Being diagnosed after so many false starts was a pretty euphoric moment - at last I knew!
But darkness was just around the corner.
As I have said earlier in this blog I had an inkling that something was wrong, my Mum had Parkinson’s so it always crossed my mind that I might have it bearing in mind early symptoms, and a very good friend, who was diagnosed about six years before me, remarked that I walked like someone with Parkinson’s.
So while the diagnosis was generally positive, there was a sucker punch, almost as a by the way the consultant asked me about my sense of smell. I hadn’t really noticed or was conscious of it until he asked, and if I did I attributed it to Covid (which I hadn’t had ).
It hit me hard - I love cooking and I love food: the delicious aromas emanating from a bowl of penne with bolognese sauce (pictured; NB while all the pictures are black and white, I think this one has even more meaning, the monotone emphasises the lack of smell), a tempting roast lamb or the amazing smell of bacon frying didn’t register in the nose at all.
My sense of taste was impaired too. I found this out when the family complained some of my dishes were way too hot and spicy
Luckily for family and visitors I still had the knack of producing delicious, perfectly seasoned food, and went easy on the chilli.
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