Grieving

I don't know how many of you knew this--I'm no longer working at Great Lakes--currently unemployed, as a matter of fact. I can't remember if I mentioned this in my other blogs or not--in a way it was a blessing, because it would've been much harder for me to spend time in Beloit during Dad's illness and everything if I had still been working. . . For that, I am glad. Mom is glad because she thinks I was stuck in a rut. I still remember when Dad told me he was proud of me for having a good job with good benefits, like I was finally taking care of myself. . . I don't remember Dad ever telling me he was proud of anything I had ever done before--I wonder now if maybe that was why I held on for as long as I did. At any rate, that part is done. I still have friends at Great Lakes, and I do not regret my time there. I learned many things, about myself and other people--I talked to a few people who became heroes to me because of their struggles and other things they've gone through that I only knew because I was there. . . So many things to remember and reflect on that I didn't have time to consider before, though I'm sure that's more because I didn't allow myself that time more than anything else.

Also, during that time I prepared for a mission, started working at the temple instead, had my back surgery, moved on to the University Ward. . . I grew a lot. One of my dear friends that I met through work (Amanda Jensen) said that I definitely have changed in the time I worked there--that I was visibly still angry and working on my grief at the beginning, and, well, that I'm not anymore. I don't know why I never believe myself that I'm getting better--I guess, in my head I still feel as stubborn and rebellious as ever. . . lol--it reminds me of when I'm tired and would hang out with John Wiltbank and would start being sharper with him the later it got--he never thought I crossed any lines, but I'm much more sarcastic in my head than I ever am verbally, so I would always apologize for everything, and he never noticed a difference. . . :)

So, now I'm living on the upper east side of Madison, just barely in the 2nd ward boundaries, impatiently waiting for the day I can go back to a family ward. I know I can change whenever I want, but I never really understood why I had to go there in the first place, and so I'm not sure I'm done with whatever it is I was supposed to do/learn there. So I'm still here.

This fall has been hard on me in so many ways--not only did we lose Dad, but, of course, any time you grieve it brings back memories of other grief--this October also marked the seventh year since Jeremy and Grandma Fairbank died. That's an episode I don't want to repeat--I almost feel as though I am doomed to; I don't know why October hates me so much! But something that made it much harder was that Lisa Wiltbank and Timothy Madsen (usually referred to on this blog as "Grant" to keep him seperate from the other Timothys in my life) both moved away this fall. Lisa went to Bloomington, Indiana, for graduate school, and Grant, well, he just left.

First, Lisa. She is one of my dearest friends--she helped me join the singles ward, she was my last true roommate (as opposed to housemates and apartmentmates). We got along swimmingly; she can always make me laugh, and, more than that, she recognizes when that's a good thing, and she uses it wisely. She's been my partner in crime for so long! I really didn't know what to do without her. Her leaving wouldn't've been so bad except she didn't do well out there at the beginning. My heart ached for her so much--I've known and loved the Wiltbanks for so long I can't imagine anyone not adoring her instantly--and I couldn't go take care of her. Thankfully, she came home for General Conference weekend and we talk often enough for me to see that things are going better for her--we're going to make it.

Now, Grant. He was the friend that I talked to about all my problems with--the one I talked to about my depression in particular. He understood. When he didn't understand the emotions by themselves, he was able to take my personality in context to my words and understand it through that filter. It's always been difficult for me to explain myself to others in that way--he made it easy. I've tried with other people, and sometimes they look at me like I'm from a different planet--I never felt that way when I talked to him. He'd been talking about leaving, but it felt like how we all talk about leaving--at least, how I do--we talk and nothing ever happens.

This spring he made it very clear he didn't expect to be here for another year, and that made it very real very fast--like I was scared to make any plans or even expect him here for my birthday because who knew when he would leave? I really rather panicked about this. Not so much about "Where would he go? What will he do?", much more selfish instead: "How could he do this to me? Why is he doing this?" etc. Until he gave me a much more stable time frame to expect this to happen (in the fall as opposed to any day), I was panicked. To me, it seemed he couldn't get away fast enough, and I personalize everything, so I was trying to figure out what I had done wrong. I remember when he was talking about quitting from Epic and how happy he seemed about it--when he actually gave his notice, he was happy. I had never seen him like that before, and I somehow didn't understand that it was because he had been so miserable here. To tell you the truth, that thought didn't cross my mind until he was gone and he mentioned it to me--he hadn't even realized how awful he had felt until he left (see email inserts below). I think I could've dealt with it well enough, but he didn't want to talk to me--didn't want me to call him, said he has "no privacy" at his parents' house.

