At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. 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. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, 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. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
