The Transformation of Rod - Part 6

Dr. Rogers took a small scissors and began cutting away the bandages around Rod's nose.  Rod closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.  He felt his heart pounding in his chest.  He was certain it was beating too fast, going into some sort of hyper drive, but the monitor by his bedside didn't raise any alarms.  Rod wondered if maybe he'd accidentally pulled a wire off.  No, then there would be no signal at all.  Maybe he was okay.  He just needed to calm down.  Still, Rod found it difficult to be calm.  In a few moments, he would learn his olfactory fate.  Would he have a full, normal sense of smell?  Or, would he have none at all?  Either outcome was distinctly different than what he'd known most of his life.  Rod waited.

The doctor removed the last of the bandages but Rod sensed that there was still something blocking his nose.  Apparently, he also had some sort of gauze stuffed up his nostrils.  Dr. Rogers put down the scissors and picked up a tweezers.

"Rod, are you ready?" Dr. Rogers asked.

Rod shook his head.

"Okay, Rod," the doctor continued, "I want you to have the plugs ready.  As I pull the gauze out, please continue to breathe through your mouth.  Once the gauze is out, I'd like you to very slowly try inhaling through your nose.  If you feel uncomfortable at all, switch to mouth breathing and use the plugs if you need to."

Rod nodded impatiently.  He was prepared.  He just wanted to get on with it.  Find out his fate.  Dr. Rogers nodded back at Rod and pulled out the gauze.  Rod waited a moment, holding his breath.  Then he exhaled through his mouth and slowly inhaled, mostly with his mouth but some through his nose.  Nothing, not even purple.

Rod exhaled through his nose and inhaled again, this time only through his nose.  Dr. Rogers stared at him expectantly.  Rod was about to tell him that the graft had failed when he detected something.  Faint, but he could definitely smell something.  Suddenly, he was overcome with smells, sweet, sour, acrid, fruity.  Rod thought he remembered some of them, others were unfamiliar.  They flooded in, swirling and mixing.  Rod's brain, so tuned to only purple, was now working furiously to resolve the new information.  Rod felt nauseous.  He fumbled for the nose plugs.  Dr. Rogers realized what Rod was trying to do.  He quickly reached over and pinched Rod's nose with his fingers.  This brought Rod enough relief that he could manage the plugs.

Dr. Rogers smiled at Rod. "I take it you were able to sense something?" he asked.

Rod nodded and took a moment to compose himself.  "At first, there was nothing," he said, "then all sorts of smells, I mean, tons of them.  I think I recognized some of them."

Dr. Rogers was clearly pleased.  He sat back on the stool, picked up Rod's file and scribbled something down.  He was still scribbling as he spoke. "Well Rod, this is wonderful news," he said.  "I suspect that since you've gone so long without a full sense of smell that you may have a heightened ability to discern individual odors now."  The doctor looked up at Rod.  "Except maybe purple," he added, grinning.

Rod nodded and considered this.  The experience was different than anything he'd ever felt before.  Dr. Rogers finished writing in Rod's file and prepared to leave.  He suggested that Rod periodically remove the plugs, take a couple of quick sniffs and put the plugs back.  This would give his brain a chance to process and learn.  He assured Rod that after a few days the plugs would probably not be necessary at all.

"Well Rod," said Dr. Rogers, "it's been an eventful day, hasn't it?"  The doctor didn't wait for a response.  "I'm going to have the night nurse come in and give you something to help you sleep.  I want you well-rested for tomorrow."

Rod nodded.  He was exhausted, physically and mentally.  He pushed his head back into the pillow and closed his eyes.  He heard Dr. Rogers step out of the room but he was too tired to say goodbye.  He heard the footsteps of someone else in the room.  The night nurse, he assumed, probably adding something to his I.V. line.  Rod kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.  Soon, he felt himself drifting away.

Rod heard a scratching sound.  He opened his eyes.  The room was mostly dark, illuminated only by the glow from the monitors and a little light seeping in from the hallway.  Rod noticed a large raccoon sitting on the stool next to his bed.  The creature had a stethoscope around its neck and it was holding a clipboard.  Rod looked blankly at the raccoon.  It looked back at him for a moment and then turned its attention to scribbling something on the clipboard.  The scribbling task seemed difficult and the critter performed it with its tongue sticking out just a bit, concentrating intently on the job at hand.  Given the urgent, frenetic way in which it wrote, Rod imagined the output would be largely illegible.

