At this point last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent 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 ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. 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 stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully 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 throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
