Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, 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 unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
