This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
