Around this period a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
