I’ve been extremely sensitive to cigarette smoke for more than half my life. It gives me a headache within minutes. It aggravates my sinuses and makes them swell. It makes my lungs seize. It makes me cough like I’m going to expel my lungs clear out of my chest. That same coughing yanks at my gag reflex and stomach in ways I don’t care to discuss. It’s not fun. I avoid it at all costs best I can.
I grew up with parents who were smokers. Hell, my mom smoked through all four of her pregnancies. Which could explain why all four of her kids have varying degrees of asthma problems. She quit smoking altogether when I was about ten years old. My dad on the other hand, didn’t quit until just a couple of years ago after two strokes and brain surgery to repair an aneurysm finally put the fear of God in him.
Even though I’ve always lived with smokers, I’ve managed to keep separate from them when they’re actually smoking for a number of years. And since we’ve lived in the townhouse we’re currently in, no one actually smokes in the house.
So imagine my confusion when late last summer I suddenly started smelling strong cigarette smoke in my bedroom at all hours of the day and night. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear someone was smoking right outside my door. But Bob never smelled it, and he is usually pretty sensitive to smoke too. I thought I had to be crazy. And I would have been completely convinced of this if it wasn’t aggravating my sinuses like real smoke does.
When I returned to my psychiatrist earlier this year, she ran through her usual line of questions and when she came to one I’d always answered “no” to, I paused.
She asked if I experienced any hallucinations. I wasn’t sure if it could be considered a hallucination, but I was smelling cigarette smoke that I was pretty sure wasn’t actually there. Especially if Bob never smelled it. She asked me if I get a lot of headaches, if I get migraines. Oh yes. Those are things I know all too well. I don’t suffer them nearly as much as I used to, especially since I no longer work for the Toxic Shit Hole™, but I’ve dealt with migraines for years and headaches all my life. She told me that a lot of people are prone to olfactory auras preceding their migraines, especially ones that smell like smoke or something else burning. My phantom smoke smell was more than likely related to that.
One of the medications I’ve been taking for the past year for my crazy head has a multitude of uses. In addition to controlling my crazy-psycho-bitch-trainwreck-moodswings, (oh, Topamax) it’s also used in the prevention of migraines. She was already planning on increasing my dose for my mood issues, but she told me it should also help eliminate, or at least reduce, the phantom smoke issue as well.
And it did. It practically eliminated the mystery smell altogether.
For awhile.
But the past couple of weeks have seen the return of the phantom smoke smell and it is back with a vengeance. And I’m paranoid that I’m going to get knocked on my ass with a mother of a migraine when I least expect it.
So far I haven’t had much in the realm of headaches, maybe a dull ache here and there, but my sinuses are revolting.
I go back to see my psychiatrist on the 30th for a med check. In addition to telling her that the Ritalin experiment has failed miserably, I suppose I should bring up that the phantom smoke smell is back again.
And so continues the saga. The great mental health debacle…three years and counting.
—
 |
Solsbury Hill Ingram Hill |