This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
