So we talked with the boys about Grandpa tonight.

My heart is aching.

Dani brought over this wonderful book from Angela (thanks, mamas) called The Next Place

Zander is always excited for new books, and asked about, so we climbed in my lap, and he read it to me.

As he read the words, I was filled with emotion. The book was the perfect segue into the conversation we needed to have.

We talked about what they already know, that Grandpa was very sick and wasn’t going to get better. And then we simply told them that meant that Grandpa was going to die soon.

They were both quiet. Zevan turned quickly and smiled at me, I think because he thought I was joking. We asked them if they understood what we meant. They both nodded and said that they did.

We talked about Logan and Bartleby.

I asked Zander how he felt, and he said, “Sad.” And we told him that we felt sad, too, because it is a sad thing.

Then he starting sobbing. Heart-wrenching sobs as he clung to my neck. Which of course, made both Doug and I start sobbing along with him.

Zander has such a tender soul, and I knew it was going to be so hard for him. It was too much to bear. His sobs just ripped into my heart.

We encouraged him to cry and to feel sad and let him know that if he wanted to ask anything, just to ask.

Zevan just observed.

Then Zander went over to Doug and hugged him. Then Zevan climbed in my lap. Zander moved over to the big purple chair, and was so sad. Doug went over and held him. Zevan noticed The Next Place and asked me to read it to him. So I did. And Doug talked with Zander quietly while he cried.

We carried the boys up to bed and laid with them for a long while. I had one boy under each arm, and just wept quietly for a long time. Zevan dozed off, and I wrapped myself around Zander and caressed his face for a while. I noticed he wasn’t sleepy, so I asked him if he wanted to read something for a little while.

He did, and he chose “Super Diaper Baby.” I looked over his shoulder for a while, then he asked me to read it to him. So I did, and he laughed, which woke Zevan, and I ended up reading to both of them. After the book, we turned off the lights and laid down again.

Zander sniffled, and said, “I hope Grandpa is alive tomorrow.”

I assured him that he probably would be and we would visit with him.

Zevan asked, “How long until he dies?”

I told him that we didn’t know, but that we needed to enjoy our time with him while we can.

In a small sad voice, Zander said, “Well, at least I have you guys.”

I hugged him to me and said, “You sure do. And you have Grandma. And Lolo and Lola. And a lot of people who love you very much.”

I told him how it was very sad, and that it was going to be hard, but that we would help each other through.

Zevan rolled closer to me, and seemed to be sniffling, close to crying. I told him that he could cry if he wanted to. He didn’t, but made some very sad sounds.

We talked about how we would visit Grandpa tomorrow and give him big hugs.

Sigh.

Oh my heart hurts. I thought I was cried out, but now it begins anew. I don’t know how we are going to do this, but I know that we will.

We were at a cook-out last night and the boys were playing Rock Paper Scissors Tag in the backyard.

I was talking with some folks and heard my child crying, so I went to investigate.

He wasn’t crying, he was screaming. Doug was carrying him in and reported, “He fell on a cactus.”

His hands were filled with cactus needles. Tiny, flesh colored so they were nearly invisible, cactus needles.

We took him in to the bathroom, in search of tweezers. Anywhere you touched him around his hands, he screamed. It was awful.

He stuck me with on of the needles when his hand hit mine – and we both yelled, “Ow!” at the same time. Those suckers hurt!

Once we tracked down tweezers, we quickly realized the lighting in the bathroom wasn’t adequate, and he was just constantly screaming.

I grabbed him with every intention of bringing him to the emergency room.

Once we got him outside, I sat him down for a second to try and calm him down, and realized that the light was much better outside. So, I took the tweezers and started trying to take the needles out again. They were everywhere. The sides of his hand, his inner wrist, around his little fingers and mostly in the palm.

He winced at every extraction, and after a few minutes, calmed down enough to actually point out where he felt some of them. Johanna tried to distract him, and then her son Paxton did a really great job of distracting him. After one hand was mostly clear, we got some ice from the cooler to help numb him.

