When I signed the consent form (June 2011) to have the endoscopic transsphenoidal adenectomy (pituitary surgery through the nose), there was a clause stating that my sense of taste might alter for a unspecified period of time. Three months later, I am into my second week of recuperating from a laparoscopic adrenalectomy (surgical incisions located in the abdominal area). I needed to have this surgery because the partially removed pituitary gland continued to be "active" in triggering my adrenal glands to produce toxic levels of cortisol. The consequence from the surgeries on my eating habits, thus far, is that I have a decreased appetite. I am eating, however, not as enthusiastically as I had months ago.
I noticed the change in my sense of taste when I was on the post-andrenalectomy
liquid diet, which consisted of broth, fruit-flavored gelatine, pudding, cranberry
juice, iced tea, and water. The hospital cafeteria broth was the most alarming
when contrasted to my memorable broth, made from fresh chicken stock. My broth
should taste better than the water boiled with instant (powder)
version. However, the other meal items tasted just as "funny." NOTE:
the adrenal surgery was at the same hospital as I had in June for the pituitary.
The menu's meal combination had not changed, nor had the vendor of these menu
items, provisions that were well within their expiration date. The taste comparison
was not the difference between two recipes, but the change in the evaluator's
conclusion (due to his altered faculties): my memory of singular item(s)
prepared no differently than before.
I did not fuss over the taste matter for fear that the issue might rouse a
pedigreed reaction as opposed to a symptomatic classification. If either fear
(or both) were provocative, I did not want to delay. I wanted to move bravely
onward to solid food as quickly as possible without a hint of this incident.
After all, the adenectomy and andrenalectomy were not about the purpose of heightening
my ability to fathom seasoning "irregularities." (Follow-up to
My first solid meal was spinach quiche accompanied by a sausage patty. The
breakfast was over-spiced; I did not take a second bite. Fortunately, the biscuit
with margarine was bland enough. The decaffeinated tea (lemon) was swigalicious.
For lunch, baked turkey sliced with gravy was accompanied by cheese and macaroni.
Dinner was a fish fillet with paprika, roasted potatoes in addition. The turkey
and fish overpowered my palette. The cheese and macaroni (likewise for the potatoes)
was less sickening to the stomach.
My stomach was distended, not in contentment, but in need of relief. The stitches
scarring my plumped belly were not a laughable gaseous distraction. A suppository
did not make me sit and contemplate, nor did relaxation in the form of a pill
soften my faecial expression or assist in the dispense of my airs.
At home ad nauseam for nought! Gladly, I am progressing since being discharged
from the hospital. The depletion of hormonal toxins has yet to triumph my taste
sense(s); the loss of appetite has yet to tuck into my tummy demure delights.
I do find myself with a fully portioned plate, but not heaping. I find myself
chewing, chewing more slowly--now in smaller bites. Adjusting for vagary as