Neil X. Cronin, 46, explorer of possibilities for disabled

As dusk fell on an August night in 1976, Neil X. Cronin and his friends went to the Bass River in West Dennis to watch a flood tide churn the water after a storm.

``They were 16 and, kids being kids, they went down to the dock and jumped in," said his sister, Mary Claire Ballou of Shrewsbury. ``I don't know if he hit bottom or what."

A spinal injury left Mr. Cronin a quadriplegic. Yet, the elan with which he handled a suddenly altered life was immediately apparent. Because of the storm's high winds, he could not travel by helicopter and instead was driven to the hospital.

``Do you know that on the way up to Boston he was telling jokes to the ambulance driver," his sister said.

Mr. Cronin, who helped others learn about quadriplegia and inspired all he met with his relentless spirit, died Sunday in Massachusetts General Hospital of complications from the injury he suffered three decades ago. He was 46 and had lived in Jamaica Plain.

``He was an exceedingly bright individual whose ability to maintain control as his disease became more complicated was one of the secrets to his longevity," said Dr. James Dineen, Mr. Cronin's physician for the past 30 years. ``He also took great pride in educating a whole generation of doctors and nurses about the intricacies of how you manage being a quadriplegic."

``He really wasn't like anybody else you've met in your life," said Stephenie Pusti, a nurse on the Phillips House 20 floor of Mass. General, which was a second home for Mr. Cronin and where the staff was a second family. ``Despite his sickness and disability, he could take the worst thing and make light of it. He made everybody around him value the smaller things in life."

For him, she added, ``a good day was being able to read a book in the sunshine. Every day we could make that happen for Neil was a good day for us, too."

Mr. Cronin grew up in Dorchester, the youngest of four children. His parents, Dorothy and John, had a summer place in West Dennis, where his mother now lives. A student at Boston College High School when he was injured, Mr. Cronin began a new life of breaking ground for those whose limbs can no longer open doors or stride through life.

He graduated from BC High and studied computers at Bentley College. Because medical complications meant unplanned trips back to Mass. General, it took several extra years to graduate. During that period, he became one of the first with his extent of physical limitations to live in a dorm at Bentley, his sister said, and among the first to drive a specially equipped van.

``He drove everywhere," his sister said. ``He took half of Dorchester to Bentley College for eight years. His friends would pile in."

Dineen said that with an injury such as Mr. Cronin's the motor system fails first, followed gradually by parts of the nervous system. When Mr. Cronin's health flagged, he relied on his full-time caregiver, Patrick Thompson, and his family.

``My mother was Neil's greatest champion," his sister said.

His two brothers, John of Lynnfield and Thomas, a physician in Simsbury, Conn., worked with Mr. Cronin's parents to assist their brother, who was particularly distressed when his father died two years ago.

Thompson, who is from Jamaica, lived with Mr. Cronin in his Jamaica Plain apartment.

``That's my brother. They call me the black Irish," Thompson said with a laugh, referencing Mr. Cronin's Irish Catholic heritage.

Because Mr. Cronin needed assistance for nearly everything, he and Thompson were closer than most friends ever get. On good nights they blared reggae music -- ``he loved Bob Marley," Thompson said -- and went to Fenway Park together to see Bruce Springsteen.

``I'm more open now because he was such a warm person," Thompson said. ``He would do anything for me and I would do anything for him."

By example, Mr. Cronin also taught his six nieces and nephews about how to live their lives, his sister said. ``They saw all these virtues in Neil."

Perhaps because he knew his life would be short, Mr. Cronin brought an unusual intensity and vitality to all his encounters.

``I had a conversation with Dr. Dineen Monday night, and he said, `You girls up there must feel like you lost a brother,' and it's like that," Pusti said. ``He was more than a patient; he was a very close friend. There was nothing about him I didn't know."

A funeral Mass will be said at 11 a.m. today in St. Gregory Church in Dorchester. Burial will be in Massachusetts National Cemetery in Bourne.