This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
