Joseph Brion Rusinko

Dr. Joseph B. Rusinko died peacefully at home on April 9, 2015 after a courageous and inspiring journey. Joe is survived by his loving wife, Teresa Gauthier and their son, Daniel Rusinko. He is preceded in death by his father, George Rusinko and mother, Isabel Rusinko (nee Noyes). His brother Robert Rusinko, his wife Rosalie, their family and Joes Canadian family are honored to have had Joe as both a brother and a son. Joe was born on August 16, 1953 in Tennessee. He attended Tulane University for Biomedical Engineering followed by Medical School. Joe is a veteran of the United States Army. He first enlisted as a soldier and then served as an officer in the Medical Corps. He was honored to serve his country here and overseas. After Joe left the service, his career as an Emergency Physician took him around the country where he worked in various states until he accepted a position with Tacoma Emergency Care Physicians where he worked at both Allenmore and Tacoma General Hospital from 1995 to 2012. Joe met Teresa in New Orleans where they began a lifelong love affair. They married on April 12, 1986 and spent an incredible 29 years together. The love of their lives, Daniel, was born on November 20, 1998. These three musketeers explored Europe, the United States, and Canada together. Joe and Daniel were very close and had amazing adventures while they cross country skied, shot biathlon rifles, climbed mountains, launched rockets, camped, hiked, built a playhouse, cooked, watched movies and enjoyed music together. Treasured memories will forever be cherished from their times spent together at Raft Island and at their piece of heaven in Twisp, WA. Joe, who has been described by his best friend as a true Renaissance Man, did it all and was admired by everyone he met. He had many hobbies including woodworking, wine making, rocketry, sailing and cycling. He loved his involvement in Tacoma Mountain Rescue. The impact he left at work, in the Emergency Department, was no less significant. Patients, nurses, doctors and other medical practitioners were privileged to have been seen by, mentored by and work alongside Doc Joe. His Hawaiian shirts will not be forgotten. A funeral mass is scheduled for 9:00 am at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic Church in Tacoma followed by a reception. Interment will follow at 1:30 pm at Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent, Washington. All are welcome to attend and celebrate Joes life. Donations to the American Brain Tumor Association in lieu of flowers would be appreciated. Joe Eulogy Thoughts It is my privilege today to share a few thoughts on the life of Joseph Brion Rusinko, which I compiled with the help of his wife, my sister, Teresa, my wife Jane, and his good friend, Kevin. I'd like to start with a poem that describes how I believe Joe would want us to simply be today: I want fireworks at my funeral To brighten up your eyes I want clowns at my funeral To return all your smiles I want dancing at my funeral To help you move along I want a party at my funeral Filled with your happy throng So, party, party, party And cheer my spirit with song And my last wish is, that you just remember, LIFE GOES ON I first met Joe when he was dating Teresa back in 1982. They met in New Orleans where Teresa was working as a nurse and where Joe was completing his undergraduate degree in Biomedical Engineering at Tulane University. They dated for a few years while Joe completed his medical training at Tulane and Teresa completed her Masters in Nursing at Chapel Hill in North Carolina. I remember being struck by Joes mantra of living life to its fullest at full throttle 24/7. His enthusiasm was contagious. There was nothing he couldnt do if he just put his mind to it. Joe pursued the love of his life, my sister, Teresa, with that same zest, wooing her with his smile, his charm, his sense of humor and most importantly, his love. Last Sunday would have been their 29th wedding anniversary. Joes love and devotion for Teresa was unfailing. He was a romantic at heart. This past Valentines Day, while in a hospital bed, Joe's only wish was for red roses for Teresa, the symbol of his undying love. Joe, with Teresa, fathered Daniel, a very special young man. Joe loved Daniel,that I know. He spent countless hours together with D cross country skiing, shooting biathlon rifles, climbing mountains, helping D with schoolwork, scouting projects, robotics projects and most excitingly, building and flying rockets together. Two greater science and technology geeks there never were! It was Joes greatest wish to see D to manhood. As Daniels godfather, I commit to being there for D, anyway I can. Joe was a very smart man with an enormous capacity to serve and to care - for his family, for his country and for his fellow man. After completing his MD degree in 1983 and completing all the thesis work and most of the course work for his PhD in Biomedical Engineering at Tulane, he married Teresa in 1986 and they went for their first tour of duty in the Army, in Europe, Germany, to be exact. They returned here to Tacoma to complete his residency in Emergency Medicine, and then went back to Europe for a second tour in the Army in1990. Joe retired as a Major from the Army in 1994 and became an Emergency physician at both Allenmore and Tacoma General Hospitals. As an Emergency physician, Doc Joe saved