They used to call me the footy mum. I never missed a training session. I’d sit there for four hours watching Kurt train, and his dad and I never missed a game in the 13 years he played rugby league.
Now, I can’t bear to watch the game.
I still find it hard to accept that Kurt is a quadriplegic – and that it was the game he loved that put him in a wheelchair.
I also find it hard to accept that he has trouble breathing independently, and that without a ventilator, my son could suffocate and die.
Kurt was always the kid running around with a ball in his hand. Now it breaks my heart to know that he can’t even wrap his arms around his brother – his best mate – to hug him.
And knowing how athletic and tough Kurt was, how good a player he was, it’s hard for me to know there’s nothing I can do to help him walk and run again.
Kurt was only six weeks away from turning 21 when he was hit with a dangerous crusher tackle on June 7, 2015.
It was the day all our lives changed, irrevocably.
Mums are supposed to protect and fix things, but I can’t fix this.
When Kurt was tackled and rolled onto his back, his vertebrae twisted and broke. During his hospital stay, he also suffered a stroke in his spinal cord.
Kurt has the exact same injury as Christopher Reeve, and can now only move his chin. He can’t even feel his own face and needs a head brace to support his neck.
It costs more than $1m a year to look after my son who needs 24/7 care and rehabilitation for the rest of his life.
While Kurt and his siblings have, for the most part, accepted his injury, I’m still angry.
I’m angry that players still use ‘crusher tackles’ – where a grounded player's chin is forced down towards their torso.
Mums are supposed to protect and fix things, but I can’t fix this. What I can do is campaign for the change we need so that what happened to my son doesn’t happen to someone you love.
I’m angry there’s not more awareness of the dangers of these tackles. And I’m concerned that we’ll be seeing more spinal cord injuries because the game is now much faster, and players are much bigger and stronger than when I was growing up watching the game.
Despite my anger, I’m dedicated to making sure Kurt is healthy, happy and stays alive.
Since the accident, I’ve also suffered from severe anxiety, and had to quit my job because Kurt is my main priority.
I’m hopeful that one day, a cure for paralysis will be found, and as a family, we do our best to help raise funds and awareness for spinal injury research.
There is one certainty, though: there is no way my grandchildren will be playing rugby league.
