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Scott enjoys
time on his computer at McKenzie Health Care Center.
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Scott Cox and his sister Tammy Mannarino grew
up in Chicago where his parents, Ken and Linda,
had settled after meeting while Ken was in the
Army. Ken, whose roots were in West Tennessee,
had met his New York bride while on leave.
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I'm able to survive
because I've got the Lord and he's my victory, you know;
that is the bottom line." |
Scott laughs that his mom initially thought she was
being introduced to a man from Paris, France; not Paris,
Tennessee.
Laughter comes easily to the dark-haired gentleman whose
flashing eyes and ready smile are gateways to a heart as
big as the universe, and one that is guided by the
creator of that all-encompassing entity.
Scott lives at McKenzie Healthcare Center at the
youthful age of 40 due to his affliction with
Huntington's Disease. Both Scott and Tammy, also a
resident at the Center, inherited the disorder from
their unknowing mother.
But, both before and after the symptoms of the syndrome
surfaced, Scott approached life with uncommon gusto.
As children, Scott and Tammy, who was three years older
than her little brother, enjoyed roller-skating on their
suburban streets and on the hardwood floors of St.
Andrews Lutheran Church.
"That was part of their ministry," explains
Scott, who was raised in the Lutheran faith.
Born Scott Joseph Cox on June 27, 1963, he is
"Scottie Joe" to his family, and he grins as
he recalls his mother calling him down from some
youthful prank. "Scottie Joe!" he calls out
quietly, smiling in reverie.
His room sports a variety of small model cars and photos
of his family that now includes step-mom Susan. Upon his
desk is a computer from which music softly plays, and
among objects hanging on the wall are two huge fish, a
walleye and a great northern pike, mounted on driftwood
plaques.
Scott reminisces about the 1978 fishing trip when he
caught one of the fish. "I was knee high to a
grasshopper!" he exclaims, recalling the chore of
manhandling the fighting fish. When his dad was finally
able to snag the big walleye in a net at the side of the
boat, Scott says, "I was ecstatic!"
The two-week trip to Canada was a yearly treat for Scott
as he was growing up. He recalls another year when a
black bear hung around throughout the trip, eating the
fish "innards" discarded by the troupe that
included his dad's friend, Joe Rotosh. When the guys
went to collect their fish before leaving on the last
day of their trip, they discovered the bear had eaten
the entire catch.
Scott was a member of the first graduating class of
Streamwood High School in 1982. Shortly thereafter, he
informed the Army recruiter he wanted to jump out of
airplanes.
"He told me I was too light to jump out of
airplanes," Scott grins, "I was just a little
guy; I never got too much bigger."
The size of his resolve, however, was greater than the
size of any obstacles in the way of his dreams. After
months of arduous training, Scott wore the black beret
and exclusive insignia of the elite Army Rangers,
assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment in
Fort Lewis, Washington.
"I always wanted to jump out of airplanes,"
Scott reiterates, by way of explaining his success in
attaining his lofty goal.
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Scott as an 18-year-old soldier in
training. |
The training was daunting, however, starting with basic
training, then airborne school, preceding the rigorous
Ranger Indoctrination Program that prepares men mentally
and physically to become members of the select group of
soldiers.
Scott earned the designation "Mighty Max" due
to his ability to do more push-ups and sit-ups and ran
faster than anyone else in his unit.
"I had a little bit of attitude they had to break,
so I was doing a lot of push-ups," he says,
imitating his drill sergeant in a restrained voice:
"Drop, Cox, and give me 76!" When he had
finished the task, he recalls, the drill sergeant
continued, "Give me five more just because you want
to!"
"Yes, sir!" Scott continues, sotto voce, then
grins, "They broke the attitude quick, but I was in
great shape."
The strenuous physical training continued with a
vengeance through Ranger training when the men "had
push-ups for breakfast."
