At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, 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. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.