That's about when October happened. I was OK until after the funeral--that's when the cracks of stress became apparent to everyone else, anyway--I practically scrambled away once Aide left. I had spent about a week and a half surrounded by family, and their emotions as well as the energy spent smothering my own feelings were overwhelming me. I went home to Madison, and promptly continued to stifle. I didn't want to worry Meghan or my family, didn't want Lisa to hurt for me like I had for her. . . I haven't been particularly social most of the year, but it got worse, to the point where you really did need to come see me to get me to leave the house to do almost anything. Grant knew what had happened--I did chat with him about it, and sent him the email about the funeral, and things, but. . . Nothing. No response, no reassurance, no jokes or anything.

Finally I used something Meghan was writing about for an excuse to call. I became frustrated after talking about that, probably sputtered a bit about not hearing from him, then hung up. Then I wrote him an email:

Thu, Oct 29, 2009, Subject: Blah

OK, already ready to claim the craziness. Ummm. . . I can't imagine that you don't already know everything I have to say, so what's the point? Blah blah blah, I'm sorry, here goes.

I know it's not your fault that I'm so upset and feel so lonely, but I am and I do, and I miss you. I know you don't want me to call you--I've been pretty good at that, I think--but without something else to take the place of our phone calls, I feel a bit abandoned. I know that wasn't your intent by leaving, I know it's not your fault that everything happened this fall, I'm not blaming you for that. I know you never WANTed to be an emotional support for me; I never considered that I was forcing it on you, either. I don't care what we talk about, teasing each other and discussing fantasy and whatever else is fine, I just. . . Oh, I don't know. What does it matter anyway? Isn't this prolonging the inevitable? You left, you're getting what you wanted--for the most part, I'm leaving you alone.

Why am I doing this? I guess a part of me thinks perhaps you'd want to have some idea of what I'm thinking and why I'm like this--whatever it is.

Somehow these things tend to take you by surprise, though I have no idea how. Living in different states doesn't mean a thing to me, what, friendships don't cross state boundaries? So your only friends are people who currently live in Utah? If I lived in Saint George it'd make a difference? You and I both know the answer to that--the whole different state thing is full of crap.

I'm sorry, it was probably a mistake to call you today (thanks for the input, though), and I probably shouldn't be sending this to you, but I am, because I'm just SO TIRED of it all, I could just scream. Well, inside my head or all to myself, anyway--hermitdom always seems to come off the winner somehow.

So I'll go hide now.

No surprises there. His response:

Fri, Oct 30, 2009, Re: Blah

I'm really sorry that you're feeling abandonded, and I admit that it is more than a little my fault. I realize that you were using me as an emotional support (something I was usually fine with, provided you didn't ask too much of me), and considering what happened after I left, my leaving was probably especially inconvenient.

Of course, you are right about friendship not being restricted to state boundaries and so forth (although in this case, my comment was more based on the distance than the semi-arbitrary dividing of territory; if you were in St George or I in Wausau, I would have commented more specifically on the distance). I seemed so surprised because I had thought that I'd established prior to my leaving (admittedly a few months prior) that things wouldn't be the same after I left, in particular that I didn't want you to call me.

It's nothing against you; I just really wanted a clean break from being in Wisconsin. I don't think you ever knew how unhappy I was there (and I can't blame you for not knowing considering I don't think I fully realized it most of the time). My need to get out of Wisconsin was at least as much of my reason for leaving Epic as was my need to get out of Epic. Your frequent phone calls were a major part of my life in Wisconsin, so having you call me makes me feel like I'm still in Wisconsin.

After your father passed away, I did think that I should have called to support you somehow. I didn't for two reasons: First, I really didn't feel I had anything I could say to you to make you feel better. Second, as you said, I felt you needed to get used to the fact that I wasn't going to be around anymore. I can't be your emotional support forever, so I didn't want you to rely on me too much during this particular crisis.