"Drop, Ranger, and give me 20 pushups for
breakfast!" Scott mimics, responding, "Thank
you, Sergeant! I love you Sergeant! That's the best
breakfast I ever had!"
Ranger training included learning to survive in a
variety of environments - arctic, jungle, mountains, and
desert. Since it was impossible to carry six weeks of
c-rations, and because fire was not an option since it
would betray the soldiers' position, Ranger candidates
ate what they could find in order to maintain their
strength throughout the training program.
"A lot of times we had raw meat," Scott
shares. "We just found something that looked
good."
Snake was one delicacy on the trainees' menu. "A
lot of people think it tastes like chicken," he
relates matter-of-factly.
One of the "best parts" of the training for
Scott was the "very advanced" confidence
courses that both taught and tested teamwork. He
describes one hurdle that consisted of a tall tower that
had to be scaled without the aid of ropes or other
tools.
"It's bunch of mind games; they want to see if your
mind is good enough to be a Ranger," explains
Scott. "They drain you physically and mentally, but
when I got my black beret, my scroll and Ranger tag I
was a happy guy!"
As an Airborne Ranger he was trained in HALO (high
altitude, low opening) parachuting. "Sometimes very
high altitude," Scott says, explaining that
paratroopers were once easy targets for snipers who
could see the chutes opening as the Rangers exited the
aircraft.
Routine "static line" parachuting involves
soldiers hooking the static line, attached to their
parachutes, to a cable that runs the length of the
aircraft before making their ways to the open hatch from
which they jump. As they jump, the static line pulls the
cord that opens the chute.
Scott describes the process more graphically with a
cadence he once chanted along with his fellow Rangers:
"C-130 rolling down the strip; Airborne Ranger on a
no-return trip; Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door;
Jump right up and count to four; 1000, 2000, 3000 and
four!"
In HALO jumping, the Rangers, wearing oxygen masks, jump
from the aircraft at altitudes of 25,000 to 35,000 feet,
free falling to 1100 feet above the ground before
opening their chutes.
"It seems like forever," says Scott,
describing the sensational, life-saving fall.
"You're just a pin drop so they don't see you until
right at the limit (of when the chute opens) and then
you're pretty much on the ground."
"It was a big adrenaline rush," he says,
coming back down to earth from the exciting account.
"Back then I was young."
Most of Scott's jumps were from C-130 airplanes and
Black Hawk and Chinook helicopters. He describes
Chinooks as double prop helicopters that resemble
"flying bananas".
"Also we would never leave a fallen comrade in the
hands of the enemy, that's the Ranger's Creed,"
Scott says solemnly, concerning the dangerous missions
undertaken by Ranger units to pave the way for other
forces to enter theatres of war made less hostile by the
work of the Rangers, whose motto is "We lead the
way."
We always said, "Follow me," Scott says
sincerely.
He left the Army in 1988 only to be called back in 1990
as the first Gulf War became a reality.
"I wanted to go back," he says. Again the
Rangers' mission was to go in first to secure the area
before other troops arrived.
Some time after the Gulf War, Scott moved to Florida to
help care for his mother, who had grown increasingly ill
as her disease progressed. His father had moved to the
balmy state in an effort to ease his wife's symptoms
when her affliction was not yet understood.
"It was really hard on him because they didn't know
what it was," Scott says.
Huntington's Disease manifests itself in emotional,
cognitive and physical symptoms, according to
literature. The emotional symptoms can occur months or
years before other symptoms and include varying degrees
of depression, irritability, apathy and anxiety with
resulting aggressiveness, mood swings and social
withdrawal. Short-term memory loss eventually becomes a
problem and concentration becomes more difficult.
Most obvious, however, are the physical symptoms that
first appear to be nervous twitches, fidgeting or
restlessness. In time, the involuntary movements of the
body and limbs become more pronounced, affecting balance
and walking as well as speech and swallowing.
