This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned 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, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, 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 relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star 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 all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
