A couple of letters recently came in support of Facing My Final Hour, the young fellow who might lose his sense of taste this weekend. We set him up with a special dinner at Le Bernardin, but it turns out he’s hardly alone:
Dear Grub Street,
I just wanted to send you a quick e-mail to express how amazing your article about the man facing losing his sense of taste made me feel. I develop new treatments for patients with rare blood cancers; one of the problems they face after chemotherapy is a damaged sense of taste and smell. One of my current patients is in culinary school, and I’m hoping this doesn’t happen to her. I sent your article to her and, as I typed, got a little misty around the eye area.Thank you so very much.Cheers,
Michael
Dear Grub Street,
Last month I had work done on a cavity near an already-damaged nerve from a previous surgery (which had left me with no feeling in part of my chin). I, like “Facing my Final Hour” is afraid of, lost sense in my tongue and have little to no taste left. A lengthy obituary-like e-mail with “the girl who put food before god” in the subject line was sent out to my friends who shared my New York foodie habits and I fell into depression. I think it’s absolutely great what you’re doing for the reader, who I think should reconsider doing anything at all to his wisdom tooth. It does make me feel better, however, that there’s someone else who will be eating carrots and other such disgusting healthy snacks for the remainder of their life (even if they have enjoyed better food than me for more than 20 years). -Heather
Earlier: Eric Ripert to Feed Reader Who May Lose Sense of Taste
