Robitussin's Revenge

In a word... Yuck!

I don't like Robitussin! I don't know of anyone who likes Robitussin! What's with this stuff? Is it supposed to taste bad so that you won't be tempted to overdose? No wonder people use pills. Can you imagine pouring several bottles of this stuff down your throat. "One more swallow, and it will all be over." I feel like that after my first teaspoon!

But there I stood arguing with myself.

"Take it! It will make you feel better!" But my "inner child" clamped his mouth shut and said... No. Which takes talent! I even tried to bribe the kid. "Take the tussin and you can wash it down with a Dr. Pepper!" But who wants that combined taste in their mouths. I finally gave up. "Fine! Go ahead and be sick then. See if I care." So I marched out with my inner child in tow feeling like he had won some victory. He climbed into bed, grabbed the remote and tuned into the Cosby show. He clicked on his little laptop, smiled and settled in for a relaxing day in bed.

And then the coughing began.

It started as a little thing... barely noticeable. The laptop bounced a bit but nothing major. The next one was the cough from hell. And it felt like hell... a place of everlasting torment... He could feel the smoke clogging his breathing and the burning in his chest. When the chest heaves and wheezing finally stopped, my inner child looked at me in tears. "Hey, Mr. grown up!"

"Yes?" I said, snickering.

"What's wrong with me?"

"You need some cough syrup, kid. So you can either march your self back in there and take it or suffer the next coughing fit." With a defeated look on his face, he went back into the bathroom, filled the tussin cap up and quickly downed the required amount.

"This tastes awful!" But he realized that the consequences of not staying on top of things could be worse than the meds.

And me, I knew the real truth. We would be ok... for four hours. Then we'd have to go through this again.