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Robert Cowing (1965)
JIM NORTHUP - WHS 1969
Yolo Hospice & CWC: Parting gifts from a genius - By Craig Dresang — Craig is the CEO of Yolo Hospice and Citizens Who Care. DAVIS ENTERPRISE – August 18, 2018
In his living room, decorated with rows of carefully framed butterflies and moths, Davis resident Jim Northup reflects on living with ALS and getting the most out of life.
There are only two people in the world with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) who have lived longer than Davis resident Jim Northup.
Stephen Hawking, the world famous physicist, cosmologist, and author from the United Kingdom, was one of them. He died this past March after living with the disease for 55 years. The other long-term survivor, Steve Wells, lives in Canada.
Like Hawking, Wells is confined to a wheelchair. Northup, on the other hand, is not wheelchair bound, even though he has had the disease for nearly 40 years.
A Yolo Hospice patient since 2017, Northup greets me on his own two feet in the front hallway of his home. After our first five minutes of chatting it is clear that since his diagnosis at the age of 30, he has lived life to the fullest, taking ALS along for the ride.
The disease can come at once, with curses and gifts. Northup explains, “ALS gave me the opportunity to raise my children as a house husband. I got to watch them grow up every day.” He says, “Another gift has been the realization that no matter your circumstance, it is a big beautiful world. Anywhere you look on this planet you will see something amazing.”
His survival crushes the normal life expectancy for people in his position: According to the ALS Association, half of the people diagnosed with ALS die within three years. Northup’s advice to others who receive an ALS diagnosis: “Don’t be rash in your decisions. You could have a lot more time to live than you think.”
In front of the door of Northup’s house is a sort of prolific kitchen garden of zucchinis and tomatoes. When I walk into his modest Davis home and comment on the garden, his wife, Glenda, pulls a zucchini the size and shape of a small Dachshund out of the refrigerator and hands it to me. “Here, take one,” she says.
We sit together in a living room that is decorated with rows of carefully framed butterflies and moths. Jim is an entomologist, former research associate, and one-time employee of the Columbian Ministry of Health. This immediately explains the display of colorful, and not-so-colorful, winged creatures on the walls.
Boasting an IQ of 165, Northup is considered a genius. Less than 0.03 percent of the population share an equivalent or better IQ. He describes himself as a “good scientist who collaborates well with other people.” Mosquitoes are his fascination.
In years past, Northup was so devoted to the advance of scientific research that he willingly and routinely stuck his arm into cages full of hungry mosquitos and let them feed. “I had to do this in order to have a laboratory colony that could lead to good research,” he explains. Although he has made his own contributions to the field of science and to the study of diseases like malaria and West Nile, he considers his greatest contribution to be his children.
Like the Scottish philosopher David Hume, he believes that the human race is in a state of constant evolution and that, overall, mankind improves with each generation. “I’m hopeful that the contributions I’ve made with my children will in some way be a contribution to the greater good of the world we live in,” he explains.
Northup also believes he has gleaned gifts from his disease. “Having ALS has made me focus on the things I value and the things that are truly important,” he says. “When I was young, I put a lot of energy into the idea of being published and becoming a well-known scientist. After my diagnosis, everything changed. The things I thought were important became secondary and I developed clarity about what matters most.”
For Northup, the things that matter most include his children, his wife, the continuation of learning, creative expression, and sprinkling his own brand of love and light into the world that surrounds him.
Over the years, Northup has enjoyed making music as much as studying insects. When he was still a young father and uncertain about the length of his life, he recorded a song for his children. The lyrics capture Northup’s drive to create and contribute something bigger than himself.
For Northup, the decision to come onto hospice was difficult at first. But now, he says, “I was stupid to wait so long. I connected the word ‘hospice’ with the certainty of dying. Today, I would tell others who may need hospice to get over the stigma and sign up for care sooner.”
From a practical perspective, hospice has proven beneficial in managing Northup’s pain and symptoms. But it has also aided him in affirming his values, and in some way, expanding his world and his relationships. “I’ve received the best, most caring assistance from people who know what they are doing. They are experts,” he says.
When asked what he thinks about the idea of dying, Northup says, “I used to be worried, but now I am actually excited. I know, with a greater sense of certainty, that what comes next is something so incredible that it can’t be comprehended or contained in this world.” He also says that his parting gifts are his children and grandchildren. “I hope that I, in some small way, helped them to see joy in life and to turn the world around them into a song, a poem, a piece of art, or something beautiful.”
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