This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues 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 apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
