Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching 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 others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
