This time last year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, 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 producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. 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 have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
