BOB NEIL
People With MS and the Courage to Give
Chapter 23: Late Bloomer
BECAUSE I HAD SO MUCH SUPPORT here at the hospital, I discovered my love for painting. Since making that discovery, I’m flying high. I’ve found a kind of healing that cannot be found on any prescription pad but can only come from inside us in a declaration of independence to pursue our creativity. After thirteen years at the hospital, the artist BobbyN. was born.
I grew up in a large Catholic family during the Depression. We lived in Spokane, Washington, where I attended Catholic school and church, then moved to San Francisco when I was eleven. We were a close family, and community was always very important. I served in the army after graduating from high school and then attended San Francisco City College’s hotel and restaurant program. For several years I worked in the hotel and restaurant industry.
In 1962, I moved to Placerville, California, in the Sierra foothills, to take a job with the California State Automobile Association. That’s where I met and married my wife. In 1966 we moved back to San Francisco, where I began a new career in the sporting goods industry, and in 1969 we moved to Petaluma, a farming town about forty-five minutes north of San Francisco. I continued to commute to San Francisco and loved my life. I enjoyed my job, my family, hunting, climbing mountains, fly-fishing, and I spent lots of time outdoors.
But the year 1975 turned my world upside down. I was having trouble walking and standing, my nine-year marriage ended, our fourth child was born without me being present, I lost my job, and I was diagnosed with MS.
Walking out of that doctor’s office I felt as if a label had been slapped on my back. It took me two years to peel it off. When I needed family most, I didn’t have it, and a deep depression set in. Finally I came to the conclusion that I had three choices: I could jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, pick up drinking, or get my act together. Fortunately I chose the latter.
I moved back to San Francisco, got my own apartment, and went back to college at San Francisco State University. I studied psychology to better understand myself and eventually earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in adult education and counseling.
Knowing I had to be productive, I got involved in the MS Society’s Northern California Chapter and did anything I could to help. I stuffed envelopes, became a peer counselor, started a support group, eventually joined the Board of Directors, and spent time fundraising. At the same time I taught ESL (English as a Second Language) to adults in my home. My other volunteer efforts were at Laguna Honda Hospital—a long-term care facility for chronically ill patients. I organized catered lunches for residents with MS.
Over time it became harder and harder to live alone. Driving was becoming difficult as I continued to lose use of my entire right side. I spoke with my doctor, and in 1990 we decided it best for me to move into Laguna Honda Hospital. How ironic. I had visited that place so often but never imagined moving into it myself.
Moving into the hospital was quite a shock, but again, I realized I had choices to make. I could sink into depression in my twelve-by-fifteen-foot room, give up, and let others take care of me and watch me wither away, or I could think of
the move as a blessing. I would be relieved of mundane chores such as laundry, meals, and cleaning, and use my time productively. I decided I was still worth something and should enjoy my new freedom.
From my volunteer work at Laguna Honda, I already had friends and knew what services were available. An art instructor at Laguna Honda suggested I try painting. I had no use of my right side, so that would mean going back to “first grade” to learn to write and/or paint with my left hand. This beautiful instructor told me it was entirely possible.
Before long, I discovered a passion and talent for painting. I found that although I was no longer able to hunt and fish, I could now express my love for nature through my paintings of birds, animals, landscapes, and portraits. Now my paintings fill the walls in my room and the corridors at Laguna Honda; my work has been included in an exhibit of art by seniors at the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum; and I’ve had two other exhibits as well. One of my paintings was chosen to appear in the 2002 National Multiple Sclerosis Society calendar, and just recently, another painting—Carmine Bee-Eaters, an acrylic on canvas— was selected for inclusion in the 2003 National Multiple Sclerosis Society calendar.
When I was told that my painting had been selected, they asked me what painting has done for me and what it could do for others. I talked about the elevating clarity of the creative mind and its healing power—a kind of healing that cannot be found on any prescription pad but can only come from inside us in a declaration of independence to pursue our creativity. My hope is that others with MS will see the calendar, all of the artists’ work, and become inspired to explore their own creativity in whatever form it may come.
I made myself a promise to remain productive. Here at Laguna Honda, I value our community, just as I did growing up. I chair the Resident Council at Laguna Honda, advocating for residents and reviewing needs and concerns for all 1,100
patients. Although we occasionally have our problems, you would have to travel pretty far to find a facility of this caliber.
My “family” here—residents, volunteers, staff—have helped me battle the degeneration I am experiencing with MS. I encourage residents to get involved in the many activities provided so they too can see the benefits of productivity, creativity, and community involvement.
Society today does not promote the same support systems, the same sense of community I had as a child, but I believe that people simply don’t have a chance to develop their lives and their abilities without such community and support. I could have given up when I couldn’t live alone, work, or have immediate family take care of me. Instead, I chose long-term care and became blessed with a new family, a new support system.
Because of that support, at sixty-eight I discovered my love for painting. Since making that discovery, I’m flying high. I wish for anyone suffering who believes he or she is alone to take advantage of support systems and rediscover a joyful, fulfilling life.
To view and/or order the 2003 National MS Society calendar: www.nationalmssociety.org
