Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, 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 clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
