This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently 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 use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
