Around this period the previous year, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues 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 during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. 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 have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
