At this point, if the doctor ever again says she want me to take this test,

the answer will be "Hell NO!" unless the words "or you'll die" are part of her request.

And then I might have to think about it.

How do I dislike this? Let me count the ways:
The meds taste bad at the start, and by the time they're gone it's bloody awful.
After each set the rumbles & uneasiness start.
Then you find yourself running for the tiled reading room at frequent intervals.
Upon arriving there, you find that everything you've had to eat for approximately the last two weeks begins exiting your body. In liquid form, and at a velocity that seems almost enough to provide thrust.
The only good thing about the meds is that after you start taking them, the fact that you've had nothing but some broth to eat today no longer captures your attention. Because your system is so busy bobbling around inside from whatever-the-hell it is you drank, that you aren't really worried about food.

And, by the way, 'clear liquids' my ass: no whiskey or beer allowed.