Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, 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, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary 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 – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
