Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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 ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully 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 sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
