At this point last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. 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. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds 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 seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
