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Dr. Jeffrey Fudin - Class of 1976
Submitted by Fran Olson Gustafson 1965 <fgustafson917@gmail.com> on 29/May/2022
71.223.74.182
 Dr. Jeffrey Fudin, age 63, passed away peacefully on Friday, May 27, 2022. He was taken from this world too early, but not before spending his final year doing what he spent his entire life doing, giving back through teaching, humor, and caring for others. Jeff grew up in Newburgh, N.Y. and graduated from Newburgh Free Academy before heading further North to Albany College of Pharmacy for his bachelor's degree and eventually his Pharm.D. It was "up North" that he met an amazing girl, Robin, who he would eventually marry and build a life together with. His professional work was prolific and has shaped a generation of pain specialists around the world. He was a diplomate to the Academy of Integrative Pain Management and a fellow to the American College of Clinical Pharmacy, the American Society of Health-system Pharmacists, and the Federation of State Medical Board. Dr. Fudin was a section editor for Pain Medicine, co-editor-at-large for Practical Pain Management, founder and chairman of Professionals for Rational Opioid Monitoring & Pharmacotherapy, and peer reviewer for several professional journals. He participated in developing practice guidelines for use of opioids in chronic noncancer pain and participated in national and international guideline development for various pain types. He practiced as a clinical pharmacy specialist and director, PGY-2 Pharmacy Pain Residency Programs at the Stratton Veterans Administration Medical Center in Albany. He held adjunct faculty positions at Western New England University College of Pharmacy in Springfield, Mass., and Albany College of Pharmacy & Health Sciences. He was a founder and member of the board of trustees for the Society of Palliative Care Pharmacists. He was appointed as a board member to the New York State Office of Professional Medical Conduct. He was the owner and managing editor for paindr.com and founder and CEO of Remitigate, a software development company. A lecturer, writer, editor, teacher, and researcher, with over 350 publications on pain management topics, he truly was a pioneer in his field. In the broader healthcare community, Jeff may be best known for the brave path he chose as a Federal Whistleblower to right egregious wrongs occurring in a cancer research program. However, Jeff will be remembered by most of us not for what he did, but how he made us feel. With an incredible sense of humor and an unmatched energy that led him to play "gigs" on the weekends for countless weddings and Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, Jeff was best at lifting people's spirits. He had a deep love of music and could be found playing the sax whenever the mood felt right or a friend wanted to get the energy going at a party. His happy place was the ocean, spending time in the warm sea breeze with Robin and relaxing with friends in Amelia Island, the Jersey Shore, or Assateague Island when the kids were really kids. He is survived by his loving wife of 39 years, Robin Fudin, who he will cherish throughout eternity; his father, Gilbert Fudin; his siblings, Terry Fudin and Debbie Radowitz; his four children (and their spouses who were like children to him), Jason Fudin (Lindsey Learmonth), Sarah Hermalyn (Andrew Hermalyn), Hannah Fudin (Kris Colley), and Shirah Bettinger (Jeff Bettinger); his seven beloved grandbabies, Jonah Fudin, Anna Hermalyn, Aria Bettinger, Penny Fudin, Emily Hermalyn, Asher Bettinger, and Jethro Colley; and his "extended family" of friends, colleagues, and students. Services will be in the Congregation Beth Emeth, 100 Academy Road, Albany on Wednesday, June 1, at 11:30 a.m. Interment will follow in the Beth Emeth Cemetery in Loudonville. A celebration of life party will commence at 3 p.m. at Elm Avenue Park in Delmar. Casual dress please. Shiva will be held Thursday through Saturday. In his honor, the Society of Pain and Palliative Care Pharmacists has established a non-profit foundation with a singular focus, to carry on Jeff's mission of educating and supporting the next generation of pain management and palliative care professionals. In lieu of flowers, it was Jeff's wish that any memorial tributes be made in the form of charitable donations to the Dr. Jeffrey Fudin Memorial Foundation: https://gofund.me/db4d4e95. For directions or to leave a condolence message for the family, please visit
www.levinememorialchapel.com
 
https://paindr.com/savoring-the-lemonade-thats-left/
I write this short prologue to what could likely be the last lemonade cancer
journey post before the grand finale. I love life; I love you all; and I am
truly inspired and honestly believe it is all of you readers and your comments,
texts, calls, and social media posts that have kept me thriving for so many
months. YOU are the persons that with love, devotion, and prayers have allowed
me to enjoy so many of your communications, visits, special milestones with my
family, and meeting three new grandchildren. So, it is way past the time I thank
all of you for what YOU have done for me. I asked my son Jason (with input from
his siblings) to wrap things up with a summary blog. Another may still be coming
from “Little” Jeff. I was tempted to edit this, but it’s so sincere and from the
heart, I just couldn’t do it. For those anti-opioid zealots out there, just know
I am typing this intro after taking hydromorphone and alprazolam, “living” proof
that people can be functional on such medications at the right doses for the
right reasons.
