Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
