The strangest thing about losing your appetite

As long-time fans of the Free-quent Flyer extended universe know, I got pretty sick last year and was diagnosed with “community-acquired pneumonia,” treated with some kind of breathing mask, and sent home with a week’s supply of antibiotics. Then I got fired. I’m fine, I recovered, this isn’t a GoFundMe post or something. But of all the lingering symptoms I’ve had since then, the strangest one is loss of appetite.

A well-known symptom of COVID-19 is loss of smell and taste. But I only briefly lost my sense of smell and taste. I can smell scented candles, food tastes more or less like food again. But what never came back was my appetite. I think of myself as a big eater, always happy to finish somebody else’s plate if they leave anything on it, things of that nature. But since my bout with pneumonia I haven’t had a desire to eat. I put it off as long as possible, then eat as quickly as possible so it’s over as soon as possible.

Loss of appetite is different from hunger in a curious way. I know when I’m hungry; I just don’t want to eat. Of course, our tech overlords call this “intermittent fasting,” which I suppose it is, but I don’t do it in order to perfect my body’s rhythms or whatever they’re aiming for. I’m just annoyed and disgusted by the concept of eating, however hungry I am.

But the strangest thing about losing your appetite is the odd, intermittent bursts of desire. What made me even think of writing this post was that I was walking back home the other day, not having eaten in 16 hours or so, and was suddenly struck by the desire for a cheeseburger from Shake Shack. I headed straight there, with my order entirely planned out, and there was a customer fighting with the cashier about how many burgers she had ordered, how many she paid for, how many she received.

And I immediately lost my appetite.

Get vaccinated, stay safe, don’t get COVID-19.