I think I've said enough about this. Again, I'm sorry for the feeling of abandonment, but I really don't know how we could have avoided it at some point.

So, there we go. Apparently, that's the end. He's still my friend on Facebook; I don't know how long that will last. Sometimes I wonder if this is more like my relationship with Heath--except that Heath was Jeremy's friend, that's the only connection I have with him, I thought Grant and I were actually friends. I don't like comparing myself to Heath. *sigh!* I don't know, I guess I'm just as disillusioned as everyone else. This wasn't supposed to be the point of this entry, but this is where it ended up--I'm too tired to fix it or lead it anywhere else; I'll write more later.

Funeral Arrangements

Dad's funeral will be Saturday, October 17, 2009, at the Beloit LDS Chapel at 2535 Austin Pl, Beloit, WI 53511. The visitation will be at 8:30am, the funeral will be at 10am. A luncheon will be served afterwards.

There's a web page at the funeral home for him at http://www.daleymurphywisch.com/

We wanted to create a scrapbook full of stories about Dad to share with our families--bring pictures if you'd like--we'll have paper available for you.

We're so grateful to have friends like you in our lives. We hope to see you soon, and thank you for all the love and support you've shown us. We love you!

The Fairbank Family

Editor's Note: I realize this isn't terribly useful to anyone anymore, but it belonged here as much as the other updates--really, all of this is more for me than anyone else.

Final Update on Dad

First thing this morning Tim called, saying the doctors wanted Mom to come in because they wanted to do surgery. She and Willa left ASAP, Laura was on her way to work, and I followed shortly after. Dad's abdominal pressure was higher than expected, so they wanted to try to relieve that by putting tubes in his cavity to drain fluid, etc. We had a chance to go in and talk to him, he received a blessing from Bros. Steve Tinkler and George Varcek (about 10am).

It wasn't very long after they started when the surgeon, another doctor or two came in, shooed everyone out of the waiting room but us, and told us most of Dad's intestines were dead (I can't remember the technical term they used). The enzymes from the pancreas as well as blood clots killed bits & pieces of them almost everywhere. If they were to "resect" (pretty much remove) the dead tissure, Dad would need to be fed from a tube, his liver would probably shut down completely from the shock, he'd have to spend the rest of his life in the hospital, and it wouldn't be for very long, anyway. And, of course, he would need to stay sedated, therefore, non-responsive for the most part. Mom talked to the surgeon alone to ask what he would do if it were his parents--he said he'd been through this with them, and he would just let them go, because nothing would change, Dad wouldn't get better. We made the decision to let him go.

We started calling people right away. Aide, Laura, Nancy, Betty. . . They and so many others needed to know. Carl and Tim went home (Tim wanted to punch something but then said he'd go for a run--I don't know if he ever got that in or not), and I stayed for as long as I could stand it--I wanted to go in and talk to Dad, but the nurses said they were "cleaning him up." When I said I didn't care, they said there was still "a lot of stuff in there." I couldn't take just sitting there, so I went home, not allowing anyone to come with me--the only people I could have stood for were not there or were not leaving, and there was no way I'd let someone else drive me somewhere--I couldn't be carless!! I just needed to leave! I wanted to go on a walk, but instead got into my car and cried, then called people, texted people, drove, talked, cried. Probably not the best decision I've ever made (to go by myself in that condition), but, in the end, I figured what I wanted/needed to do--I was going to get Tim's family for him. I knew having Andrea there would be the perfect distraction for me.

Editor's Note: Probably the worst part of this (other than, of course, that we were going to "lose" Dad) was that we could not get a hold of Laura. She wasn't answering her cell or work phone--the last time we had talked to her was before the operation, and she got upset because it was Tim to talked to her, and, of course, he was the only one who didn't get the assurance that everything would be OK (I doubt he even prayed about it at all). As far as I knew, that had gone horribly--maybe she was avoiding us? I didn't know. I eventually called Brittany, her roommate, who said she'd track Laura down for us. Thank goodness I had her number--I don't think anyone else did--though, of course, I only had it to check out presents and other surprises for Laura. . .

