Workaholic

         Maria had been feeling ill for a while. Although she had medical insurance, she hated the time, energy, and loss of income from having to go to the doctor. For these reasons, she tended to self- medicate. Most of the time, the over-the-counter medications she chose were exactly what she needed. Coughs were easy. Fevers? There was aspirin. Yet, on the occasions when she couldn’t either sleep off an ailment, or self-cure, she was the most stubborn when it came to seeking professional assistance. This time, however, she was out of luck.
         “Maria!” Julie exclaimed. “You’re burning up with fever!”
         “I took some aspirin, it’ll be okay.” The young woman replied as she pushed her sweat dampened hair out of her face.
         Julie, who was Maria’s best friend and roommate, shook her head. “You can’t fix everything by taking aspirin. Pills aren’t the cure all,” she insisted. “Besides,” Julie added, “you’ve been complaining about your hand hurting for days, and it’s all red and swollen. That cut looks nasty. You need to go to a doctor.”
         On a sigh, and a nod, Maria reluctantly gave in. “You may be right,” she ceded. I’ll go to the clinic on Saturday. Just let me get through work the next couple of days. I can’t afford the time right now.”
         “No!” Julie insisted. “You’re going now. If you don’t, you may not be able to work.”
         Ignoring Maria’s kicking, and protesting, Julie managed to drag her friend into the walk-in clinic. It was a good thing she had. Her friend, not able to locate a pair of scissors, had used a knife to open a bag that was particularly difficult. She had cut herself, and the cut had become infected to the point that no store-bought ointment would help. Thank God for antibiotics.