It was a crazy, topsy turvy drive down interstate 85 to take Mom to the psychiatrist this morning. The police were everywhere and the traffic was very heavy.
"I've never seen so much traffic," Mom told me checking her seatbelt.
"Me neither," I replied as I drove and smoked my cigarette.
You would never believe gas was almost $4 dollars a gallon with the way people were driving. Fast and reckless. I felt like a driver in a NASCAR race.
We arrived at the doctor's office. We didn't have to wait long and they called us back. I was amazed that Mom didn't tell the doctor much. She just matter-of-factly answered his questions and was ready to go. I was tempted to talk about my panic attacks while I had the doctor's ear, but didn't.
We swung by the book store on the way home. I got a Trains and Classic Trains magazines which thrilled me to death. Mom got a couple of books which I didn't pay attention to what they were. Mom likes those Harlequin romance type books which would just bore me to tears.
The traffic was better on the way home. It had cleared somewhat. I was glad to make it home without a panic attack. My biggest fear of leaving the house these days. I just love spending time with Mom and we had a good morning. I was sad to see her leave after we ran to the grocery store to get me some more Sprite Zeros.
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