I had Chronic Bronchitis as a child. If you've never heard someone with Bronchitis cough, its just something that you would have to experience. It is incredibly annoying to say the least. More of a loud, non-stop "barking" than an actually cough. Very frustrating to the afflicted person and anyone within earshot. I would drive myself and my parents crazy with my hacking. They never yelled at me about it or anything like that; however I know it had to have gotten on their nerves.
My dad used to make me this concoction containing whiskey, hot tea, lemon and honey. I have since been told that some people refer to it as a "Hot Toddy." I always referred to it as the "Nasty Stuff." My parents would make a cup of this mess to help stifle my coughing. (You have to keep in mind, this was the norm in 1975) Usually I couldn't even get passed the SMELL of the stuff, let alone try drinking it!
One particular evening I remember sitting in the living-room watching TV with my dad. We had just finished dinner and my mom was in the kitchen cleaning up. I remember that my coughing was virtually non-stop. So much so that I was only able to eat a couple bites of my dinner. Sitting there and continuing to cough, I was increasingly getting on my dad's nerves. He tried the usual suggestions; "Have you tried drinking some water? Cough-drops?" The problem usually was that my coughing was so forceful that attempting to take a drink would generally result in me choking on the water. Forget trying to suck on a cough-drop. Many a time I have choked on a cough-drop while forcefully inhaling during a coughing fit.
After turning up the TV a couple of times to try drowning out my hacking, my dad finally went into the kitchen to make a coffee-cup full of the "Nasty Stuff." A few minutes later my dad returned to the living-room with the mug of "Nasty Stuff" and told me to drink it. I knew the routine. We would usually spend the next 30 minutes or more arguing back and forth about me drinking it. I was persistent though and would usually wear my dad down and he would give up trying to get me to drink it. This particular time I had an idea. I didn't want to argue with my dad. He was never a physically abusive man but he had a way of raising his voice to the point where I would usually end up in tears.
My plan was to sit there and sip on the Nasty Stuff for a few minutes. Then I would get up to act like I had to use the bathroom. I would take my little mug with me and once in the bathroom, I would dump the contents down the toilet. No fuss, no muss and everybody is happy. With my dad's strong urging, I took a few good size gulps of the mess. I started to feel sick to my stomach and headed to the bathroom with my mug. Once I got in there, I was just about to dump the contents of the mug into the toilet. The burning sickness that I had been feeling in my stomach had suddenly turned to a warm feeling that spread throughout my body. Even at such a young age I realized that I liked the feeling that alcohol gave me. So, I proceeded to finish the rest of my elixir...instead of flushing it down the toilet. I don't think that is normal for your average 5-year old.
Me, bottom row-third from left.
