At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
