At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
