Around this period last year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, 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. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
