Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect 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 always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
