Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away 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 his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
