The Storming of The Fort

Well, she got me. She got me good.

It took me years to erect The Fort, a heavily fortified structure of boundaries and more boundaries. I began construction around 2005, right around the time I realized there was no way to defeat my opponent. I had no choice but to retreat. And hide. Who was this terrifying foe? My mother-in-law, of course.

One seemingly small, innocuous bit of information leaked to her about Mr. Sticks would be ultimately turned around on me. I was then given detailed instructions on what I was going to do to help him or fix things for him. She would then retreat back to her burrow where she could kick back and relax, knowing The Fool was going to be doing all of the dirty work. Problem solved.

God forbid it was a medical issue. Oy vey. I was expected to accompany Sticks to the doctors, ask questions, take notes. That is what wives do. When I would remind her that Sticks would refuse to let me come into the office with him, she would tell me I needed to set him straight and leave him no choice but to let me come. Muscle my way into the office. He, of course, would not cave.

I, meanwhile, would go into the an emotional tailspin and a jag of circular thinking, resenting her for putting this task on my plate, hating myself for letting her do it and going over and over in my mind how I should have handled it. I would marinate in resentment, thinking somehow that if I couldn't carry out her instructions, I would be seen as a failure. Total insanity.

But one day I got wise and said, "No more," and disengaged. No matter how hard she tried to pull me back in, I was untouchable. I would offer no information, avoid phone calls, resist making plans. The key was not to be alone with her. Mr. Sticks would have to be present. If she was able to get me by phone or unannounced visit, I never offered any information and skillfully dodge loaded questions. My boundaries worked well. The fort was inpenitrable.

And this week she got in. I'd like to say she blew a hole in the side of it, but unfortunately, it was by my own error in strategy.

A little background. Mr. Sticks had been having an irregular heartbeat on and off for a couple weeks and went to see a cardiologist last week. He had seen the same doctor almost ten years ago when he was paddled back into rhythm (I don't remember if they were still using paddles or not, but he had to be put back into rhythm nonetheless). By the way, his cardiologist's parting words were "no more than two drinks a day." Uh, yeah.

So this past Friday morning, he went back to the cardiologist for all the tests and to have a monitor put on. Later that morning, my MIL calls me and asks if I want to get together and do something with the kids. I hesitated and started to come up with a reason we couldn't but reminded myself that I was trying to lead a more honest existence. So I fessed up to her that I was going for a walk with the boys and asked if she wanted to come. We have been sort of chummy lately so I didn't think it was going to be too bad. I wasn't thinking at all about Mr. Sticks' doctor visit. (It is easy for me to forget significant things going on and I do it often). So she shows up, we go out for the walk, she is going on about Whitney Houston and Jeremy Lin and what-not and I'm kind of getting into a relaxed state of mind and with that she asks, "Where's [Mr. Sticks]?"

I hesitate. Am I supposed to tell her or will she worry? Will he tell her and then I will I then be accused of withholding information? Can I just say I don't know? No, no, honesty, right?

I told her where he was and she got very concerned, of course. I tried to explain to her that the doctor concluded that he wasn't having an A-fib, but that they were just taking precautions.

Then came the question. "Why didn't you go with him?"

The fort started to shake and crumble. Over toppled the bastions and the bulwarks, the gunneries and the strong holds. She was in. She was charging. I was like a quivering hermit crab with no shell. "I had the kids."

"Why didn't you ask me to babysit?"

"He doesn't let me go with him to these things. You know that."

"Oh come on. All over the world, there are husbands and wives going to appointments together. The patient is overwhelmed and the wife listens and takes notes and asks questions. Next appointment, I will come over, I will watch the kids. You will go to the appointment with him."

"He will say no. Why don't you tell him these plans and you get him to agree?" A small rally on my part.

"I always think these things are none of my business."

"He thinks it's none of my business either so maybe you can convince him." I'm up on my feet again.

"Well, maybe I will," she says, a little weakly. "I'll stop over some time and talk to him."

"Come tomorrow," I say, swinging my mace around over my head. "I'm taking the boys and going up north for the day."

"Well, I'll be watching the Whitney Houston funeral, but maybe at some point..." she trails off.

You'd think I could move on after my valiant comeback but my head spun around for the rest of the day until I finally picked up the phone and called my sponsor and told her the whole deal. She is so fabulous. She says, "Oh, please. He is a grown man. You cannot force him to let you into the doctor's office with him. If she brings it up again, you tell her she can go with him to the doctor's if she wants. Let the two of them hash it out. Throw them back in the soup!"

Then we made a plan to meet and figure out how to rebuild The Fort with new boundaries.