At this point a year ago, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
