At this point last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing 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 mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation 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 nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
