Saturday, January 07, 2006

The Tim Cox Story

In 2004 Bette was asked to write an article about her husband Tim for the Voice of the Diabetic Magazine, published and distributed worldwide by the National Federation of the Blind. The following article appeared in the Fall 2004 edition.

The article appeared with this photograph. The caption on the poster in the background reads: “Do Not Pray for an Easy Life...Pray to be a Strong Person.”


"Tim Cox 'Sees' a Lot More Life than Most Folks Do" reads the article headline from the Florence Morning News of Sunday, May 4, 1986.

This just one of dozens written over the years about the 58 year old native of Kingstree, South Carolina, who at age 5 developed juvenile diabetes. Insulin shots became a way of life for this little boy, in the days when there was very little sugar-free anything to satisfy a child's craving for sweets. A constant dietary balancing act became his mother Ora Lee's way of life, as were frequent trips to the doctor's office or hospital.

As Tim grew, he determined to never let diabetes stop him from accomplishing the important things in life. He joined the high school tennis team, played french horn and the trombone in the marching band, he water skiied, and he had a ton of friends. In 1964 he graduated from Kingstree High School (celebrating their 40th class reunion with Tim as primary instigator this June). He went on to business school, began work as a computer programmer, and got married. His daughter Angelia was born. And then Tim started having vision problems. He underwent laser treatments, traveled to Dukane University in Pittsburgh to be trained as a blind programmer, and by Labor Day 1974, Tim began losing his eyesight. A month later his kidneys failed.

Up until that time, diabetics in South Carolina had never been put on dialysis. They were left to die. But Tim wouldn't give up, and after many agonizing days of praying, pleading and waiting, he became the first diabetic ever to be put on dialysis in South Carolina. His wife learned how to do home dialysis, but the many pressures of his illness soon led to separation and later divorce. Once again Tim had to rely on his parents, family and friends, and a lot of prayer.

Eventually Tim's mother learned to operate the home dialysis unit, and the family settled into a precarious routine. Tim refused to settle for being "disabled." He got involved with his whole heart in the community -- serving on local boards for the American Diabetic Association (ADA), American Cancer Society, Kidney Foundation, and Jaycees. He helped found the Black River CB Club and organized such activities as the "Coffee Club Patrol," calling drivers in from the highway to raise funds for house fire victims. During these years, Tim won many awards: Outstanding Jaycee in South Carolina, 1978; Kingstree Jaycee of the Year 1979, and the Adam Fisher Award of the ADA, 1981. He was a member of the Committee on Computers for the Physically Handicapped based in Chicago, Illinois, the South Carolina Physically Handicapped Society and the National Federation for the Blind. He kept very busy between dialysis treatments.

In 1978, after four years of ups and downs with dialysis, Tim and his mother traveled to the New England Deaconess Hospital in Boston and Ora Lee donated a kidney. Tim arrived home from the hospital at 12:05 AM, Christmas Day 1978. A month later, he became public affairs director and talk show host for WKSP radio in Kingstree. He owned a 1976 Datsun 280Z, and with driver Joel Stone, in 1979 he competed in several Sports Car Club of America races, coming home with first or second places.

"He Has Battled Death and Won." So reads a December 17, 1979 Charlotte Observer headline. A State Newspaper headline of December 25, 1979 reads, "Christmas Very Special to Tim Cox." And it was, indeed. Tim celebrated by arranging for the Brass Ensemble of the Charleston Symphony to play two public concerts in Kingstree, "as a Christmas gift to the community."

"Blindness Didn't Stop Him," reads the headline from a Florence Morning News article of 1983. Tim had determined to get on with his career and enrolled in Francis Marion University in Florence. He moved to Florence, rented a room in a boarding house, and still owned a car. "It's a lot easier to bum a ride if you have your own car," he said. He graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration in December of 1982 and went to work as the only blind instructor in the state's technical college system. He had all his text books audiotaped and recorded his class notes on tape also. "Talk about a challenge, whew!" he said. He moved into an apartment complex and "sometimes I would be known to run into the hall asking my neighbors, what was in the box of Lean Cuisine, and for how long did I set the microwave!"

