Today I really regretted taking Claritin-D.

For most of my life, I have suffered from a nonrelenting case of allergic rhinitis. I have never been able to breathe through my nose. My sense of smell was shot and my sense of taste wasn't far behind. I remember as a kid being ridiculed when I brought my nasal spray to school in my lunch box. My mom also used to mercilessly tease me by asking me what I thought about her soups and when my answers were always a disappointingly, "I don't know," she'd scoff in my face and say, "Why did I even ask? You could eat dog $%@# and it would still taste the same!" (obvious exaggeration)

At the same time, there were some benefits. Whenever we went camping, I could tolerate outhouses for longer. During anatomy, I could dissect into the GI system without blinking an eye. When I visited a neighbor's house in Paraguay and they offered pig skin soup with the bristle still attached, I chewed the furry mess and was honestly able to say that it was a good meal.

But then I discovered Claritin-D and my world changed. I could breathe! I could smell! I could taste! It was amazing. It was a miracle. Did you know that flowers actually smell sweet? All this time, I never understood why people would stuff their noses in bouquets and sigh in bliss. Now I know. I became addicted to experiencing the world through my missing fifth sense. I gladly endured the daily pseudoephedrine inspired headaches and palpitations. I looked forward to the withdrawal fatigues and depression because I knew that the next day would be filled with exciting and wonderful fragrances.

But little by little, I've started to wonder if my new olfactory world may have some draw backs. The streets of Chicago have become more pungent than I remember. and the subways and buses are definitely more aromatic.

And today, after performing my first real drainage of an abscess pilonidal style, I discovered the smell of bodily fluids. and it stinks. At first, cleaning the abscess out was satisfying. There's nothing like squeezing out the badness from the skin and knowing that the patient was going to feel a lot better afterwards. But then it hit me. The smell. The disgusting, putrid smell of anaerobes gone wild. It was horrifying. I gagged a little into my mouth. While I kept a straight face and kept expressing the badness now with a completely new dimension of badness, I thought longingly back to the days where I could have remained blissfully ignorant of the foul odors that now surrounded me.

But then I ended my shift and came back home. And realized I still really loved breathing. And maybe the world didn't smell quite as bad as I thought. Now all I have to figure out is how to obtain a 30-day supply of my heavily regulated miracle drug without a prescription before I leave the country in two weeks. all in a perfectly legal way. i promise.