Jason and family, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done
for me throughout your lives, and especially these last few weeks when you all
kept your promise to “push me“. I will be watching over you for eternity. Here’s
what my dear son had to say following our family week in Florida.
With my dad having joined the ranks of hospice and having entered the end-stage
part of his disease, us kids and family are faced with an entirely unfamiliar
situation. By force of nature dad is now the one in need of help and support
(even in writing his blog). We aren’t at the “end”, but it is near. And in that
nearness, there has been a scramble to squeeze the last drops of dad-time out
for us kids and almost more importantly, papa-time with the grandkids.
Channeling my best Jeff Fudin, I’d like to share his and the family journey over
the last couple weeks so you can live it with us (and potentially gain a deeper
understanding of the life of a patient and his family during this time).
The Bad News
For timeline, I’ll pick up where Dr. Gudin left off, the start of hospice on
April 4th. With news of my dad’s decline I flew to Albany to help out and assess
the situation. Things looked bleak, but with a glimmer of hope. While it
appeared that my dad was dying from dehydration and starvation, it didn’t seem
to be the cancer directly. We figured if he could get nutrients and fluid, maybe
he still had a few good months left. On Tuesday, April 5th, we had our standard
sibling Zoom call (me, Sarah, Hannah, Shirah) to discuss the current status of
things. We were all hopeful. That hope was shattered the next day when my
parents and I spoke to Dr. Onc. The issues he was facing were indicative of the
end-stage of his disease. She explained that dying from the secondary effects of
the disease (inability to eat or drink) was actually common and a potentially
better way to go then to squander the last number of weeks of life by beating
yourself up with chemo or ineffective treatments that artificially prop up the
body like total parenteral nutrition (TPN). She told him that the choice for his
treatment was his. We hung up the phone and cried.
My dad then turned to me and my mom and said “This is it, I’m really dying… If
it’s the last thing I do and I need to crawl, we are going to Florida with the
family. I’m not dead yet”. After some logistics discussions (what happens if he
dies in Florida, how are we going to really get him down there, etc) we all said
that barring some unforeseen event we were going to try to get as many of his
family to Florida as possible for a week of fun in the sun!
The Fun in the Sun
My family (wife and kids) and sister Hannah’s family had already planned to
either spend a week in Albany together with my parents or, if he was really
able, down in Florida.
With news that Florida was really happening, we made arrangements and got
excited for a week of beach and pool time. My other sisters, Sarah and Shirah,
made plans for flights later in the week as well (their kids and spouses had
just spent the weekend with my parents so wouldn’t be joining). News of this
once-in-a-lifetime trip started spreading to others.
Zach and Shane Gray (the neighborhood kids that count my dad as a sort of pseudo
parent) decided to fly in from the West Coast for a few days to join the fun.
They shacked up with their parents, Becky and Barry, who were also there for the
scene and are some of my parents closest friends. People drove up as well, like
my dad’s brother Terry, his father Gil, and “savta” Davida. Also friends Andy
and Alexis swung by for some hang out time. Navigating my dad’s physical state
led to a few bumps and a bad day or two here and there, but it was a small price
to pay for memories we will cherish forever.
