Anosmia Awareness Day

 February 27  Health
<p>Daniel Schein was in the fifth grade when he was told he could not smell, and like most who grow up with it he spent years assuming it was a minor quirk rather than anything worth talking about. In 2011 he began researching the loss properly, and in 2012 he set up a Facebook event and an organisation called Anosmia Awareness, asking people to wear red on 27 February to mark a sense that almost nobody thinks about until it is gone. That single online date is the origin of Anosmia Awareness Day, observed each year on 27 February to draw attention to anosmia, the partial or total loss of the sense of smell.</p> <h2 id="a-condition-built-around-its-founders-experience">A condition built around its founder&rsquo;s experience</h2><div class="ad-unit ad-in-article" aria-label="Advertisement"> <span class="ad-label">Advertisement</span> <ins class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block;text-align:center" data-ad-client="ca-pub-3726833845844946" data-ad-slot="3291553914" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true"></ins> <script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script> </div> <p>What makes the day unusual among health observances is how directly it grew from one person&rsquo;s life. Schein, an American who had lived with anosmia since childhood, did not have a charity or a research institute behind him when he started. He had a frustration that the condition was treated as trivial, and a sense that the people living with it had no shared occasion, no ribbon, no day. The red clothing he chose as the visual marker, and the late-February date, both come straight from that first event. Since 2012 the day has grown well beyond a Facebook page, gathering support from research bodies including the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia and the British charity Fifth Sense, which campaigns for people affected by smell and taste disorders.</p> <h2 id="what-anosmia-actually-is">What anosmia actually is</h2> <p>Anosmia is the loss of the ability to smell, and it arrives by many routes. Some people are born without a working sense of smell, a state called congenital anosmia, which can occur on its own or as part of a wider condition such as Kallmann syndrome, the sort of inborn difference also recognised by observances like <a href="/specialdate/canada-congenital-heart-defect-awareness-day/">Congenital Heart Defect Awareness Day</a>. Far more people acquire it: through viral infections that damage the olfactory system, through chronic sinus and nasal disease such as nasal polyps, through head injuries that shear the delicate olfactory nerve fibres where they pass through the skull, and through neurological conditions including Parkinson&rsquo;s and Alzheimer&rsquo;s disease, in which smell loss can appear as an early sign years before other symptoms.</p> <p>The sense is more fragile than most people realise. The olfactory receptors sit high in the nasal cavity and send their signals through a thin bony plate called the cribriform plate, and a sharp blow to the head can sever those fibres as cleanly as a cut wire. That is why a fall or a car accident can take someone&rsquo;s sense of smell permanently, even when no other lasting injury results.</p> <p>Smell loss also comes in degrees and varieties that the single word &ldquo;anosmia&rdquo; tends to flatten. Hyposmia is a reduced rather than absent sense of smell, common in older adults and often unnoticed until it is pointed out. Anosmia proper is the complete loss. Beyond these sit the distortions: parosmia, in which smells are present but wrong, and phantosmia, in which a person perceives a smell, frequently smoke or something burning, that is not actually there. Some people have specific anosmia, an inability to detect one particular odour while smelling everything else normally, which can run in families. The variety matters because it shapes what, if anything, can be done: a blocked nose from polyps may be treatable, while smell loss from a severed nerve generally is not.</p> <h2 id="why-it-matters-more-than-it-seems">Why it matters more than it seems</h2><div class="ad-unit ad-in-article" aria-label="Advertisement"> <span class="ad-label">Advertisement</span> <ins class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block;text-align:center" data-ad-client="ca-pub-3726833845844946" data-ad-slot="3291553914" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true"></ins> <script>(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});</script> </div> <p>It is tempting to rank smell low among the senses, and that ranking is exactly what the day exists to challenge. The most immediate consequences are about safety. Smell is a warning system, and people who cannot smell may not detect a gas leak, the early smoke of a fire, or food that has turned, which is why those with anosmia are advised to fit gas and smoke alarms and to be strict about use-by dates rather than relying on a sniff test.</p> <p>The deeper cost is harder to see. Because flavour is largely built from aroma rather than taste, people who lose their sense of smell usually find that food becomes flat and joyless, and many describe a quiet grief at the loss of pleasure in eating. Smell is also wired directly into the brain&rsquo;s emotional and memory centres, the only sense to reach them so nearly unfiltered, which is why a particular scent can summon a childhood kitchen or a long-dead relative in an instant. To lose that is to lose a private archive: the smell of a partner, a newborn, a familiar home. Studies have linked smell loss with depression and social withdrawal, and the day&rsquo;s quiet argument is that an invisible sensory loss can carry a very real emotional weight.