About that time, Tim met Bette Gaymon at a Full Gospel Businessmen's meeting in Florence, where she served as pianist. They began dating and were married on Christmas Day, 1984. Diets and insulin shots became the way of life for yet another person in Tim's life.

When Tim's contract with the technical college ran out, he and Bette opened their own business, Executive Services of the Pee Dee, Inc., a full-line secretarial service. It was May, 1986. Tim and Bette both got involved in their community. With Bette at the wheel of his car, Tim became a popular spokesman for the ADA, speaking to civic and church groups across the state. Both joined the board of Crimestoppers of the Pee Dee, and Tim took up playing his french horn again, joining Bette in the music ministry of their church. Their business grew and expanded along with their community activities.

"Tim Cox Receives President's Trophy," reports a May 1988 headline from the Florence Morning News, as Tim was named Florence's Handicapped Citizen of the Year. This award was followed by being named South Carolina Handicapped Citizen of the Year for 1988, as well as Employer of the Year of the Handicapped, recognized for hiring handicapped employees for his business. But ...

By 1987, Ora Lee's donated kidney had begun to fail. Despite the tightest blood sugar control Tim and Bette could achieve, diabetes had taken a toll on the transplant, and Tim began to study the possibility of a pancreas transplant to stop the diabetes completely. There was one obstacle -- he also had coronary and other major artery disease, likewise a result of diabetes. "Get your arteries fixed, and then we'll talk," said the physicians. That didn't seem to be an option at the time.

But in May of 1987, Tim was admitted to the hospital with unstable angina, and while an inpatient on the cardiac floor he suffered cardiac arrest. An emergency pacemaker saved his life and ten days later he underwent triple bypass surgery. Later that year, his right leg had to be amputated due to gangrene. Diabetes had wrecked the peripheral arterial system in the leg. After recovering from all that, Tim made another call about the pancreas transplant, and after traveling alone in September 1988 to the University of Minnesota Medical Center for a complete examination, he was accepted as a candidate for a double kidney-pancreas transplant. Since the kidney was already weak, they must replace it also. While Tim awaited a donor, this time he began fund raising efforts for himself -- in 1988, insurance companies considered a pancreas transplant experimental and wouldn't cover those costs.

"Tim Cox Never Gives In To Fate" said Charlie Walker in a December 14th newspaper column in the Kingstree News. "Tim Cox believes when you're handed lemons, you make lemonade," quipped Charlie. He pointed out all the other people Tim had helped over the years, and the fact that now Tim needed help. Charlie organized a Jail-A-Thon to help out. Civic clubs, church groups, friends, business acquaintances, and even strangers -- people all over the state began helping out. Billboards went up all over the county: "Tim Cox Needs $100,000." A trust fund was set up by a local civic club, a beeper was donated, and money started coming in.

On December 23, 1988, the call came in. "We've got a perfect match. You need to get here within twelve hours." But the private planes Tim had lined up weren't available due to the holidays. And all the major airports connecting to Florence were fogged in, so he couldn't get to Minneapolis on a regular airline, even though Florence skies were clear. Desperate calls went out for a private plane, and one was finally found in North Carolina. Friends, family and news reporters waved goodbye as Tim's parents, Tim and Bette flew out of Florence, headed for Minneapolis. By this time Bette's daughter Shelby Powell was helping run the business, a tremendous blessing over the weeks ahead.

The transplants took place on Christmas Eve. All day long Tim's parents and Bette sat, stood, paced the floor and prayed in the nearly deserted waiting room, and finally Dr. David Sutherland, head of the surgical team, came out with the news. The pancreas and kidney were working fine -- the pancreas fired up immediately when the last stitch went in and Tim no longer needed insulin shots.

