Love You Forever

The day they put Jason in her arms, red and screaming, Joanne Street felt a love she'd never known was possible. She looked up at Mitch's smiling, stunned face and knew that they had become a family.

They had wanted more kids—to give Jason some brothers and sisters—but it never happened. Instead they embraced the other kids in Jason's life like Tim Riggins, making a family out of the people in their lives rather than the babies could not have.

She always worried that people would find out that she didn't really care if Jason played football or not. She knew it was important to him and to Mitch, but she would have been just as happy if he played the violin or wanted to be an actor or won the geography bee. When college recruiters started showing up she was actually surprised. She knew he was good, but it wasn't until the article in USA Today listed him as the top prep quarterback that she understood just how good, how special he was. He was always just her Jason—the greatest kid a mom could ever have.

When he was little she used to read him a book called Love You Forever about a mother who loved her son so much she would rock him to sleep each night, even when he was a grown up and she had to drive across town and climb a ladder into his room. Jason would laugh and snuggle into her lap and kiss her neck and tell her that he'd love her forever.

When he got to be taller than her, he'd grab her and hug her tight and remind her that when she was old, he'd take her in his lap and rock her, just like in the book.

Was it awful that in those first hours in the hospital, she regretted that he would never pick her up and put her in his lap…and then realized that she couldn't pick him up either? For the first time in her life, she was afraid of her son—afraid of hurting him more than he had been hurt already when he’d rushed straight into the wall of flesh that was that kid from Westerby, a kid just trying to win a big football game.

She sat next to him and looked at the monitors, the tubes, the halo vest, and she cried. Her Jason was gone forever.

Joanne stood outside the hospital room. Mitch had dropped her off at the door. She wanted to tell him that she'd go to the parking lot with him and walk in together, but he had assumed that she'd want to get right up to Jason. And she did…she could barely believe that they had left him alone last night at all, but she was afraid to walk in there alone.

"Mrs. Street?"

She turned to find a nurse standing next to her. She nodded her head and smiled.

"I'm Lourdes. I'm taking care of Jason today. He's still on the morphine and pretty out of it. Do you want me to come in and show you what all the machines and tubes are for?"

Joanne nodded again, not trusting her voice to speak. She paused for a moment, and then followed the nurse into Jason's room.

The first thing she noticed was that the halo vest was gone and a neck brace was in its place. Jason appeared to be asleep. "Where's the…"

"The doctor came and took the halo off this morning. The surgery went well and he won't need traction," Lourdes answered. "He's going to have to wear the neck brace for at least six weeks. It won't be comfortable, but it will be better than the halo and it means he'll be able to start therapy much sooner."

Joanne nodded, still unsure what all of it meant.

The nurse moved to the right side of Jason's bed and pulled back the sheet. She put on a pair of gloves and carefully checked the tube between Jason's legs. "He's going to have a catheter for a while, Mrs. Street. It's okay. He can't feel it and it doesn't bother him. Especially now, until spinal shock wears off, the body can't regulate many of its functions. We'll need to assist with bladder and bowel functions. This tube drains down here along to a bag on this side of the bed. It's important that we keep track of how much Jason drinks and how much he voids to make sure there aren't any problems with his kidneys."

Joanne nodded again. She had changed his diapers a million times as a baby, but it didn't seem right to be here with another person—a stranger talking about intimate things like how her son's bladder and bowel worked.

"It will take a while for the bowel to get going after anesthesia, but we'll use some medications…"

Joanne held her hand up. It was more than she could hear right now.

The nurse pulled the sheets back up and began to adjust the pillows around Jason, turning him on his side. "It's okay—it's a lot to take in today. Now, I'm turning him right now. It's important that we reposition him every two hours or so to prevent a sore from forming. It's very important to check his skin to make sure there aren't any red spots. The nurses will do it as well, but if you see anything, you be sure to let us know. We've got an air mattress on his bed, so that will help quite a bit too."

She pulled the sheets up a bit higher, tucking Jason in and then checked the bag of saline hanging on the pole next to his bed. "We'll keep him on a nasal canula for breathing for now. With his injury it's important that we prevent pneumonia if possible. His breathing isn't dramatically impaired, but until he gets used to his weakened diaphragm, it's best to give him a bit more support. We've also got some morphine in the IV drip, and a pulseox meter on his finger here to make sure he's getting enough oxygen. We'll try to get him started on some clear liquids this afternoon. He's not going to feel much like eating, but it's important to try to get him to eat something.

