Around this period a year ago, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
