SUNDAY STORY -- With a stroke of the pencil

Young Chang

Mervin Goldstein says “good” and “nice” like they’re the two best

words in the English language.

Denzel Washington is nice.

Vacationing with family is good.

Friends are nice, the view from his hilltop home is nice, painting is

good.

The aphasic Newport Coast artist never says something is “bad.”

Ethan Goldstein guesses that his 58-year-old father may be happier now

than when he was a fully-mobile plastic surgeon who loved to speed in his

little black Porsche -- a luxury from his childhood dreams -- before

suffering a stroke four years ago.

Carol Goldstein says she can barely get her husband to sit still

nowadays, with all the dinners, movies, shows and basketball games that

book most their nights.

And Goldstein, though mostly paralyzed on his right side and

struggling with his speech, smiles generously and uses a medley of “good”

and “nice” to communicate that he is happy.

He’s got family and friends who love him.

He’s got one good arm -- the left one -- with which he’s learned to

draw, eat, dress and even open doors for ladies in front of him.

And he now has the time to sit in an upstairs drawing room where a

window lets the sun in while he sketches with a newly-trained hand,

oblivious to the hours circling past until, of course, Carol Goldstein

reminds him that it’s time for lunch.

In a way, Goldstein is living his dream.

“He always said to me that when we retired, he’d love to have a house

in Sedona [Ariz.] and draw all day and grow his hair, whatever hair he’s

got left, and tie it back,” Carol Goldstein laughed.

Though the hair isn’t very long today, and though home is still

Newport Coast, what was once just a hobby of sketching his patient’s

noses in the blank, white corners of his medical papers has become a

healthy obsession, his son says.

The family will hold a private art showing Saturday for seven of his

pieces at their home.

“There was a question of whether or not he was going to live,” said

Ethan Goldstein, a medical student in Michigan, of when the stroke

happened. “But he has definitely come a long way. He has that sort of

glimmer in his eye that never left, and he has his own agenda in his mind

-- when he’s going to make his next move forward.”

Immediately after his stroke, doctors had determined that Goldstein’s

brain was severely swollen. It was a wait-and-see deal, his son

remembers, but slowly Goldstein regained consciousness.

He progressed from sitting in a wheelchair to using a cane to walking

on his feet. Today, he climbs 38 flights of stairs in 15 minutes on the

Stairmaster during regular sessions with his physical therapist, Brian

Wong.

With Wong’s help, Goldstein has also learned to move his right hand 30

degrees up. It took two years, but his recovery has been constant and

still continues, the therapist said.

Just last week, Goldstein got himself up from the floor without Wong’s

help. It took about ten seconds. It had taken a minute before.

He climbs onto the Stairmaster without help and climbs off too.

“He even turns off the machine himself,” Wong smiled.

Goldstein began drawing soon after the stroke, after meeting an artist

named Brigitte Crosson at the Festival of Arts in Laguna Beach. Carol

Goldstein remembers taking her card. When her husband had recovered

enough, she called Crosson and arranged one-on-one lessons to get

Goldstein drawing with his left hand.

“I felt he needed a life outside of therapy,” Carol Goldstein said.

“His confidence, of course, and his concentration are much better now.

And [so is] his ability to use his left hand.”

Which is as steady as one would expect a former surgeon’s hand to be.

Goldstein usually draws with classical music playing in the background,

with his left hand angled up to the desk easel on which his paper is

propped.

In a set of drawers nearby, he keeps eight small sketch books from

when he drew with his right hand. The smudged images are of passersby at

bus stops and train stops, his patients, his family, random sets of legs

and even the doorway of his son’s college dormitory.

They are done just in pencil and announce that Goldstein likes playing

with lines.

His recent drawings, much bigger in size and colored, include

portraits of Barbara Bush, Denzel Washington, a model in his art class

and one -- in the works -- of his wife during her hipster days.

They are drawn by Goldstein’s left hand, but are as dexterous as the

ones done long ago by his right.

“He’s an inspiration to a lot of people,” Ethan Goldstein said. “And

sometimes I wonder if I was in the same situation, I don’t know if I

could be the same.”

Goldstein is wholly content, the son continues. Never depressed.

“He always says, ‘that was then, this is now.’ He enjoys everything

about life,” Ethan Goldstein said.

The younger Goldstein still takes his father out for fast drives in

the black Porsche. They still rally at UC Irvine basketball games and

they still sit on their patio where the view seems to stretch almost to

the curve of the earth.

Sure, Goldstein’s game of pool isn’t what it use to be, but he’s using

a bridge pod on which he lays his cue.

“This was another one of his childhood dreams,” Ethan Goldstein said,

patting the pool table. “So we just look at it now. But we’ll be playing

again.”