This time the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. 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 celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet 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. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