Patti, bless her heart, sounded as though she had been waiting for my call and was ready immediately to help. I drove to Madison, she drove me to La Crosse, we picked up Danielle, Colton, and Andrea, then back to Madison, then straight to the hospital.

Adrienne was already there. Avery was so cute, saying "Gampa has big owie" and "Gampa very sick" very earnestly. It was very good to see them. I got a chance to talk to Dad alone, then took Andrea in to see him. She understood that he was sick, and I pretty much told her that he was going to go away and we wouldn't see him for a very long time (I think Tim had explained things basically the same way--she knows what "kill" and "die" mean, but he didn't want to scare her by putting it that way). She patted his arm, kissed his hand, and said good bye.

Soon we were surrounded by all the family that was there. Mom wanted to say a family prayer, and I suggested we sing a song first. We sang "God Be with You Till We Meet Again"--Andrea had to be taken out bawling in the middle--I think our somberness and intermittent crying scared her a bit, plus she was exhausted. It was wonderful and fitting--Dad's voice was all we needed to make it perfect. Aunt Willa said a beautiful prayer (Andrea came in again sometime here, Avery interjected "Gampa very sick" a few times), then we all hugged and left Mom alone with Dad. She had already told us she wanted to be alone with him as he died.

We hung out in the waiting room for a bit until all us kids & grandkids left--aunts, uncles, and cousin having already fled--then regrouped at home again. Mom joined us not long afterwards--she says Dad died at about 10:30pm. She is spending the night at Bunny Timmons's tonight. It sounds like the funeral will be Friday, to give Phil enough time to drive out.

The problem (if there was one), was that we were all assured that everything would be OK--I was blessed to go through my trials with a cheerful countenance (or a cheerful SOMEthing). We all interpreted that to mean Dad was going to get better. We couldn't imagine any other outcome--Adrienne was pregnant, surely he would be there to greet his new grandchild! Etc. We were (rather obviously) wrong. I am OK with this. I don't know how or when that may change, all I can see is the present and the end--I will survive, however much I may dislike it in the near future. We'll all be fine, eventually. We forget that Heavenly Father wants us all to be super heroes--that's why He sent us here in the first place. And someday we will be.

That's all I've got for now.

Dad 4

I'll start with Laura's reply to the family message on Facebook, since most of you can't see it: Dad is a little better today. He is still heavily sedated (with the Michael Jackson drug), but they were able to decrease his blood pressure medicine (blood pressure has been too low). His liver is improving and his muscle tissue around the pancreas seems to be healing as well! His stomach seems to be less bloated (still huge), and he is rather swollen everywhere. His temperature this AM was 98.6, which is perfect (it's been running high), and he continues to make some urine. They're pumping as much into him as out of him, so I'm not sure when the swelling will go down. They had to increase the level of his respirator to 10, which isn't a great sign, but Mom says this C-PAP machine is usually at 14, so I guess he's better than normal!

Willa and Nancy, two of Dad's sisters, are here with some of their families. It's a blessing to have them here!

Thank you for your prayers. They are much appreciated.

Laura.."

I've been pretty remiss in mentioning the people who've visited and brought us things--I'm going to try to catch up a bit now. Sister MacAffee brought us some stellar cookies. . . I think that was Saturday. . . And, just before I went down for my "nap", Gary Brabazon came over and asked if we needed anything before they left town (they're going to Utah)--I mentioned we had family coming, and he said he'd bring ham. I thought he meant a ham, but he and Debbie stopped by not too long afterwards with lunchmeat, sandwich rolls, cut cheese, potato & macaroni salads, potato chips, cookies, and pop!! It was perfect timing, too--they were closely followed by the whole family (except Mom) returning from a hospital visit for lunch!! Yesterday Cliff Stevens, Dawn Schneider and Marie Blackwelder visited at the hospital, but I'm sure the best part of the day came from the LeFevres--Rachel made a list of questions for Dad--mostly things like "Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?", etc., but the last comment on the pages she brought was something like: "Oh, and Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize." We all thought it was hilarious--I can just see Dad reaction to that!! lol! Uncle Steve and Jenny made dinner--beef stew with Uncle Steve's famous salad, and Jenny's "world-famous" turtle brownies--it was great!