Rod noticed that besides the stethoscope, the raccoon also had a collar around its neck with a leash attached.  The leash lay across his bed and Rod followed it with his eyes.  He was startled to find the other end being held in the left hand of a man standing very close to him.  Rod wondered how he hadn't seen him before.  The man's clothes were dirty and torn.  A thin trickle of blood ran from his left nostril.  Rod did not recognize him.

Rod stared at the man's face.  The man leaned in slightly, staring intently at Rod's face.  He lifted his right hand, pointing at Rod's nose.  "My nose," the man said through gritted teeth.  "My nose."

The man moved his hand closer to Rod's nose.  Rod tried to turn away but found he couldn't move.  The hand moved closer.  Rod felt an icy finger enter his left nostril.  Rod gasped and the man and the raccoon disappeared.  The icy sensation remained.  He opened his eyes.  It was morning, the room was bright and Rhonda was sitting very close to his bedside.

She smiled at him.  "Hi there mister sleepy," she said as she pulled a silver tube out of his nostril.  The icy sensation subsided.  "Just taking some pictures," she explained, "doctor's orders."

She held up the silver tube.  "This here's a little camera." She pointed the tip at Rod so he could see the lens.  Then she pointed it at herself, smiled broadly, and pushed a button on the cord.  "I like to leave Dr. Rogers a little surprise every now and then," she explained, smiling at Rod.

Rod was no longer paying attention to Rhonda.  He was searching around the bed for his nose plugs.  So far the smells weren't too overwhelming, but he wanted to be prepared.  Rhonda noticed Rod's actions.  She reached over to the nightstand.

"Here's your little pink plugs," she said, chuckling.

Rod took them and held them in his hand.  Rhonda reach across the bed to untangle the camera cord and Rod caught a whiff something familiar.  He sniffed again.  What was it?  Rod searched the far recesses of his brain, back to the time before purple.  He knew that smell.  He closed his eyes.  Rhonda leaned over him to check the bandage on his head and he got another whiff.  Slowly, a memory came bubbling up to the surface.  Mom, Rod thought.  His mother wore a lot of makeup and Rod now remembered its smell.  That's what he was smelling on Rhonda.  He put the plugs on.

It was late morning when Dr. Rogers stopped by.  He first picked up Rod's chart, studied it and scribbled on it.  Then he talked quietly to Rhonda.  When they finished, Rhonda looked back at Rod and then left.  Dr. Rogers sat down on the stool.

"How are you this morning, Rod?" Dr. Rogers asked.

"Pretty good, I think," Rod replied.

"I was just looking at the pictures Rhonda took of inside your nose," Dr. Rogers commented.  "It looks really good, only minimal scarring."

Rod nodded.  That sounded like a good thing.  But Dr. Rogers looked like he had something else on his mind.

"Rod," began the doctor, "you're very close to being ready for release.  There's really just one more thing we need to tackle."

Rod wondered what else he needed to "tackle".  He knew he felt much better today than he had yesterday even.  Rhonda had commented that the top of his head was healing nicely.  He was anxious to get out of the hospital.

Dr. Rogers looked at him.  "We've got to get you unhooked from this thing," he said, nodding toward the I.V., "right now, you've been getting all your nutrition through it."

Rod thought about this.  It was true.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

"As you probably know, Rod," Dr. Rogers began, "the sense of smell is tightly coupled to the sense of taste.  I suspect that you've been putting up with a pretty bland diet up to now."

Rod nodded.  He remembered the frybread, his one savory salvation.

"Well," said the doctor, "I doubt it will be bland anymore.  I've asked Rhonda to get a lunch for you to try.  If that goes well, we can get rid of the I.V. and get you out of here.  Sound good?"

Rod nodded.  He was determined that it would go well.  If eating a hospital lunch meant that he could go home, then he was sure he could handle it.  Rhonda entered the room with a stainless steel tray and set it on the bedside table.  She then set about adjusting his bed so he was sitting upright.  Dr. Roger looked over the tray and nodded approvingly.  He looked at Rod.

