Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
