Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were 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’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. 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. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. 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 his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly 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. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed 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 like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, found, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
