My son hated the hospital. I did not like it either, but that is another story! My son said that the smell was awful among other reasons.
The smell was awful.
The soap was "medical." And, because it was the hospital, that soap was everywhere. Before my stroke, I remembered that soap when I had to go to my doctor. I remembered that I thought this odor was obnoxious, and I scrubbed off the offending soap as soon as I could.
The stroke was bad enough but I could not stand their soap! And, because I could not communicate, I could not tell anyone what was bothering me about the soap. Of course, that is trivial considering that I had enough to worry about, but the smell was so bad.
I have described about my communication deficits, but who knew that I had a communication smell deficit as well! When you cannot communicate, you cannot describe in words about smells and tastes. Think about that? I did not.
There are some "apps" that stroke survivors use to help with descriptions when they cannot speak. Emotions, pain, tastes, smells, etc. I used some of those apps until I could communicate better.
But, just like a song that brings you back to a instance of your life, a smell can make a memory. A pot roast reminds me of my dad. A chocolate milk shake reminds me of my mom.
The soap that hospitals and doctors' offices use routinely is "standard" I guess.
For 18 days, I had to deal with their soap. My wife knew that something was bugging me. Finally, she had a "aha!" moment! She something like "Is the soap bothering you?"
YES!
So, my wonderful wife got soap from home for me to use.
I had a routine doctor's appointment the other day, and that bad soap was everywhere! It instantly flooded me with memories of the hospital.
All in all, I would rather have pot roast....
The smell was awful.
The soap was "medical." And, because it was the hospital, that soap was everywhere. Before my stroke, I remembered that soap when I had to go to my doctor. I remembered that I thought this odor was obnoxious, and I scrubbed off the offending soap as soon as I could.
The stroke was bad enough but I could not stand their soap! And, because I could not communicate, I could not tell anyone what was bothering me about the soap. Of course, that is trivial considering that I had enough to worry about, but the smell was so bad.
I have described about my communication deficits, but who knew that I had a communication smell deficit as well! When you cannot communicate, you cannot describe in words about smells and tastes. Think about that? I did not.
There are some "apps" that stroke survivors use to help with descriptions when they cannot speak. Emotions, pain, tastes, smells, etc. I used some of those apps until I could communicate better.
But, just like a song that brings you back to a instance of your life, a smell can make a memory. A pot roast reminds me of my dad. A chocolate milk shake reminds me of my mom.
The soap that hospitals and doctors' offices use routinely is "standard" I guess.
For 18 days, I had to deal with their soap. My wife knew that something was bugging me. Finally, she had a "aha!" moment! She something like "Is the soap bothering you?"
YES!
So, my wonderful wife got soap from home for me to use.
I had a routine doctor's appointment the other day, and that bad soap was everywhere! It instantly flooded me with memories of the hospital.
All in all, I would rather have pot roast....
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