At this point last year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, 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, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