Today the Conklings brought us chili--it was much appreciated--and stopped by the hospital, along with Cliff & Peggy Carlson, Tony Salinas Sr & Jr, Bunny Timmons & her grandson Ben, Mike Moncur (Dad's home teacher). The Primary (Dad's class especially, I'm sure) missed him a lot today & made him a card. Aunt Susie & Uncle Dan arrived today--it's so good to see them!!

Dad's abdominal pressure is 31, it was 21 this morning--they pumped him full of fluid to increase his blood pressure, which is still low. His heart rate is still a bit high--110 or so, but his liver is working better and his kidneys are still working. So, he's stable, things are getting better. Laura says he's still yellow, but his face has color. Tim has the night shift tonight.

Dad 3

October 10 at 11:28pm
I'll start with Steve Tinkler's update from earlier today that he posted on Facebook: "I was in hospital Sat, 10:00 - 12:00 and grateful Dave's vital signs are improviing. His heart is stable, and kidneys have begun producing a little bit of urine this morning. His ICU nurses are THE BEST. It's been over 48 hours and his main doctor said they would know much better if he responded to his current treatment by then. Things are slowly improving today. His nurse Dawn said it would be several weeks before Dave recovers completely. Many Church members have called our home phone for updates. So everyone continue to pray for Dave."

We do love his ICU nurses--they are ghetto-fantabulous!! :) Anyway, sometime around 11:15 am Dad was temporarily off the dialysis machine so they could switch him over to a bigger, better, new & improved hospital bed, and he made 100 ml of urine all on his own!! Yay!! You know what that means? His kidneys are functioning! Granted, it's at a very limited level, but they ARE WORKING! We didn't expect that until after everything else got better!! Also, Dad had his eyes open for 3 full consecutive seconds today while the day nurse was in--even raised his hand for her!! So we have plenty to be thankful for today. I talked to Laura on and off during the day, and just got back from a quick look-see of Dad at the hospital. His heartrate is still high, blood pressure is still low--apparently, during the day they are able to reduce the blood pressure medicine he's on, but at night it always has to go back up--and his blood oxygen level is still hovering in the low nineties--he's still on 100% oxygen. Aunt Willa & Carl just got in--Tim took them to the hospital to see Dad right away. Laura is staying overnight there tonight. . . There's really nothing more to say, except that it's great that, instead of our just knowing he will be OK and watching him get worse, he's getting better!! It's helped us be cheerful much more easily! More later!!

Dad 2

I didn't keep track of times as well for the last day or so. . . Laura and I got to the hospital sometime around noon, I'd guess. Mom got a call from Bunny Timmons that she was on her way, so she (Mom) was waiting until she got there before she and Laura went back home to prep the house for guests. It turns out a good thing she did, because, around 1:30 or so Dad's heart rate jumped up, to over 200 (I don't remember what it was before it jumped), and Dad's room became very busy. They even brought in the crash cart & put those things on his chest for it just in case!! Of course, I didn't really know what was going on, a nurse talked to Mom, though, and (eventually) she told us--it seemed like it was hectic and crazy in there for an hour, but I doubt my perception of time was correct. During this, Bunny arrived. Mom went out to the waiting room and talked to her, and she (bless her heart!) asked for Mom's keys so she could go start on the house. We were very grateful, of course, not wanting to leave Dad until he was stablized. Once things had calmed down for a bit, Laura and Mom left, as well--Mom really needed a break!

Things stayed pretty stable throughout the day--there was just the one scare, although Dad's temperature was hovering between 99 and 101 degrees F and his heart rate was still high--in the 170's right after the scare, couple hours later (thanks to some medicine) it was in the 150's. . . By nightime it was in the 110's, around 11 or so it was just over 100. When I left today (I stayed the night), it was in the 90's. In the early evening, some sisters from the Beloit ward (Finch, Evans, and Jaeger?) stopped by with snackage for us at the hospital! There was much joy and rejoicing--no, I did NOT eat it all! They even brought bottled water for us! It was so awesome of them to think of it! They told me to give their (and their children's) love to Dad, and then stopped by at home to check in with Mom; I'm sure that was good for her. Then Patsy Titus stopped by. It was good to see her, too. Tim got to the hospital around 8, Steve Tinkler, the Blackwelders and Moncurs followed soon after. I had arranged to have some friends of mine from the Uni ward (Kristina and Patti) to bring me some clothes, phone charger, and other necessities Meghan (my magnificent roommate) put together for me, they arrived at 8:45 or so with fun stories of the GPS leading them to the Janesville police dept instead of the hospital and misunderstandings from our texted conversations. . . lol! They gave me a much needed break (took me to IHOP!!) for a bit.

