At this point last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, 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, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
