Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, 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, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
