My grandmother cured everything with Robutussin or Tussin for short. If we sneezed, we got Robitussin. If we coughed, Robitussin. If we fell out of a tree, and broke our arm, we got two spoonfuls, one for pain, the other to set the bone in place.
My mother kept a bottle of erythromycin in the kitchen, on the spice rack. I don’t think the medicine was harmed in any way but on occasion it would taste like we were swallowing a poultry spice ball.
We weren’t trying to play around with any major illnesses. We had a doctor in the family, my uncle Matthews, who diagnosed everything from spider bites to menopause. Black people don’t like to go to doctors or the hospital. Uncle Matthews was the exception, going to him was more like a family visit. Uncle Matthews was so friendly, you never thought anything was seriously wrong with you.
Nothing a little Robitussin can’t cure.