A Taste of the Holidays

I haven’t had a seizure since Christmas Day, when I had one (?)/two (?) while visiting my mother. I’m always happy to report measurable periods of time without seizures, as it makes me feel like the medications have an occasional success rate, and that thing called hope is real.

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But here’s a fun new symptom that is remarkably hard to explain, and makes that little bird called hope fly off into the sunset. It’s hideous, monstrous, and impossible to eliminate. Every second of every day, I have this taste in my mouth, coupled with this oxymoronic sensation of dryness and salivation. There is a salty undercurrent of the taste, with a strong punch of sulfur, and notes of something sweet – too sweet – ghastly sweet. Honestly, it tastes like the aftermath of a night packed with heavy drinking, followed by heavier vomiting. The kind of residue left in your mouth that only red-wine vomit can leave, the kind you cannot erase, not with toothpaste, mouthwash, food, or any other kind of drink. The kind you smell in your nose because you vomited so hard. The kind that seems to follow you like a perfume, infecting your desk space, your seat on the train, etc. The kind you just have to sit with for the day to remind yourself not to drink so much again. The kind that seems like karmic punishment.

There is a single saving grace to this predicament; no one has said anything about what I imagine must be my rancid breath.  I am drinking water and snacking on mints and tea in an attempt to not be a horrible colleague, but I’m paranoid that the kindness of my coworkers masks their disgust. I can report no change, via the mints and tea, so logic would suggest that these are not proving effective antidotes. So now I feel even more gross and weird than I did before, when I was just the girl that might, out of nowhere, have a seizure.

What makes the sensation even stranger is that I taste it in EVERYTHING I eat. It ruins every single bite of food, layering it with this awful taste of decay and rot. The saliva is thicker, and actually feels like it’s coating the food, glazing it like a stale donut. The chinese food I ate for lunch yesterday tasted like vomit. The chips and salsa I tried to eat after that, and dinner following that. The Starbucks double shot I had his morning, and even the apple juice I used to knock down my ten pills this morning. There is not a food or drink I can imagine that wouldn’t taste like rotting flesh, not a single choice I could think to make to break the cycle.  Even the pad thai I had for lunch today, perhaps my favorite food on God’s green earth, tasted putrid and rancid. I downed a bag of doritos, which in itself a rancid, overly processed mess of fake food, and it seemed to help tone down the horrible taste.

"Security Blanket"

And I haven’t done anything differently than I have since I started the meds. Nothing has changed in my daily routine, my eating habits have been consistently strange (but at least consistent, and include real food, doritos not included). I have even had dry mouth before, from both medications and illnesses. I have even had pervasive dry mouth from taking too much benedryl a few summers ago (this can happen, no joke, and is super dangerous). But this is not that kind of problem. This doesn’t go away, no matter what I try to do. Not even Susan’s peanut butter balls, one of the only holiday sweets I really, really enjoy, could assay the taste or make me feel better about my life.

I’ve watched a lot of “Monsters Inside Me,” as a medical freak, and have been called a “hypochondriac” by many, many people. I tend to jump to conclusions that are absurd, acting more of an alarmist than a realist. In fairness to me, I grew up in a house in which this reaction was endorsed, because the people closest to me became inexplicably gravely ill. However, I hold a level of self-awareness that makes me suspicious of my tendencies of (worst-case) self-diagnosis.

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But during one particular episode of “Monsters Inside Me”, which I believe focused on an individual with some kind of parasitic encephalitis, the patient reported a similar sensation of a decaying taste in her mouth that wouldn’t quit. This is no way to say I think I have a parasite or encephalitis. But, brain disease is brain disease, and a swollen brain can be caused by a plethora of ailments. Encephalitis is, scarily enough, fairly common. But the new symptom I am reporting, coupled with the increasing difficulty maintaining clear vision, and the remaining symptoms I’ve been reporting, is troubling.

Who doesn't love this cute little guy?

 And knowing that this may be a sign that my condition, despite the medical interventions I have sought, continues to decline is even more scary to me, since I’m so happy at my new job, and leap closer to my February wedding. This new symptom could be nothing, or it could be something, and I’m aware of my propensity to jump immediately to “something.” But, it’s annoying, obstructive, and hopping around the back of my mind like the March Hare. The taste creates the urgency – I have known that something is wrong, and now I know that there is something else wrong. At best, it’s annoying to experience. At worst – well - luckily I only have one more day before I interrogate the shit out of my sweet natured neurologist and try not to act like the crazy person I feel I am becoming.