Once the one hand was clear, he was such a trooper for the other hand. We tried duct tape to see if that would pull out multiple needles at once, but I think by that time, we had gotten most of them out. As we finished up, I told him that he could have some cherry pie when we were done. That gave him much to look forward to.

I ran the ice along this hands and wrists to see if there were any more, and said his hands were clear. We wiped him down with an antiseptic wipe, then headed inside to wash up for cherry pie.

As he had his cherry pie, I indulged in a shot of tequila to calm my frazzled nerves.

And after his cherry pie, the boys played Wii the rest of the night.

When we were leaving, Brian dubbed him “Cactus Boy.”

When we got home hours later, he complained that his hand hurt again (hmmm, didn’t hurt while playing Wii). After child interrogation, he finally revealed that it felt like he had another needle in his hand. Sure enough, with the help of a magnifying glass, I found and extracted it.

Whew! That was an ordeal.

Note to self: get Bactine or some other numbing spray for the first aid kit.

Last night Doug and Zevan went to spend the night with mom and dad. Grandpa was thrilled to have Zevan over.

I decided it might be too much for them to have both boys over so soon since they get so rowdy when they are together. So Zander and I had a nice night to ourselves. We watched some episodes of the Penguins of Madagascar and then played Star Wars The Clone Wars: Lightsaber Duels.

This morning we went out to breakfast at Village Inn together and had a great conversation about the books he’s been reading and what his favorite things are right now (Bionicles, dinosaurs, knights and dragons, Star Wars).

After breakfast, we came home and reunited with Zevan and Dad.

Then I got a call from Georgiana. We’re getting hit hard and hit fast with news about Doug’s dad.

The hospice nurse practitioner came by on Friday, and after examining him, dropped the bomb that Dad’s current symptoms, with his skin discoloration and other issues, are pointing to his death being much closer than we originally thought.

So, we’re circling the wagons, so to speak.

Gary and his wife Debbie are already here from California. Their kids, Kristine and Dustin are coming from California soon, along with Dustin’s son Jacob, who has never met his great-grandfather before now. Their son Geoff and his wife Sarah live in Denver, and they will come down with their children, Gavin and Gia tomorrow.

Greg and his daughter Jessica will be coming down from Ft. Collins today, too. Tomorrow we are having a big family dinner at mom and dad’s house.

I think I saw a manifestation of the toll it’s taking on Zevan today. We were at a birthday party, and I stayed for about an hour, and then decided to run an errand and grab a drink and a bite to eat about a mile from where the party was. I checked in with both boys, and let them know I’d be back to pick them up in less than an hour. I asked Zevan if he wanted to stay or go with me, and he chose to stay.

I went to Shuga’s to pick up my credit card, which I left there last Tuesday, and decided to stay and have a drink and a bowl of soup. I had taken my first sips of my drink, and the soup had just arrived, when I got the call from the party. Zevan was crying and was asking for me. So, I took the soup and pita bread to go, paid, and took one last sip of my blushing geisha before heading back to rescue Zevan.

Sigh.

He pretty much clung to me for 10 minutes after I got there. I asked what happened, and he just said that he wanted me there. Now, this could be only because he spent the night without me last night, but I think that the situation with Grandpa also has something to do with it.

I think tomorrow, before heading over for the family dinner, we will have to talk more specifically with Zander and Zevan about what is going on. It will be *so* hard, but I want them to be included in what is going on, as much as they can handle.

Deep breaths…

I have such wonderful friends. I’m so glad for the kind words, the prayers and even more, the shared experiences with death and dying – either when they were children themselves, or how they spoke with their children about it.

THE FAMILY
My sister in law Georgiana is the heart and soul of the Scott family. She’s got dad’s power of attorney to make the decisions. She was the one at the hospital during the most harrowing time, trying to understand everything the doctors were telling her in order so she could explain things more simply for mom. She kept me and her 3 brothers updated on dad’s status. She takes pages of handwritten notes – from the doctors, from the hospice nurse.

My brother in law Greg has been down from Ft Collins as much as possible. He brought his children to see Grandpa while he was still in the hospital. I saw how hard it was on Jessica to see her grandpa in that hospital bed – she’s in her 20s. I’m not sure how much Greg has told Joshua (he’s 10), but Josh seemed to handle it well.

