Let her moan, cry, and delay the inevitable, showing respect for her feelings, but set a timer for these activities. When the timer goes off, it's time to take the medicine.

Refusing medicine necessary to get better is not an option, just like playing in traffic is not an option. But respecting her feelings about it is an option.

The following is a very valuable experience I had as a resident on a Pediatric cancer ward. Twice a day, a 5 year old patient had to have an IM injection of a chemotherapeutic agent. It wasn't an option; she had to have it. On my shift, I would walk in and it would begin: the pleading, the mourning, the objection, the cries. It would take about 20 minutes of (very valuable) time to let her come to the point of letting me give her the injection.

One day, I walked in and she was fast asleep. I thought, "Oh, I can just give it to her without all the anguish; It will be over as she wakes up."

So, while she slept, I prepped her thigh and gave her the injection. Once I did, she woke up. "All done!" I said.

The little girl never spoke to me again. She died a few months later, never uttering another word to me, a person who had profoundly betrayed her. Almost four decades later, I still remember the look on her face.

So, respect her feelings and give her time to grieve, but set a limit after which she will have to take the medicine. I like the suggestions in @Pascal's answer. A story afterwards, a small reward, something precious to her (stickers of her favorite character? a small bowl of ice cream? Whatever rocks her world.)

But do not feel guilty at making her take her medicine. It's your job.

Let her moan, cry, and delay the inevitable, showing respect for her feelings, but set a timer for these activities. When the timer goes off, it's time to take the medicine.

Refusing medicine necessary to get better is not an option, just like playing in traffic is not an option. But respecting her feelings about it is an option.

The following is a very valuable experience I had as a resident on a Pediatric cancer ward. Twice a day, a 5 year old patient had to have an intramuscular injection of a chemotherapeutic agent. It wasn't an option; she had to have it. On my shift, I would walk in and it would begin: the pleading, the mourning, the objection, the cries. It would take about 20 minutes of (very valuable) time to let her come to the point of letting me give her the injection.

One day, I walked in and she was fast asleep. I thought, "Oh, I can just give it to her without all the anguish; It will be over as she wakes up."

So, while she slept, I prepped her thigh and gave her the injection. Once I did, she woke up. "All done!" I said.

The little girl never spoke to me again. She died a few months later, never uttering another word to me, a person who had profoundly betrayed her. Almost four decades later, I still remember the look on her face.

So, respect her feelings and give her time to grieve, but set a limit after which she will have to take the medicine. I like the suggestions in @Pascal's answer. A story afterwards, a small reward, something precious to her (stickers of her favorite character? a small bowl of ice cream? Whatever rocks her world.)

But do not feel guilty at making her take her medicine. It's your job.