Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
