At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, 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, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief 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. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently 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 commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