Dr. George Huntington chose in 1872 to call the disease
Hereditary Chorea after the Greek word "chorein",
which means dance. The disease was later called
Huntington's Chorea and, still later, Huntington's
Disease in recognition of symptoms other than the
chorea.
The disease is passed from generation to generation
through a dominant gene, which means children of
afflicted parents have a 50 percent chance of inheriting
the disease. Symptoms normally begin between the ages of
30 and 50, so that children may be born before the
disease is realized in the parent. This was especially
true before modern medicine identified the gene
responsible for the disorder and made a test available
for early diagnosis.
His mother was around 35-37 when her symptoms began,
says Scott, who worked in Florida as a night auditor for
a hotel at night and took care of his mother during the
day.
"But then she got so sick I couldn't take care of
her anymore," he says, "I felt so bad when she
had to go to a nursing home."
When his mother passed away at the age of 60, Scott
returned to Chicago. Soon afterward, on June 10, 1997 he
married his long-time friend, Cathleen.
"We knew each other a long time, a looong
time," he says of his wife, whom he met at a book
signing party in Chicago.
But in September the same year, Scott began having
symptoms of Huntington's Disease. "I was starting
to get really clumsy when I was walking," he says.
His wife was unable to accept the change in her husband.
"She couldn't handle my disease; I don't think
that's right," Scott says somewhat impulsively, but
he adds, "It's hard on a lot of people, really.
Technically we're still married, she just wanted me to
move out.
"Some people can't handle husband or wives
deteriorating," he says later. He wishes he had
Internet access so he could email Cathleen with photos
and progress reports.
Scott moved to Arkansas where his father lived when it
became harder to take care of himself alone. The disease
had manifested itself in Tammy when she was in her early
30s and she was by that time also living in an Arkansas
nursing home.
The family returned to Tennessee about three years ago
to be near Scott's grandmother, Clara Schmidt, who was
battling cancer. Ken, who made his new home in Jolly
Springs, found McKenzie Health Care Center for Scott and
Tammy before they made the trip from Arkansas.
"One of the reasons I came in here is because my
sister gets agitated and I am able to calm her
down," Scott explains. "I go in there and make
her start laughing, or try to. I keep an eye on my
sister."
Scott's calming influence with Tammy is just one
expression of his overall gift for brightening the lives
of others with his positive attitude and joyful
demeanor. He is a ray of sunshine at McKenzie Health
Care Center, spreading cheer everywhere he goes.
"People ask me how I am positive," he says.
"I get up in the morning and look in the mirror and
tell myself, 'You're going to have an excellent day.'
You know what - the Lord's on my side. I'm going to have
an excellent day today no matter what happens. That's
kind of like my motto."
And while he is aware the rapid progression of science
is relative, he remains hopeful treatments will be found
to benefit the victims of Huntington's Disease.
"What's going to happen to me when the stages start
rolling in is, I'm going to stay positive," he
declares, "They're doing gene research - they've
already found this gene - they're doing gene research
all the time. I think they'll be able to find out a
cure, that's what I pray for."
Scott, who was baptized in the cold waters of Bull
Shoals Lake off the White River in Arkansas in 2000,
says that when he wanted to attend church in McKenzie,
Yancy Pyles volunteered to take him. The two are now in
the same Sunday School class of the First Baptist
Church.
"That church adopted me," smiles Scott,
describing how his Sunday School partners position a
table for him so he can drink coffee during class on
Sunday mornings.
In time Scott became an official greeter for the church.
"I really enjoy that; it's my spiritual gift,"
Scott says sincerely, adding with a grin, "Brother
Dennis (Trull) says sometimes I overdo it."
As for his future plans, Scott says he would like to
have served in foreign missions. "I think that
would have been very nice," he says, "But now
I enjoy serving the Lord anyway I can; whatever he asks
me to do, I do. I'm able to survive because I've got the
Lord and he's my victory, you know; that is the bottom
line."
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