Against All Odds Theo Bell was just a boy growing up in California when his father died and his mother said she couldn't raise him. The authorities sent him to one foster home, then another. That might have been as far as this story went, because what happened there was all too typical. Bell endured verbal and physical abuse, and learned too early the meaning of despair and desperation. But there was never acceptance. He never gave up. ``Growing up, my goal was to find a way out,'' he said. ``If I couldn't do that, I'd dig my way out if I had to.'' He found a way to the University of Arizona, then dared to imagine a career in the National Football League as a wide receiver. Receivers are supposed to be tall targets, but Bell stands only 6 feet. They're supposed to be blazers, but Theo Bell really wasn't. That didn't keep him from winning two Super Bowl rings with the Pittsburgh Steelers, nor did it keep him from catching 95 passes in five seasons with the Bucs. The winning didn't stop there, though. Bell became a go-to guy in life, dedicated to helping at-risk students at Blake High School prepare for college and beyond. These days though, that's not so easy, because Bell is up against the odds again. He needs dialysis three times a week to do the work his kidneys no longer will. He has been beset by twin whammies - polycystic kidney disease and scleroderma. The latter disease causes thickening of the skin and blood vessels. In its severe form, it can destroy internal organs. There is no cure, although the milder form - which Bell apparently has - can lay dormant for years. His long-term survival chances depend on receiving a kidney transplant, and that's just a matter of luck and fortunate DNA. Maybe there's a match, maybe not. All he can do is wait. ``What happened to him is kind of like Russian roulette - just bad luck,'' said Michael Pickering, a nephrologist on the staff of St. Joseph's Hospital who helps treat Bell. There are treatments, but the only cure is a transplant. He has a brother in California who has volunteered to be a donor, but doctors are still running tests to see if the brother's kidney would work in Theo. It may be a few more months before they know. There is some good news. Because his kidney disease is genetic, he had his four children checked for the likelihood of developing the condition. ``They're OK,'' Bell said. And he wept for just a moment. Bell first noticed blood in his urine about five years ago. ``That's normally a serious sign,'' he said Tuesday morning with a wry chuckle. Many tests later, doctors told him what he had can never be cured. Polycystic kidney disease can be broken down this way: poly (many) cysts. The cysts overtake the kidneys and eventually destroy them. You can stall it through medication and diet, and that's where being an athlete helped. Bell was used to discipline, so he studied up on his disease and attacked it with lifestyle changes. He cut out a lot of salt and potassium from his diet. No pasta, breads or sugars. It hurt to give up bacon. ``It's like having a game plan,'' he said. Bell came to the Bucs in 1981 as a free agent from Pittsburgh. He was generally the third receiver with Kevin House and Gerald Carter during his five seasons here before retiring after the 1985 season. ``The thing I remember most about Theo as a football player is that once he stepped on the field, he was the hardest-working guy out there,'' said Jimmie Giles, who played tight end for the Bucs while Theo was on the team. ``I think it must have been that work ethic he brought here from Pittsburgh, but it really rubbed off on the younger players. He was a good role model for them.'' It was always about the kids, though. Football was great and he made friendships to last a lifetime, but Bell's life's work is to help kids escape the trap of abuse and despair. Those twin monsters were familiar companions at one of the foster homes he lived in when growing up. He endured beatings and hopelessness. ``He doesn't talk about it much,'' said his wife, Joan. His actions spoke loudly though. He became determined to help others avoid the same fate. So now he is part of a program originated at the University of South Florida. They target kids in middle school and follow them through high school graduation. Along the way, Bell teaches the value of education. The program is called GEARUP - Gaining Early Awareness Readiness of Undergraduate Programs. His first group will leave Blake in a few weeks. He gave them love; they returned it. He gave them hope; they returned that too. A special Blake choir came to the hospital during one of Bell's stays and sang for him. Another group of Hispanic students came and formed a circle around him, laying on hands in prayer. Joan's eyes clouded with tears as she talked about it. ``They just mean so much to him,'' she said. ``One of the students came by to see him and told him, `Mr. Bell, you can't die.' '' Bell, 51, still goes to work at Blake each morning, but most days it isn't easy. He gets dialysis each Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school. That means sitting attached to a machine that cleans his blood of toxins, and it takes up to four hours to complete. Bell passes the time with reading and meditation. ``If I allowed this to overwhelm me, I'd go south in a hurry,'' he said. He'll drive himself home from the clinic, pulling into the driveway around 9 p.m. Joan offered to drive, but Theo wouldn't hear of it. ``He's so independent,'' she said. ``When he first got this, he insisted on doing all the things like yard work and stuff around the house himself. Then one day I came outside and he was slumped over the car, struggling to breathe. He had overdone it.'' Lately, it has been harder to make it through the week. Dealing with the kidney shutdown is bad enough, but scleroderma complicates matters even more. It's rare - about one in a thousand people have it. It can be painful and make it difficult to do even simple tasks, such as closing your hand. Doctors are using some new treatments on Bell, including steroids, and it helps some. But he can't get far from the dialysis machine, and that takes a toll. By the time he recovers from the blood cleansing, it's time to go through it again. Theo can't do much of the stuff he used to handle at the house, so it falls to Joan. He used to cook; now she does. He's too tired for household chores. She has to open bottles for him, and sometimes help him dress. His weight has fallen from 225 pounds to 180. ``It's like I'm the wife now and the husband too,'' she said. But hope is out there. Maybe his brother's kidney will be a match and they can do the transplant. If not, maybe someone from the national organ donor list will be the one. Theo signed up to be a donor years ago, never dreaming then he'd be the one to receive before he got to give. Until then, all they can do is wait. Wait for a call. Wait for a cure. Wait for this to be over so he can go on helping the kids. Joe Henderson, The Tampa Tribune, 27 April 2005 Footnote - unfortunately the treatment did not work and Theo Bell died a few months after this article was written