and touched many lives. He was renowned for his sense of smell he could apparently predict a persons diabetic state based simply on the patients smell. Joe had many heart warming stories from his ER days rivaling those of the famous TV show of the same name. And Joe's famous, or should I say infamous?, organoleptic skills were put to good use making wine. He enjoyed a robust cabernet, and introduced Jane and I to California wines from Napa Valley. Im willing to bet Joe's in heaven right now, smiling down on us, laughing at this eulogy, with a big glass of red wine in his hand. Joe was the ultimate "Renaissance man", which comes from a Greek phrase meaning "having learned much". It is used to describe a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas, which Joe's certainly did: Engineering, Medicine, various sports, robotics, wine making, woodworking, to name just a few. Joe loved to work with his hands. He was an expert wood worker, a true craftsman, who took delight in hand crafting beautiful furniture, from choice lumber, he painstakingly selected. He refinished many of the antiques he and Teresa purchased in Europe restoring each piece to its original glory. There was no project Joe wouldnt consider taking on, nothing too difficult, no job too big. Joe built a retaining wall and an amazing waterside deck at their Raft Island house, and was well into the process of renovating the house itself. Joe was planning to finish their home on the Twisp River, too, and had multiple other projects partway finished, but God obviously had other plans for Joe. Joe asked that we especially remember him as he was before he got sick. I want to honor that wish with one caveat. I think its also important to acknowledge Joes zest for life and strength of character as he battled his glioblastoma. Not once did he complain or pity himself, even when he was wearing that silly head gear! He set an example for all of us in both living life and facing death. Id like to close our celebration of Joes life with one final poem: I Am Not Gone I am not gone While you cry with me I am not gone While you smile with me I am not gone While you remember with me I will come When you call my name I will come When I feel your pain I will come On your final day It could never be That we Would never be We shall always Be together, Forever I am not gone Gerard Gauthier April 16, 2015 One Moment of Compassion . . . A Lifetime of Friendship It was my first semester as a graduate student, and all of my morning classes were taken with the freshman medical school class. On the first day of class, it became apparent that these med students were not comfortable with graduate students in their midst. They were all about meeting each other, and we few were clearly not one of them. Apparently they mostly bonded together in their afternoon class, gross anatomy, where they worked together in small fixed groups. We in turn spent our afternoons in graduate school classes in our fields. Over time I simply learned to sit in the back of the large classroom alone and was free to observe the medical students, but not to bond with them. My second semester schedule would be no different morning classes in a large classroom with this same freshman medical school class, then afternoon classes with a small group of fellow graduate students. As I entered the lecture hall for my first class of second semester, I noted that my traditional back row was no longer empty. Someone I did not recognize was sitting alone in my back row, looking subtlety uncomfortable. I deduced that he had been there for a little while and had been received by the med students the same way as I had been in the fall semester. I felt his pain, and I decided to sit down next to him. We struck up a conversation, and I was soon able to put him at ease. Over the semester we became friends, discovering common interests in cooking, movies, literature, camping, an appreciation of adult beverages, and many other activities. We shared discussions about our frustrations and troubles with graduate school, and later medical school as well. He moved into my apartment building and we were neighbors for a while. We helped each other with classwork and we spent many hours together. When it was finally time for me to leave Tulane after 7 years of graduate and medical school, he was one of only three friends I wanted with me when we celebrated my last night in New Orleans. He honored me by asking me to be his best man when he married. We remained friends ever since I visited Europe twice and Ireland once with him, and we eventually each found our way into the same calling as physicians practicing emergency medicine. And through it all, what I remember is his ever-present smile that could light up a room. I remember his mischievous sense of humor, his cleverness, his wittiness, his intellect, and his many technical skills. I remember his decency, his quiet confidence that could face any adversity, and I remember his strength. I remember the joy that he found in life. Now he has gone to his eternal rest, and I will carry these memories with me for the rest of my life. Farewell, good friend, farewell. Be at peace. For as long as we live, you are not truly gone, for your spirit and our memories of you are still with us. We will meet again, when the stars fall from the sky, in a place where no shadows fall. Farewell. Jim Edwards April 11, 2015