"If you and Mr. Street need anything, you let me know," Lourdes said as she turned to leave.

Joanne didn't even respond. Instead she crossed to the chair next to Jason's bed and dropped down, exhausted, staring at her still, silent son.

"We should talk about Jason's rehabilitation."

Joanne looked up at the social worker sitting across the desk from her. The questions and decisions had not stopped since the night of Jason's game. How long had it been? It felt like weeks, but she looked over at the calendar and realized it was only Thursday. Less than a week since her world had changed forever. And tomorrow they would play another football game. It didn't seem possible that there would be another game and Jason wouldn't be out there in his uniform. He would never be out there.

"Dr. Kroll is recommending TIRR in Houston. It's one of the top rehab centers in the country and obviously he would be there to oversee Jason's care."

"Houston?" Joanne asked. "Isn't there something closer? We can't have him all the way in Houston."

"We do have a rehab unit here, in Dillon, but I really recommend that you get Jason into the best possible program. He's had a very serious injury, Mrs. Street. You need to make sure that you're giving him every opportunity."

"And our insurance? Will it pay for him to be in Houston?" Joanne asked.

"We can call today and see if we can get it approved," the social worker responded. "It’s possible that our decision could already be made for us."

"Is it really best for him to be so far away? Away from his family and friends?" Joanne asked.

"Well, it is a factor to consider. He’s 17 and would have been going away to college in a year."

"This is hardly going away to college," Joanne replied, her voice sharp. "He's not an adult and he's scared. Can't you see that? My son doesn't cry—yet when I go in there I can tell he's barely keeping it together. We're all barely keeping it together. I can't see how sending him to Houston is going to make that any better."

"And that's a completely valid decision, Mrs. Street. Talk to your husband and talk to Jason. See how he feels about it as well."

Joanne stood up and picked up the pile of papers the social worker had given her about the various programs. She stuffed them in the accordion file she carried everywhere with her now. Jason had a paper trail a mile long and it was already clear that documenting every last thing was the only thing that might keep them from going broke.

Joanne glanced down at her watch. It was 7 pm. She slowed her step slightly, hoping to get to Jason's room after the nurse had finished. She had gotten off work earlier the night before and got there in the middle of his bath. She knew she should have gone in, helped somehow, but there was something about seeing her son—who had been so strong and independent—just lying there on a bed with tubes coming out of him, unable to even wash his own face.

She stopped outside the door and listened for voices. She could only hear the television. Jason seemed to be watching some sitcom.

"Hey, honey," she said as she walked in, her voice elevated, trying to sound upbeat. "Sorry, your dad's at the store tonight, working on some billing. He'll be here in the morning, though."

"Yeah, he called earlier," Jason replied.

She leaned down and opened up the drawer in the bureau next to Jason's bed. "I brought some laundry back for you," she told him as she put several pairs of boxers in the second drawer and t-shirts in the drawer below. She brushed her hands on her legs, shifted a few objects on bureau, and looked around. She felt useless. This was Jason’s home and she was supposed to be responsible for that, but instead it felt clinical and sterile and nothing at all like what she wanted for her little boy.

She sat down in the chair next to his bed, looked over at him and without meaning to, sighed. "So, that thing for your hand…that's new."

He was trying to eat a bowl of ice cream, with a Velcro contraption holding the spoon in his hand, tucked in his curled fingers.

"Yeah, it's a universal cuff," Jason said as he braced the bowl against his left arm while pushing the spoon into the melting ice cream with his right hand. "Phil got me started with it this afternoon."

"That's really good, honey," Joanne responded.

"Beats being fed by the nurses or Lyla," Jason answered quietly. He rested his hand on the bowl and turned to face her. "You don't have to come up here every night, Mom, if it's so hard for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I know you can hardly look at me," Jason said. "I just—I just don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Oh, Jason," she began. And it killed her to hear him say it because she would never want him to think that, but also because he was right. It was hard for her to see him like this.

"It's gonna get better, you know," he reassured her.

Joanne felt her throat catch, and then couldn't stop the sob that slipped out. "I'm sorry, baby…I…"

Jason reached over with his left hand and touched her arm. "You can cry about this, Mom. It sucks. It totally and completely sucks."

Joanne looked up and laughed, brushing the tears away from her eyes. "Jason Street. You know that we don't use that word."

"According to Herc, sometimes you just have to call the situation what it is," Jason replied.

