Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
