Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
