This time last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, 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 as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