Over the next two days, bleeding problems necessitated two more surgeries, but thirty days later Tim was back home in Florence and well on the way to recovery. Diabetes was no longer a problem but fund raising had to resume, with talent shows, gospel sings, auctions, and a myriad of other events. Slowly but surely, the community responded and enough funds were collected to defray most of the medical bills and medications not covered by insurance.

Today, over 15 years later, Tim is busier than ever. The transplants are still working fine, and Tim is a true advocate for pancreas and kidney transplants, and of course organ donation. The disease was stopped in its tracks, but the damage already caused by diabetes wasn't reversible. Tim lost his other leg in 1989 and later most of his fingers. He's had several small strokes which affected his hearing. However, he still runs his business, still plays his french horn for church, and is still active in community affairs and politics. In 1991 he organized the UP (for Used Parts) Club, a support group for transplant patients of all types, and established the Carolina Transplant Foundation, a nonprofit organization designed to assist patients in fund-raising. He received WBTW-TV13's "Giving Your Best" Award in 1991. In 1992 he added another division to his company, Advanced Insulation. He was named Florence County Republican Party Volunteer of the Year for 1993-95, and received the James B. Edwards Award of the state Republican Party in 1998.

"Advantage: Attitude" is yet another headline about Tim. "I don't consider myself handicapped, I'm handicapable," declared Tim in the 1992 business article in the Morning News. That really sums it up well. "Tim Cox is Not Special; He's Stubborn," said another Morning News column in 1997. "I like to surprise people. I like to do things they think I can't do." And he's still doing it. Tim is now a grandfather with a two year old granddaughter, Bella.(And now a 1 year old grandson, Liam.) He and Bette recently added a new division to their company, Family Memories, which conducts interviews for personal histories, biographies or memoirs. Visit their web site and take a look at Tim's resume. (www.SCFamilyMemories.com)

Tim could never have survived, much less accomplished all that he has, without the help of his family, his multitudes of friends, and his faith in Jesus Christ. Every time there was a medical setback, a call for prayer went out across South and North Carolina and things took a dramatic turn for the better. A special Bible verse came to Tim's mom Ora Lee during a critical period, and over the years it has been a great source of strength. If you don't remember much else about Tim Cox, remember that verse: "With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation." (Psalms 91:16)

That is the reason that still today, "Tim Cox 'Sees' a Lot More Life than Most Folks Do."

A Cool Dozen

Black River, SC
Tim Cox recalls a memorable trip down Black River in 1964...

December 26, 1964 a dozen members of the 1964 Class of Kingstree High School, most home from our first college semester, took a boat trip down Black River for fun, fellowship and adventure.

Charlie Bell, Tommy Bishop, Buford Boyd, Tim Cox, Danny Fry, Paul Jacobs, Billy Jenkinson, James Hugh McCutcheon, Richard Mims, Frank Seignious, Phil Stoll, and Johnny Tanner distributed ourselves among seven small boats of varying sizes, all powered by small outboard motors. An adult friend, Aubrey Williamson, served as unofficial guide for the first leg of the trip and carried our supplies in his large 16-foot boat.

One of South Carolina's scenic rivers, Black River is indeed black although clear, not muddy, with a white sand bottom. If you scooped up a glass full, the water would look just like brewed tea. Tannic acid from cypress trees growing along the river darkens the water, like the tannic acid in tea. Lynches River, Little Pee Dee, Waccamaw, Edisto, and Black River all have black water from cypress trees.

The morning after Christmas dawned sunny and cool. We put in below Kingstree, planning to end the day at Brown's Landing. Near Kingstree the river was barely twenty feet wide and in narrow spots the water ran swift, but suddenly the river opened out into a beautiful vista. Except for navigating around the occasional log we had smooth travel for miles. Ducks and deer peered at us from the banks as we put-putted by. There were no snakes or alligators to worry us, being winter time.

