This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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 always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
