This time last year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, 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, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
