Russ's Ravings: Beaten, Broken But Unbowed

Editor's note: The following is Patch Field Editor Russ Crespolini's, hopefully, weekly column. It is reflective of his opinion alone.

Over the years I have seen many people write about the end of the calender year lamenting it and blaming it for the issues that cropped up in their lives. You have all seen it in one form or another.

"2016 was a nightmare, but 2017 will be better."

"I hate 2017. Thanks for nothing."

I found those musing self indulgent and lacking in responsibility. It isn't a year that is the source of your woes. Nor is it God or fate or time or whatever force hurled Sam Beckett from life to life.

Our lives are lived based off of the choices we make. If you give up that responsibility, that freedom of choice and you turn it over to family or friends or a political party or chosen deity then you are setting yourself up to suffer. The year is not the cause of your situation.

And then 2019 rolled in.

I started 2019 with pneumonia. I had never had it before and I hope to never have it again. But that was the beginning of a strange stretch of time for me and my family. My sister and my niece ended up moving back in with my parents and the situation caused a lot of pressure and strain on my folks.

My daughter got a fish tank and 30 fish died. It seemed as if we were under a bad sign if you believe in that sort of thing. Which I don't. And then I was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

I thought that my lethargy, irritability, moodiness and difficulty concentrating were coming from being pre-diabetic. Or maybe from some other growing-older ailment that threw my body chemistry out of whack. In fact, I almost didn't go to the doctor or insist on the tests, except for one thing: I was sad.

I was despondent. And it was something I couldn't shake. And for anyone who knows me, that is not the norm. I don't get sad, not like this. Waking up feeling it, having to fight to fake it to get through the day.

But I also told myself it could be due to something else. Maybe it was the upheaval of changing jobs and the struggles my extended family were having or maybe it was the pressures of the new classes I was teaching at a new school.

But it nagged at me.

So I went to see an endocrinologist. And told her about how I was feeling. I told her how my lifelong struggle with weight was getting harder and that I know it would be easy to dismiss me, but I really think there is something wrong.

Reluctantly, she ordered tests.

And after a few weeks of those, she gave me my first concrete answer. There was something wrong. And the tests told her it was a growth, or tumor. This led to months of tests and specialists and more test and specialists. The details of this ordeal and my attempt to process what I am experiencing. I discuss my diagnosis, my fears of telling my daughter, the testing process, the isolations and depression associated with it and more. Check it out for yourself:

• Russ's Ravings: The Doctor Called To Tell Me I Have A Tumor
• Russ's Ravings: Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes
• Russ's Ravings: A Tale Of (At Least) Two Tumors
• Russ's Ravings: The Horrors Of Waiting Mitigated By Laughter
• Russ's Ravings: 'One Slip, And You're Toast'
• Russ's Ravings: I'm not Okay. And That's Okay
• Russ's Ravings: All I Want For Christmas Is Brain Surgery

So now here we are in the middle of the holiday season and I am going from doctor to doctor in preparation for my brain surgery at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center on Jan. 15. And in the interim, I can feel my body continue to rebel and break down on me. In fact, I didn't feel well enough to go out and spend time with my family on Christmas Eve this year. I stayed home, I organized medical records and tried to rest for a slew of pre-op tests I had scheduled for very early on Dec. 26.

And that, sitting along in my living room, was when the thought floated into my head.

"Screw 2019. What a terrible year."

I had become one of those people.

And why shouldn't I? Because I was going through all of this turmoil through no fault of my own. I didn't ask for a brain tumor. My weakening health was not caused by smoking or drinking or drug use or overeating. This was not something I caused. I was unlucky.

And I went through some pretty difficult things this year. Including the death of my cat which was like the icing on top of a terrible cake no one wanted to bake to begin with. So what does that mean? Does it mean I get to wallow in self pity? No. It doesn't. Because despite all of the terrible things that happened to me this year, many of which I am leaving out for brevity's sake...there was also so many wonderful things to be grateful for.

From the simplicity of enjoying the home that I live in and the family and friends that I have to the larger examples like vacations and spending more time with my daughter. Taking on teaching and developing new classes at a new school was a gift that gave me new challenges and horizons to reach for as did taking on a new area of coverage for work.

And speaking of work, I happen to have an incredibly supportive team behind me who has made my dealing with my infirmities nothing for me to be ashamed of. In fact, they often tell me to take more time off.

I am so incredibly lucky that I live close to and have health insurance access to get me in to see the best doctors in the world. And I have an outlet to express my feelings that resonates with readers.

And my readers. I cannot tell you how wonderful an experience this has been for me, to receive so many emails of people sharing their stories, their advice, their well- wishes and their prayers. It has been an absolutely miraculous thing to open my inbox and to find so many gems for me to take with me.

So yes, 2019 beat me and left me broken in many ways. But I am unbowed despite it all. And I know that moving forward I will bounce back and grow stronger and when I post again a year from now it will be to celebrate the renewal that I achieved in 2020.

A renewal I know will come through the love and support I already receive.

Russ Crespolini is a Field Editor for Patch Media, adjunct professor and college newspaper advisor. His columns have won awards from the National Newspaper Association and the New Jersey Press Association.

He writes them in hopes of connecting with readers and engaging with them. And because it is cheaper than therapy. He can be reached at russ.crespolini@patch.com