"I'm not sure I kept you here in Dillon so that you'd be exposed to people quite as colorful as Herc," Joanne said.

"Why did you keep me here, Mom?" Jason asked. "Wouldn't it have been better to go to Houston?"

Joanne didn't answer for a moment. "Maybe it would have, Jason. Maybe we'll regret that later, but I couldn't let you go so far away. You're my baby. You'll always be, for your whole life and I know you can handle this, that you'll make the best of it, but I think I needed to be there and there's just no way I could go and be with you in Houston for three months. And I thought you needed your dad and Coach and Lyla, Tim, all of your friends. I didn't want you to have to do this all alone."

"Then why are you so scared of it?" Jason asked.

Joanne shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt you—I don't want to do the wrong thing and I know I have to just get in there and learn, but it's just so overwhelming, Jason. You just have to give me a little more time."

"It's still me, Mom," Jason replied. "I won't break. Honest."

Joanne took Jason's hand in hers, rubbing her thumb along the soft skin on the back of his hand. "I know, baby."

"Are you sure he's ready to go home?" Joanne asked Dr. Lewis. She looked over at Mitch, seeking confirmation from her husband that they were ready to handle having Jason at home. He reached over and took her hand in his as they faced Jason's doctor, physical therapist and the social worker, all gathered for the meeting about Jason's discharge.

"He is. He's doing very well, better than any of us expected at this point. I have his discharge from physical therapy here. He's able to transfer independently to and from his wheelchair; he's managing the activities of daily living and should be relatively independent," the doctor replied.

"But, someone will have to be with him, right?" she asked.

"He's should be just fine on his own, Mrs. Street," Phil, the physical therapist responded. "He'll need help with some things, but we did the home visit and you've got a bedroom set up that's accessible and the bathroom is modified so that he should be able to use it with very little assistance."

"And what about school?" Mr. Street asked.

"I'd give him a week or two to get settled, but then I see no problem in going back," the social worker responded. "I've talked with Mrs. Taylor at the high school and all of the necessary accommodations seem to be in place."

"And he'll be coming back here three times a week to continue with his therapy," Phil added.

"Will he get any better than this?" Joanne asked. "I understand he's stronger, but will his hands get better? Will he get other movement back?"

"Return can happen for up to two years after an injury," the doctor responded. "We just don't know."

"What about…" Joanne's voice trailed off.

"Jason asked us if he'd still be able to be a father," Mitch interjected. "My wife and I—we just didn't know what to say to him."

The social worker smiled and made a note in the file in front of her. "It's hard to know at this point. A spinal cord injury can make it difficult for a man to father a child the regular way, but it's not impossible. We do have classes here that I can tell Jason about that can help him with some of the issues of intimacy."

Joanne blushed slightly. "I just know he's worried about that and wondering…"

"He's just wondering like any 17-year-old boy would," Phil replied. "It's the first thing most guys try to figure out when they have an injury like this."

"The thing is, Mr. and Mrs. Street, you’ve got to remember that he's still your son—and you're all making an adjustment. It's not going to just suddenly be like it was, but it's going to get better almost every single day," Dr. Lewis said.

Joanne looked over at the doctor and wondered if he had a son. Did he even have a clue what she was feeling? Did he have a sense of the panic she felt every single time they had one of these meetings? Of course she knew Jason was still her son—but when was she going to get to be his mother again?

Joanne woke up with a start. She'd heard a yell. She pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Mitch didn't seem to have heard it and kept sleeping. She put on her slippers and headed downstairs to Jason's room.

"Honey?" she asked as she pushed the door open to his room.

Jason was in bed, his face sweaty and his eyes scared.

"Are you okay?" she asked, crossing the room quickly to the side of his bed.

"It was—it was so real," Jason said as she wiped the sweat off his face.

"What was so real?" she asked.

"I threw the ball again—and then he was coming and I knew I had to stop him and so I just…"

"Oh, baby," she soothed. "It was just a dream."

"Just a dream," Jason repeated.

"Let me get you something to help you get back to sleep," she said, rising from Jason's bed.

Jason reached out for her, his fingers glancing off the edge of her nightgown. "No, Mom. I don't want a pill. Can you just? Can you just stay here for a little bit?"

Joanne sat back down on the bed and ran her hand down the edge of Jason's face. "Of course. I'll stay here as long as you need me."

I'll love you forever
I'll love you for always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be
~ Robert Munsch

FIN

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