"Rod, you're welcome to try this with or without the plugs at first," Dr. Rogers said as he pulled the tray in front of Rod.

Rod looked down at the food tray.  It had three compartments.  In the large bottom section was a mound of macaroni and cheese.  The noodles were bloated and torn, as if they'd been left to cook too long.  The upper right section held a dark brown lump - chocolate pudding, Rod guessed.  The remaining section held an assortment of celery and carrot sticks.  Rod pulled off the plugs and took a tentative sniff.  He was hit by a powerful sour odor followed quickly by a sweet one.  He remembered these smells, vaguely.  Rod glanced at Dr. Rogers.  He and Rhonda were both staring at him like new parents waiting for their baby to try solid foods.  Rod took the fork and hooked a single noodle.  It was dripping with cheese or some sort of orange cheese-like substance.  Rod carefully put it in his mouth.

Rod's mouth filled with a salty sour cheesy flavor.  He swallowed and quickly took a sip of water.  He glanced at the doctor and gave him a tight, forced smile.  Rod dipped his fork in the pudding, hoping for better results.  This time, his mouth filled with bittersweet so intense he almost spit it out.  But Rod persevered and managed to swallow the pudding.  Again, he followed it with a sip of water.

Dr. Rogers could see Rod was struggling.  "Perhaps, you'd like to put the plugs back on," he suggested.

Rod shook his head.  He wanted them to see that he was ready to leave - that he could eat a meal just like anyone else.  He picked up a celery stick and bit into it.  Rod braced himself for a flavor explosion but none came.  The celery had flavor, to be sure - subtle, succulent flavor.  Rod chewed happily, quickly finishing all the celery on the tray.  He moved next to the carrots.  Stronger flavor than the celery but tolerable, even enjoyable.  Rod munched a carrot and smiled easily at Dr. Rogers.

Dr. Rogers stood up.  "Well Rod, you've shown me a lot here.  Rhonda, let's unhook the I.V..  Rod, we'll monitor you today.  If everything looks good, we might be able to discharge you tomorrow."

Dr. Rogers left the room and Rhonda began working at removing the I.V..  Rod thought about getting out of the hospital, all the new smells.  It was both exciting and a little frightening.  He was determined to keep the plugs off as much as possible.  He would will his brain to adapt.  He took a slow, careful sniff.  He smelled Rhonda, the antiseptic she was putting on his arm, where the I.V. needle had been.  He smelled something else as well, something unpleasant.  He sniffed again.

"I smell something bad," he said at last to Rhonda.

Rhonda smiled at him but Rod could tell it was forced.  She glanced at the door as if hoping someone would come in.  She glanced over at the closet.  Finally, she looked back at Rod.  "What's it smell like,dear?" she drawled.

Rod wasn't sure how to describe it.  It was bad but he didn't have a good reference for it.  "It just stinks," he said at last.

Rhonda bit her lip and walked over to the closet.  As she opened the door, Rod sensed the smell intensify.  "It's getting stronger," he called to Rhonda.

Rhonda closed the door and walked back to Rod.  "It's your uniform, I'm afraid," she said, "I sent it out to be washed twice, but it still has a little smell to it."

Rod looked down at the blankets.  He raised his right arm and sniffed his forearm.  Nothing.

Rhonda watched Rod.  "Oh, you stunk pretty bad too when they brought you in," she said. "I scrubbed you over a few times before you smelled right."  Rhonda smiled at Rod, apparently quite pleased at her accomplishment.

Rod sat and thought.  He wondered if the odor was the result of his being out in the sun so long or if it was just how he usually smelled.  He had an uneasy feeling he knew the answer.  He thought about the sweet lingering smell of purple that had accompanied him everywhere he went.  He had always assumed it was Old Spice.  He recalled Debbie's words to him when she left him at the restaurant.  He thought he'd smelled like Old Spice then, too.  But she had smelled dead raccoon.  And what about the special office his coworkers had set up for him in the basement?  Was it really so that he would be closer to the garage, or did they just want to get away from his stink?  Rod felt a cloud of depression swallowing him.  He'd never liked it when people laughed at him or made fun of him.  He wondered now how many "stinky Rod" jokes had been made at his expense.