on monday, i cared for a 74 year old man. he looked a bit more frail than his 74 years, hunched over a walker, pale and disheveled in hospital pajamas. but he smelled dignified. and in an instant, i was reminded of my grandfather. who died more than 12 years ago.
i feel bad admitting this, but i don't think of poo (his nickname) that often. and if so, it's more of a fleeting thought than a realistic, tangible memory complete with longing and ache.
as i left my patient's room and passed by his sink, i saw a familiar green bottle adorned with a gold cap and the signature polo emblem. my grandpa used to wear so much polo cologne it was almost as if he bathed in it. the "collector" that he was, his bathroom always had numerous green bottles. it was the obvious, standard father's day, birthday, and christmas gift. and i realized why my head was flooded with thoughts, taken back a decade in time.
all because of my sense of smell.
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