At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get 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 coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, 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 all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
