My son Jake was always an athlete. He played basketball, football, rugby, baseball, volleyball with ease. He snowboarded and rode dirt bikes as well as water skiing. He was a natural. My other two sons loved sports but had to work harder at being good.
I remember when Jake was set to arrive home from the hospital after his long rehab and healing process. His spinal cord injury was severe, a T-9 complete but we were very thankful he could still use his arms. The day before his return home I remember going into his closet. It was there I saw his sports things. Some were still stinky, filled with sweat. Some were from past seasons waiting their turn to be worn into battle again. As a mamma of a struggling, wounded, very proud young man this was too much. It was a reality check. I remember falling to the closet floor and sobbing. After that, I began frantically stuffing rugby shorts, shoulder pads, cleats, jerseys and footballs into plastic bags and stuffing them out of sight. Was I thinking that maybe if he didn’t see the equipment he would forget that his legs no longer worked? I think I was trying to protect him, as mothers do, against more hurt. My son who had to instantly cross over into manhood was going to come home to a room that looked exactly the same but his entire life had been shaken and turned on its head.
Jake did return home to his same room. As I turned to say goodnight and turn off the light his first night home I saw panic in his eyes. He was used to a call button for a nurse and people checking on him all night This hadn’t really dawned on me. I stayed with him that night and others. It was then I heard my son’s small voice which had been strong for so many months now sound like when he was five years old. He whispered “Mom, why would God do this to me?” I gulped and fought back tears. I felt like I had been given the bonus question on Jeopardy and could not answer incorrectly. I answered, “I don’t know Jake, and I don’t blame you for being angry. I don’t get it either. I do know however that I don’t believe in a God who is looking down saying ‘Wow, how did that happen to Jake?’ I believe there is a plan even though right now it is hard to see and painful.”
For all of you are reading this and have been there; rejoice. You have crossed over. You now realize that being grateful for what you DO have; brain function, use of arms, a brilliant smile, a sense of humor are blessings. To the mothers that have endured the pain that I have known; those dark hours and have survived.
Pimpmychair.com was founded because in the darkest hours there can be joy. Lights on your wheels for Prom or a cushion cover with neon peace signs because you are a rebel. The world of a spinal cord patient does not have to be black. It is merely the beginning of another journey and pardon me…kicking some ass. Jake still dreams at night of playing Rugby but he is definitely kicking some ass.
