This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
