This time the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, 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. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