We played on the beach, made cocktails (he just took a sip or two), did days and
dinners by the pool, shopped in Amelia’s historic downtown with the necessary
break for ice cream, told stories and relived memories from so many good years.
Most of us ate way too much, my dad had to settle for burnt bacon sandwiches
which he said he loved (I guess anything is better than not eating at all) and
his favorite paella (which he paid the price for later, but was still worth it).
The Difficult Parts
The fun came at a cost. There were many hard exhausting days for my dad where he
felt like he had run a marathon, but still had a hundred miles to go (the
exhaustion was painful to watch). Hours of vomiting in Florida and on airplanes,
teary eyed confessions that he sometimes wished he was just dead already because
the fight was too much. I guess all of this was to be expected, this is the
bargain he and we signed up for.
What was much less palatable for me, as someone who does not normally interact
with the healthcare system, is how much money and policy (“policy” which is
really just about money) effect everything. The hours and days (mind you these
are FINAL DAYS) that are spent trying to navigate a system designed to drive
people to just stay put and die already is sickening. There were a number of
“hard parts” within the system, but I will focus on one, HOSPICE.
In the Albany area there is only one hospice company (this is driven by
government regulation/policy). While the nurses are some of the kindest people
you will ever meet, the administrative side of the business is anything but. As
a true monopoly, they are in the business of exploiting their position for
financial gain and reducing any and all “liability” which they can do because
customers don’t have the choice to go with any other group. Short of a patient
paying out of pocket, hospice gets to dictate how a patient spends their end of
life. In our case, Albany hospice refused to sign a travel contract with a
company in Florida. They encouraged us to “revoke” NY hospice, then figure out
something else when were in Florida, and then re-enroll in NY hospice upon our
return. What? Apparently travel contracts between hospice companies are common,
but a few months ago the Albany hospice company decided that that was less
profitable so they no longer did them. I called them, pleaded, and expressed my
exasperation that the spirit of hospice was for comfortable end-of-life care and
that their policy had the effect of trapping my dad in a geographic prison or
gambling on what healthcare would look like for him while traveling. After days
of threats and a ton of work to find and prepare to sign up with a Florida
hospice company for a week, they finally relented. Meanwhile, the hospice
company in Florida, VITAS, was a dream. The doctor (Director) assigned to my dad
personally showed up and chatted with him for a half hour. They seemed to take
the spirit of hospice seriously, constantly asking what they could do for my dad
to get the most out of this special (likely) last week ever in Florida with his
remaining time he had left in this world. Although it did bring a smile to his
face that the family left behind would enjoy this piece of paradise forever with
fond memories of building and furnishing it. Upon our return to NY, the nonsense
started again. The Albany group decided on policies that would limit my dad’s
ability to get IV fluids regularly on an as needed basis based on assessment
(another large battle he recently won). Recall though that my dad still has all
his mental faculties and spent years making such assessments for similarly
situated patients, so really this decision should have been a no-brainer from
the start.
A note to those responsible for governance in hospice, government policy and
regulation has a real impact on real people. I am sure we just got a small taste
of what happens when the government creates monopolies who financially benefit
from providing the least expensive care relative to how they are paid. Given a
stable of healthcare professionals and friends, we were able to solve things for
my dad, but there is no way that is the norm. And I don’t even fully blame the
Albany hospice group, they are likely just responding to a situation created by
New York through its policy and enforcement.
New York… do better! Do better for people like my father who spent a lifetime
caring for patients and being an advocate. Do better for our community of
hardworking, caring citizens who at their most vulnerable are really in your
hands. Do better for what it means to be a New Yorker and an American. Put
politics aside and just do the most basic and humanistic things better.
What’s Next
The amount of awake and enjoyable hours in a day for my dad continues to
shorten. He has become very focused on visiting (in many cases) various family,
friends, and colleagues for what appears to me a shortened opportunity, and what
happens when he is not here, which I guess makes sense. For all of us that love
him so deeply, we will continue to selfishly squeeze every last drop out of this
lemon. We will enjoy whatever time we have left with our papa, dad, brother,
son, friend, mentor, neighbor, colleague because he brings us so much joy and we
just can’t get enough. Love you dad 😊
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