetrate even the closed air vents of the car, in which case I try to inhale as few times as possible, hoping never to get stuck in such a place. ("Such a place," mind you, being an ordinary neighborhood of homes with dryer vents. The very simplicity and unavoidable frequency of such venues -- so innocuous in all other ways -- only increases the peril.) Synthetic laundry scents have a caustic, burning, "peppery" quality. I can describe them this way because along with the heightened sense of smell comes a sense of the "texture" of the molecules. Many times I can taste the smell, as well.
Removing myself from the polluted venue is the first step; however, there is yet another effect of an amplified sense of smell: The chemical scent remains in the nose, at times, for hours or days after exposure.
In short, the chemically sensitive person can become a walking "echo" of the synthetic scents to which he has recently been exposed.
To give yet another example of this physiological "echo," the neurotoxins (nerve toxins) in synthetic laundry fragrances, non-organic dry-cleaning solutions, and chlorine can have jarring reverberations on the central nervous system. They can turn the usual operations of the nervous system "up" to a higher (and discomfiting) degree as though generating continual low-level seizures throughout the body. I, myself, begin to experience a strong pulse over my nose and a vibration, or "buzzing," of this same pulse throughout my body -- as though someone had plugged me into an electrical socket. I then feel physically shaky inside, with a bodily tremor not visible to others. I, however, perceive a slight shaking of my hands when I go to grasp or arrange objects. Playing the piano, setting the table, coordinating steps of activities either mentally or physically -- these things become neurologically and cognitively challenging. My vision, also, begins to shake up and down rapidly, with some blurring; and my central nervous system feels "all revved up."
It should frighten me, but it doesn't. I'm too used to it. At the same time, I begin to feel slightly "drunk" and sleepy (a heightened pulse beneath stupefying fatigue), so any thoughts of apprehension don't have the energy to persist, anyway.
I appreciate, however, how such complications could worsen in the future. As the "canary in the coal mine," I can report to you that the toxins in these products are severe, indeed -- and perhaps just as severe, later on, to those who cannot feel their "echo" as I do and who therefore immerse themselves in them as a way of life -- eventually developing cancer or Parkinson's or some other progressive, devastating disorder. It is my firm belief that the role of pervasive common chemicals is not appreciated in the etiology of these life-threatening developments.
I've touched upon smell, sight, taste, and the "texture" of synthetic-scent molecules -- but what of the sense of hearing? This, too, has become more acute for me in my toxically injured state. Is this, then, also connected to the phenomenon of chemical sensitivity? I honestly do not know. I know only that I often have to cover at least one ear at social gatherings which include amplified music, if I get too close to the source of the sound.
If you look at all of this through a different lens, it begins to approach some of the heightened sensory experiences of the autistic person -- or, more scientifically stated, of what is presently called "autism" in many persons who happen also to experience such things (in addition to cognitive, speech, and other physiological differences).
I strongly suspect that there is much uncultivated ground between the topics of toxic injury and at least some of the physiological phenomena which occur under the umbrella of "autism" . . . with possibly some related causal factors behind each.
I've explained these peculiar sensory developments, above, in order to shorten the process of identification for those who might be becoming chemically sensitive. So many aspects of functioning can be affected by chemical sensitivity; if you chase down each symptom, you still might not find any answer beyond the obvious categorizing of each symptom into a medically recognized disorder or two. These medical disorders might, in fact, be real -- but are the triggers, or causes, of the disorders properly appreciated? If they are not recognized and appreciated, then the understanding of the disorders is compromised: Their occurrence and progression will appear to be more random than they really are. If you never recognize that you're reacting to chemicals (in those cases when you actually are), then how can you defend your body against the effects of their repeated assaults?
If one's sense of smell is beginning to increase in the strange and noticeable ways described above, this could be a red flag alerting one to the possibility of chemical exposures as a cause. Other things, of course, can contribute to an altered sense of smell. The implications of such other causes can be serious. Tracking one's own chemical exposures and (possible) follow-up symptoms, however, is a simple and completely cost-free way to begin digging for causes. This "tool" is available to everyone immediately. The window of heightened symptoms generally occurs, in my own case, anywhere between a few minutes to two days after exposure to a triggering chemical.
Tracking chemical exposures and symptoms is neither convenient nor fun. Still, I would be remiss if I did not suggest it as a way to gain valuable -- and perhaps life-prolonging -- information. The next step would be to educate oneself as thoroughly as possible on the potentially "triggering" chemicals present in many common products. Please make liberal use of the information tabs, above. I am always searching for new pieces of research and anecdotal reporting to add to these link lists.
In the meantime, cheers (!) and a comfortably cool weekend to you --
~ Carolyn
If one's sense of smell is beginning to increase in the strange and noticeable ways described above, this could be a red flag alerting one to the possibility of chemical exposures as a cause. Other things, of course, can contribute to an altered sense of smell. The implications of such other causes can be serious. Tracking one's own chemical exposures and (possible) follow-up symptoms, however, is a simple and completely cost-free way to begin digging for causes. This "tool" is available to everyone immediately. The window of heightened symptoms generally occurs, in my own case, anywhere between a few minutes to two days after exposure to a triggering chemical.
Tracking chemical exposures and symptoms is neither convenient nor fun. Still, I would be remiss if I did not suggest it as a way to gain valuable -- and perhaps life-prolonging -- information. The next step would be to educate oneself as thoroughly as possible on the potentially "triggering" chemicals present in many common products. Please make liberal use of the information tabs, above. I am always searching for new pieces of research and anecdotal reporting to add to these link lists.
In the meantime, cheers (!) and a comfortably cool weekend to you --
~ Carolyn
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