My brother in law Gary has called several times from California and spoke with everyone – once we get the routine settled for mom & dad here, I think he’s coming to visit.

TALKING TO THE ZBOYS ABOUT DEATH AND DYING
We are planning to be very honest with the boys about what is going on.

They know about death with a few contexts. Mostly in the circle of life type way by watching documentaries about animals and dinosaurs. And then we had the two dogs die while they were both old enough to miss them.

They are so close to their grandpa – they see 2-3 times a week, and have known him their whole lives. I mean, he picked them up from school just a few days before he went to the hospital. It has all happened so fast.

The tricky thing is that we don’t know at this point if he will live a few more days or a few more months. It’s less about death and more the DYING piece of it that I’m finding hard to explain.

I’m meeting with a mom this weekend who worked in hospice care, to see if she can give me some guidelines so I can do my best at how to best talk with them about everything going on.

AND ME?
I need to find a better way to channel this grieving-induced stress…

I’m feeling so sad and so overwhelmed.

Dad came home from the hospital today. He wanted to see the boys, so we came over with them. When they came in, kind of tentatively, I think they were relieved to see him in the usual Grandpa’s chair, wrapped in a blanket, as Grandpa usually is. They went down to say hello. And Grandpa gave his usual loving greetings to them.

The hospice nurse arrived, and we herded the boys upstairs so they didn’t have to hear that whole conversation.

They were both obsessed with the latest Captain Underpants books that we picked up at the library on our way over, so they were engrossed in their books, which was good.

It’s just so heartbreaking. He is back to being himself. But his body is failing him. Specifically, his kidneys. And now they are telling us that they attribute the kidney failure to the years of heavy Ibuprofen use to manage his pain from rheumatoid arthritis. Which he took on doctor’s orders. WTF? Why didn’t they mention this as a possible complication? I don’t even want to go there.

Deep breath.

Anyway, it turns out one of his kidneys is non-functioning, and the other is at 30%. No option for dialysis or transplant. So that’s it. He’s home and hospice care is about keeping him comfortable until he dies.

Until he dies.

And here are the words I simply am unable to use with the boys right now. They know that Grandpa is sick. They know that his kidneys don’t work (not sure if they know exactly what that means, but…). They know that he now has wheelchair and will be sleeping downstairs at his house now.

“Will it be like that for the rest of his life?” Zander asks.

“Or until he gets better?” Zevan asks.

“Well, it doesn’t look like he is going to get better. Right now, we just want Grandpa to be comfortable.”

“He’s not going to get better?” Zevan wonders. Zander looks contemplative.

And that’s pretty much it for that conversation, which was before we went to visit him.

Tonight, at bedtime, I asked them if they had any questions about Grandpa.

Zander asked, “Is Grandpa more comfortable?”

“Oh yes, I think he is very glad to be at home and sleep in his own house.”

“Oh, that’s good then.”

Zevan didn’t have a question.

And I’m still wondering what’s appropriate to tell them. I want to be honest with them, but I don’t want them to be scared. How can I do that when *I’m* scared? I haven’t even cried in front of them about it. I’m not ready to answer their questions yet.

It was hard when Logan died. Not long after that, Zevan thought I died, when I went away on a trip.

Then more recently when Bart died, and the boys were witness to it.

At this point, we don’t even know how long it will be before the kidney failure causes Dad’s death. And, let me tell you, I’m still reeling over the matter-of-factness of it during the discussion with the hospice nurse.

I just have no idea how to do this. I want to be honest and natural about it to them, but this is really my first death, too – to someone this close to me. So I’m just trying to figure it all out.

This first week, there is a plan to have someone staying the night with mom and dad while they get settled into their routine.

Then, I plan to come over a few times a week to keep mom company and also stay with dad so she can run her errands and get a break.

Mom helped me through my hardest time with the boys – and literally saved my sanity. I only hope I can provide her the same kind of support now. We had a brief talk today about Dad, and I asked her how she was holding up. She said she was just trying to understand everything.

