"Your hands are shaking something terribly," my mother told me this morning.
I could barely pick up a glass of fruit punch to take a drink.
"Are you okay?"
"It's these damn anxiety attacks," I replied.
Mom walked over to sit next to me and held my hands.
"Calm down," she said. "It is going to be okay."
Within moments I was feeling a little better. All it takes sometimes is a sympathetic soul to help.
"My hands shake too because of my medications," my mother told me.
She held up her hands and they, too, were trembling. Mom then got up and went into my bathroom to get some of my Klonopin.
"Here take two of these," she said handing me the pills.
I try not to take them for fears my father will quit giving them to me. He says I will get addicted to them.
Mom left and I felt so much better. I wonder if she knows what she means to me. She, too, is schizophrenic and understands what we go through. That little bit of TLC made all the difference in my day today.