January 27, 2014 During my separation from my husband, we saw each other in a store parking lot one morning. He told me that he had planned to see his doctor about his medication that day. He reminded me of my concern about drug interactions, his taking his pills differently than prescribed, and taking pills that the doctor hadn't prescribed. It had been my wish to meet his doctor to tell him anything that my husband had left out. I wanted him to have a correct diagnosis. I agreed to meet my husband at the clinic, after shopping. Our wait turned out to be several hours, because the clinic was closed for lunch and the doctor showed up late by a couple of hours after the clinic had reopened. While waiting for the doctor to return, my husband told me that he had learned my address. I had not given it to him, because I was in protective housing. Learning that he now knew where I lived was scary enough. What made matters worse was what took place later that night. I learned in an e-mail that he had come to my place, used his key to my car, and placed something in it. I cried myself to sleep thinking about that tape recorder being in the car. I really didn't want to put myself in a position again to have to record him.
