Around this period a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
