This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. 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 the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
