At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, 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 relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room 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 the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
