At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that 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 know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief 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 can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