Our 4:30 arrival at the Landing left little daylight to set up camp and unpack food supplies. As the sun went down and the temperature with it, we scrounged for kindling and started a camp fire. Aubrey's ride arrived and he departed for home and his nice, warm bed. Hot dogs, vienna sausages, peanuts and junk food made our supper, but our favorites that night were coffee and hot chocolate. It was growing very chilly.

We were all dressed appropriately for the occasion, we thought -- heavy coats, hats, gloves, hunting boots and thick socks. Each had a sleeping bag and Charlie Bell and Tommy Bishop even had a tent. We kept the fire going until too tired to tend it, sleeping bags spread in a semicircle around it. Crawling in fully clothed with hats pulled low and just our noses poking out to breath, we thought sleep would be easy. It wasn't.

We were not prepared for the 24-degree weather that night, plus sleet. Tree branches kept the worst of the sleet off of us, but Charlie soon got so cold he decided to re-start the fire. The sound of Charlie chopping down trees to feed the fire awakened the rest of us every couple of hours.

At daylight all we wanted was coffee and hot chocolate to thaw us out. Ice had formed in the bottom of some boats, and Billy Jenkinson and Frank Seignious' outboard engine refused to crank. Billy pulled until his arm tired out and Frank crawled to the back to help out. Unbalanced, their two-man boat tipped one way, then the other, and water poured in on three sides. Bailing their boat delayed our departure, but finally we got that last engine cranked up.

Aubrey didn't return that morning -- guess he thought it was too cold -- so Danny Fry took over solo control of my boat, I moved to Aubrey's 16-footer, and the smaller boats moved out in front. Aubrey had warned us that the river was deceptive close to the landing, and he was right. In the daylight the water appeared to run straight ahead but the map showed a 90-degree turn to the right. Sure enough, some guys missed the turn and ran out of water. They thought they'd have to haul the boats through the woods to find the river again. Watching from behind, I circled around and slowly ran down the right hand side, checking the current until I found the turn between two large cypress trees. The opening was only 12 to 15 feet wide. We re-grouped and started again.

Down river we stopped at a cabin where some guys came out to chat. "We hate to tell you," they said, "but there's some fallen trees blocking the water downriver. Those small boats might make it but you'll never get that big boat through." Well, being teenage boys we decided to go for it anyway. Sure enough, a few miles downstream the river was blocked. Some of our dozen had been football players, big strong guys, so they climbed out to clear enough of the brush on one sandy bank to carry the boats around. The small boats were easy, but Aubrey's 16-footer was nearly impossible. Wearing his waders, Richard Mims eased out into the water. We all yanked, pushed and pulled to make a gap big enough to manhandle the big boat through. A solid hour of precious daylight was gone. "Are we still having fun?"

Things seemed to be going fine again, when we hit a "T" where it looked like the body of Black River ran into some other river. As the boats up ahead turned right, I watched to see which way the water flowed. Yep, that was the wrong way. Back-tracking was getting old, but nearing Andrews where the water gets wide, we thought we could make up for lost time. And we did, until we reached the Andrews Narrows and yet another log jam. This time there was no way around. Ropes were made fast to one log, then another, the outboards were cranked up, and gradually we pulled the downed trees apart. Another long hour had passed, but all the boats were through. We were getting short on fun and a little long on adventure…

Out in the wider water there were no trees close enough to serve as windbreaks. The cold was seeping through to our bones, and with daylight getting away we speeded up and stretched out. My boat had a smaller engine than the others and Danny had trouble keeping up. The rest of us arrived at Brown's Ferry, piled out and got a bonfire started, but still no Danny. When Aubrey rejoined us at the Ferry he and another guy took off in his boat upriver, searching. They found Danny still put-putting along, holding up a gas lantern to see where he was going.

Huddled around the bonfire we tried our best to get warm. Buford Boyd pulled off his frozen boots, stretched his feet close to the fire and said, "If I could figure out how to levitate and hold both feet out at one time that sure would be great."

After a moment he added, "You know, I'm mad at my mama." We all asked, "Why?" He said, "She had better sense than to let me come on something like this!"