Editor's note on the misunderstandings: I tried to finagle a meet between Kristina and Tim so she wouldn't need to come all the way down to Beloit, but she didn't understand--she thought I was just trying to get her to meet Tim, like I was setting her up. . . She talked to Devin about it, asking about how weird it was, commented "Doesn't he have a daughter? And a live-in girlfriend?" There was confusion--I thought it was hilarious. When I told Meghan, she couldn't understand how Kristina didn't get it--even after I sent a text explaining ("I don't want you to have to drive all the way down here if you don't have to--Tim will be driving through Madison from La Crosse on his way here, so it'd be easier on you this way" etc.) it took her a bit to get it. Really funny!! lol!

When I got back to the hospital, the nurse said they had had to increase the medicine they were using to keep his blood pressure up, and talked about his breathing. The problem is he's somehow not taking in enough oxygen. When he first came into the ICU, he was at 40% oxygen or something (normal air is 21%, I think), and they had had to increase it until it was up to 100%, and his blood oxygen level was still right around 90% (90% is the least you need to function properly), and Dad wasn't responding much anymore--wasn't opening his eyes for her or wiggling his toes. Tim and I convinced Mom to stay home & rest up, Tim went home (I thought she'd feel better if she got to see him--I'm sure it's a comfort for her to have us all here) around 11? During the night there was fiddling with his blood oxygen sensor, the dialysis machine, etc. Overall, uneventful, except at some point Dad shook his head in response to something the nurse said--I must have been asleep or otherwise zoned out when that happened; I totally missed it. Mom came in this morning around 7am, had been up since 5 or so. When I got home, I saw what she had been doing--putting notes on all the cupboards & drawers so everyone would know where everything is--dishes, silverware, different foods--lol at Mom! I stuck around until the Doctor came in and went through the latest lab results, then came home--Aunt Nancy, Uncle Steve, and Jenny were just getting into the house when I pulled up! Aunt Willa and Carl are on their way & will get here tonight, and Aunt Susie & Uncle Dan may stop by after a wedding today in Minneapolis. I talked to Adrienne, had difficulties with plumbing, sent everyone to the hospital, and here I am.

It's SO bedtime!

One last note: we still are at peace with this--we know he will make it through this. He's a fighter, there's no way this is his end. I'll post again later!!

Dad 1

So I'm going to give up on the whole nickname thing in general; I'll keep a couple to make some things easier and keep some things (hopefully) harder to figure out--rather not announce some things to the entire world, you know? Anyway, I'm going to post the updates (with minimal editing to have it seem like a blog instead of a note to people) on Dad here--kinda like a journal of what's been going on--it seems very appropriate to continue this here.

Dad's at Mercy Hospital in Janesville, WI. He has pancreatitis. His blood pressure is high, so is his pulse (135? I think?). And his blood sugar was rising. For normal people, anything over 200 is bad. While I was there, it was tested as 435 or so. After I left, they tested again (I think they do it every 2 hours?) and it was 454. But I just talked to Laura again, his recent test was at 392. He's still in pain--he's on a morphine drip, though, so it's only a 4 (scale 1-10).

Since I got home, I read up on pancreatitis--the high pulse is a normal thing. His pancreas isn't producing the digestive juices it's supposed to, so he's blocked up. No bowel movements yet, but he's still urinating, so his kidneys are probably OK. I also looked up diabetes--it can "lead to. . . an inability to control heart rate and blood pressure during postural changes," and everytime they were taking his blood pressure it was right after he had sat up or laid back down. So I'm feeling better than I was about this whole thing--it's not always chronic, so, we're keeping our fingers crossed!!

I'll be going back to the hospital tomorrow morning; he's already received a blessing and his name has been put on the Chicago Temple's prayer roll for us. Dad's pretty weak, isn't talking much, doesn't want to be read to or anything because it distracts him so he can't sleep.