At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this 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 because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
