I've been feeling a little under the weather the last couple of days. It's nothing serious. I'm just achy and tired with a slight sore throat and occasional low grade fever. Lots of sleep, liquids and Advil will have me better soon. Of course as I'm spending time laying around, I can't help but think back to being sick when I was a kid.
Mother had a "remedy" for us when we had a bad cough or croup: melted butter. Honest, that is what she would give us. A couple of my older sisters have told me that would pretend their coughs were worse than they were just to get this "medicine". I, on the other hand, would try to convince Mother that my cough wasn't as bad as it was so that I wouldn't have to drink the "medicine". It was usually in the middle of the night that I'd wake up coughing. Mother would tell me that a little melted butter would help. Despite my protests, soon I'd be sitting at the kitchen table while Mother prepared my midnight snack. She had a small little pan that no longer even had a handle that she would use to melt the butter on the stove. Then I'd be given a couple of teaspoons full to swallow. That awful taste of pure melted butter in the middle of the night is still as vivid as if it were yesterday. I will never understand how my siblings thought it tasted good. To this day, I'm not much of a butter user.
Unfortunately, sometimes melted butter didn't cure the illness and we'd end up with real medicine prescribed by the doctor. Luckily, this didn't happen to me often, but the memory of liquid penicillin is forever etched in my mind. I honestly do not remember what ailment I needed it for, but I can still see that bottle of pink medicine inside the refrigerator when I was about 4 years old. If I ever considered running away from home when I was a kid, it would have been then. It's been over 40 years since I took that nasty medicine and yet the horrible taste lingers in the back of my mind like a bad nightmare. I tried everything to not have to take it. I'd hide or pretend to be asleep. I'd claim that I felt better. Still Mother would make me take it. It may have only been a teaspoon at a time, but it seemed like a gallon. I know I fussed and whined and cried and none of it did any good. I still had to take the medicine. Then, apparently I came up with a plan. I don't remember this, but have been told the story many times. Considering I was only 4 at the time, I think I was very clever. I told Mother that I could take the medicine but I had to be alone. No doubt having everyone watch me take the medicine was what made it so difficult for me. So Mother agreed. She gave me the medicine in a little cup and put me in the laundry room, which was right next to the kitchen. Everything was going just as I planned, until my snoopy older sister, Jo, had to peak in the door from the kitchen, just as I was pouring the penicillin down the sink. I should mention that not only was she snoopy, but she was a tattle tale as well! Needless to say, I was never allowed to take my medicine alone again. Some how I survived taking the rest of that medicine. And maybe even more surprising, Jo and I are pretty close.
Fast forward to a few years ago and my darling daughter Lauren needed a prescription. Unable to swallow pills yet, she was given liquid medicine. One guess who got to try to get her to take it! Yes, it was me. And guess what? She is her Mother's daughter. Surely I never carried on the way she did. One would have thought I was torturing her by making her take her medicine. It's a wonder social services didn't come to the door since I was apparently abusing her. I swear those were the longest 10 days of my life. After getting Lauren out the door to school after finally getting her to take her medicine one of those days, I picked up the phone and called my mom. When she answered, I immediately apologized for my behavior from all those years ago. I am certain Mother was laughing more on the inside than she let on during our phone conversation.
In the spring of 2011, Lauren had strep throat. When the doctor told us, Lauren was hysterical. The doctor told her she had three options: pills, liquid or a shot. Lauren immediately chose the shot! Good choice. Of course she screamed so loud when they gave her the shot that the entire clinic heard her, but at least I didn't have to fight her for 10 days to take her medicine. If she'd chosen the liquid, I would have asked for a shot for myself...tequila!
Feeling a little under the weather like I do, I wish I could pick up the phone and call Mother. Just hearing her voice would be medicine to my soul.
