My throat hurts, shhhhhhh!

My madre has a tendency to overreact. I figured this out the third day I was here. I woke up with a cough, stuff in my throat...my throat just hurt, bad. So, I told her. More than likely just to make a conversation. In America, my mom would say gargle with warm salt water, go to bed early, and get over it. In Spain, my Madre plays nurse. First, she instantly makes me eat. She thinks I need to have food in my stomach for the medicine she basically shoves down my throat. She honestly sat on my bed next to me, persuading me to take it. She would not leave until I agreed. Believe me, I tried...she is, to say the least, persistent. Next, she will not let me have anything cold. Nothing. No icecream, no salad, no cold water. Nothing. It is part of the past history/culture/beliefs that cold things make throats worse. She about dragged me, physically, to the doctor. I finally acted out my American stubbornness...NO. I will NOT go to the doctor. 1. Not because of a sore throat. 2. Not in another country. 3. You are overreacting. It doesn't matter what I say, she knows I am sick, and I will catch a disease and die if I don't go. Regardless, I refuse.

My cough, my voice, and my throat have not gotten any better over the past 4 days. It actually is really hurting worse. Do I tell her this? OF COURSE NOT! Every day, no, every 4 hours, she walks into my room and asks me how my throat is feeling. My response, with a very large Georgia smile, "Much better, thank you." She then probes "Medi (She can't pronounce Mary all the way.)? Are you suuuuuuure?"
I reply "Yes, Madre, it has improved! I am feeling great." She shoots me a look, talks very quickly under her breathe and walks about. Four hours later, ""Medi?"
"Yes, Madre, it's fine." Padre gets home. Now, she is getting him involved. He looks at me "Medi? Your throat? How is it?"
I reply "It's good. Thanks for asking. So, what's for dinner?"

Dinner. She sets a glass down in front of me, goes to hand me water, but pulls it back just as I go to grab it..."Medi, you cannot have cold water. Only room temperature water. You have a sore throat. You cannot not have it." Crap. Why did I ever say anything!! This continues. Over and over. Day after day. It's hard to lie about feeling well when you cough all night long. Especially when she tells you the next day she was ease-dropping outside my room to see if she could hear me coughing. Yep, that's a cough. She STILL can't have cold water. Crap.

Today, lunch. My brother, Juaquin comes to join us. Madre and Padre are in the kitchen. I sit at the table with him alone. He looks over at me, and what do you think the first words out of his mouth are? Yep. I just put my finger to my mouth and as quietly and forcefully as I could possibly try, I whispered "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

He just laughed.