Cough syrup is the most disgusting thing on Earth

There are few things I hate more in this world than cough medicine.

If you happened to be in the same room as me as I was typing this, you would have seen me shudder horribly as I wrote that last sentence. I have a serious problem with cough syrup.

To demonstrate this aversion, I will describe a general administration of the medicine. First, it begins, believe it or not, with a cough.

Generally it begins with a small tickle in the back of the throat, nothing major. The tickle begins to scratch a bit, and a few small coughs are released to clear the throat a little, NOT because I'm sick in any way, shape, or form. Then the coughs get a little more steady, perhaps a good series or so to clear the lungs. It'll be done soon, don't worry. Then the coughs get more prolonged and more forceful, the type of coughs that strangers begin to edge away from you in a crowd, despite the fact that I am quite obviously not sick. At this point, close friends will likely make fun of me and then suggest that I take some medicine, at which point I will vehemently declare that I am NOT sick, that this is just a for a day, and I already feel better than I did previously, so why should I take any sort of medicine. Generally this is said so fiercely that said friends back away slowly and then proceed to ignore the developing hacking cough. It's only when it sounds like I'm beginning to try to cough up my entire lung when my parents (one or the other, it doesn't matter which) step in and declare:

"You're taking cough medicine."

(And, before I get any farther, please remember that this is not me as a child. This is me as a functioning adult, scared out of my wits by cherry flavored syrup.)

"NOOOOOOOO! I'M FINE!" I yell hoarsely, the frenzied scream only aggravating my lungs, sending me into a hacking attack. This sort of behavior only fuels my parents case, their eyes looking at me accusingly. They reach into the medicine cabinet and take out the poison medicine.

At this point I must leave the room, as the sight of the bottle is enough to send me into slight convulsions. Even now, at the mere thought of the hellish mixture being forced upon me, I'm getting twitchy, looking for any possible exit from the room. But, as it is my parents who are giving it to me, there's not really anywhere I can hide. So I sit, waiting in a way that is probably akin to waiting for the electric chair, except I am condemned to a much worse fate - death by cough syrup.

So then my parent comes in, holding the dreaded plastic cup with the dreaded bright red concoction. I take the cup, hand trembling slightly, and stare at it, wondering how I'm going to be able to get it down.

For the record, I have thrown up cough syrup before. I told my dad it was because I was sick - he thought I was being overdramatic. It was probably a toss-up.

So, I'll hold the dinky little plastic cup for a little while - the exact time depends on my intestinal fortitude of the day and how many times my parent has sighed and/or made sarcastic comments. I'll steel myself up for it, tell myself multiple times that it'll be worth it, I'll feel better, it won't taste that bad this time. All lies, but necessary for the deed. Finally, I just take the cup and knock it back, imagining that I'm taking a shot of pretty much any other liquid.

Most cough syrups are cherry flavored. I think it's mislabeled. It really ought to say baby poop-barf flavored. I cannot stand the taste. I literally shudder as I take it, and I'm sure my face is scrunched up in a most unlovely way. After swallowing the disgusting substance (and making sure that my stomach won't reject it), I thrust the cup into my parent's hand and quickly gulp down a glass of water, trying to wash away the toxic taste. I won't lie, sometimes there's tears in my eyes afterwards, the whole episode being so traumatic. I glare at my parents, my face contorted from the abhorrent syrup that my taste buds are still processing, and I quickly leave the room to sulk.

After about an hour, when I've finally been able to calm down and suppress the recent horrors, my parents always come around and, noticing the echoing silence after a few days of ringing coughs, ask if I think the medicine helped.

Oh no. I'm never admitting that.