And with Doug, I’ve asked him how he is doing with everything. And he just told me how he dislikes the whole “medical thing.” I think he must still be taking it all in. The finality of it is so hard to grasp. We’ve been through so many ups and downs this week, it’s dizzying and impossible to know what to believe.

So that’s where we are now. We’ll just take each day as it comes, I guess.

So, I have been extremely lax in the workout dept.

This week I made a pact to do *something* 5 days this week.

Monday, I did a tiny triathlon trial. I went to the Aquatic Fitness Center and swam 800 yards in 17:30. That is fast for me!

I was planning to do a swim/bike brick, and go for a ride around the lake. But I forgot my shoes! DOH! So I drove back home and got my shoes on and went for a ride up Mesa Road. I rode for 4 miles. My splits were 8/7/4/4. I got off my bike and went for a short 2 mi run. Man, were my calves tight!

During this trial I ran into some logistical issues. Like, hmmm, I can’t run wearing a swim suit. No support up top.

For that day, I changed into a jog bra and top, but that doesn’t seem practical for the race.

So I posed the question to the local trichics and ended up ordering a tri tank and tri shorts from SkirtSportsOutlet.com.

The pieces arrived on Thursday, but I haven’t had a chance to try them on yet.

On Tuesday night I went to the climbing gym with Tiffany. Totally burned out my forearms.

Wednesday morning I went for a 5k run in Monument Valley Park. It felt pretty good to just run again. I think I need to recalibrate my Nike+ iPod though – it clocked me as doing 3.21 mi in 30:53 – which is pretty much me at my fastest. I’m pretty sure my gait has shortened since the injury, which would certainly throw the calibration off to make me seem faster.

On Thursday, I went for a more leisurely 750 swim which took me about 20 minutes

Friday was the boys’ last day of school where they spent the day at Thorndale Park, so I did a lot of walking and a bit of box hauling. I figured that was enough for the day.

So I did *something* physical each day this week. It’s a start.

This week was the last week of school. It’s unfortunate that it had to coincide with all the trauma going on with Doug’s dad, but that’s life, right?

Thursday afternoon was Zander’s kindergarten transition/graduation ceremony. The kindergartners, were moving from the primary class to the lower elementary class.

Montessori schools are divided into multi-age classrooms – and spend 3 years in the same classroom.

Zander has spent three school years with his teachers, Miss Catherine and Miss Loulou, in the same classroom. Next year, he will be with a new teacher in a new classroom – in a new building.

The ceremony was so touching. The kindergartners performed 5 songs – just the cutest performance ever. It was so touching. My heart was so full.

Then they were called on stage to receive a “diploma” from the principal and a yellow rose from on older student. It was really wonderful.

I’ll post pictures as soon as I download them to this computer.

Today (Friday) was the last day of school. The plan was for all of the primary classes to walk to Thorndale Park for the day. When we woke up, it was cool, cloudy and rainy. It was still up in the air whether or not we would still go. They said to come back at 9:00 to see what we would do. I went with some parents to Starbucks until it was time to come back.

The walk was a go. I parked my car at Thorndale and walked with Lisa (another parent) to try and catch them on their way to the park. We missed their route, but caught up with them eventually and walked with them to Thorndale.

Due to budgetary restrictions, the city closed the bathrooms at the park. My parents live half a block from there, so we ended up taking about 4-5 bathroom runs to their house.

The kids had a really great time. The sun came out for a while, and we had snack and lunch there.

When it was time to go back, Zander and Zevan decided they didn’t want to go back to school, so we stayed at the park with friends (who will be attending BV next year). The kids said good-bye to their teachers.

Tonight was the farewell ceremony at Buena Vista. There was a performance by a singing group – which went on a little too long for some of the kids, including mine. Then the children sang their farewell song, “You’re a Grand Old School,” to the school (yes, I totally choked up on that one). Then there was a speech from a woman who had attended Buena Vista as a kindergarten student in 1929. She told some really interesting stories (again, went on a little long for my kids). Then there was a slideshow of photos from the dance and field day. Then we all sang “You’re a Grand Old School” Then the reception with cookies and lemonade.

There was a really good turn-out. Lots of parents, staff and current/former students.

I’m really going to miss that place. I’m sad we have to leave it.