Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, 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’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