</p> <h2 id="how-the-day-is-observed">How the day is observed</h2> <p>Anosmia Awareness Day lives mostly online, which suits a community scattered thinly across the population. People with anosmia wear red and share their stories, often describing for the first time experiences they had assumed were theirs alone. Charities such as Fifth Sense publish personal accounts, safety advice and explanations of the science, while clinicians and researchers use the date to highlight studies and new findings. The emphasis throughout is on recognition: for many, the value of the day is simply discovering that the condition has a name, a community and a date. It sits naturally alongside the broader push of <a href="/specialdate/rare-disease-day/">Rare Disease Day</a>, which falls in the same late-February window and makes a similar case for the many conditions too uncommon to attract attention on their own.</p> <h2 id="a-condition-that-briefly-went-mainstream">A condition that briefly went mainstream</h2> <p>For most of its history anosmia was poorly understood by the public, but the COVID-19 pandemic changed that almost overnight. Sudden loss of smell became one of the most recognised symptoms of the illness, and millions of people experienced for the first time what those with long-term anosmia had been describing for years. That shared, if temporary, encounter brought a surge of research funding and public sympathy, and many who recovered came away with a new respect for a sense they had never thought about. Some, unfortunately, found the loss lingered, swelling the ranks of those for whom 27 February now means something personal.</p> <h2 id="the-hidden-labour-of-a-missing-sense">The hidden labour of a missing sense</h2> <p>People who can smell rarely notice how much work the sense quietly does. It checks whether the milk has turned before the first sip, judges whether a room is clean, signals that a pan has caught, and flags a stranger&rsquo;s approach in the dark. Stripped of all that, a person with anosmia has to substitute conscious effort for an automatic alarm, mentally tracking what they cannot perceive. They date and label food rigorously, ask a partner to confirm that nothing is burning, and rely on others to mention that they have spilt something or that a nappy needs changing. New parents with anosmia often describe the particular difficulty of not being able to smell their own baby, a bond that those with the sense take entirely for granted. None of this is visible to onlookers, which is exactly why the day exists: to make the constant, invisible compensating known.</p> <h2 id="living-with-smell-loss">Living with smell loss</h2> <p>Much of the day&rsquo;s practical worth lies in the advice it circulates. Beyond fitting alarms and watching dates, people are encouraged to take care with personal hygiene and gas appliances, and to ask others to be a second nose where safety is concerned. One technique that has gained clinical support is &ldquo;smell training&rdquo;, in which a person sniffs a small set of strong, familiar scents, often rose, lemon, clove and eucalyptus, twice a day over several months. The evidence suggests it can help some people, particularly those recovering from viral smell loss, gradually retrain the olfactory system, though it is no guarantee.</p> <h2 id="fun-facts">Fun facts</h2> <ul> <li>Smell is the only one of the human senses that bypasses the brain&rsquo;s central relay station, the thalamus, on its way in, connecting almost directly to the regions handling emotion and memory. This is why a scent can trigger a vivid memory faster and more powerfully than a sight or a sound.</li> <li>Most of what we call &ldquo;taste&rdquo; is actually smell. The tongue detects only sweet, sour, salty, bitter and umami; the difference between a strawberry and a cherry is read by the nose, which is why food seems bland when your nose is blocked.</li> <li>People with anosmia can usually still perceive chilli heat, the fizz of carbonation and the cooling of mint, because these are detected by the trigeminal nerve rather than the olfactory system.</li> <li>Some people experience parosmia, a distortion rather than an absence, in which familiar smells become unpleasant or unrecognisable. Coffee smelling of petrol or sewage is a common and distressing example, often reported during recovery from viral smell loss.</li> <li>Humans can distinguish a remarkable number of distinct odours, far more than the long-quoted figure of around 10,000, with one widely cited 2014 study suggesting the real number runs into the trillions.</li> </ul> <h2 id="a-closing-reflection">A closing reflection</h2> <p>There is a particular loneliness to losing something that other people cannot see you lacking. A person who cannot smell looks entirely well, walks into the same rooms and eats at the same tables, and yet experiences a quietly diminished version of the world that is hard to explain to anyone who has never been without it. What Daniel Schein really did, by asking people to wear red on one day in February, was to make an invisible loss briefly visible. The honest hope behind the day is not that everyone will suddenly understand what anosmia feels like, which may be impossible, but that fewer people will dismiss it as nothing, and that the next child told they cannot smell will at least know they are not the only one.</p>
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Atlas
Written by Atlas

Writes vo.rs's calendar of special days and the stories of the people, places and curiosities behind them. Endlessly nosy about why we mark the dates we do, from solemn remembrances to gloriously silly food holidays, Atlas digs up the origins, the traditions and the odd fact worth repeating at dinner.