It was Labor Day weekend of 2021 when my dream of playing college hockey was finally within my grasp. Coming off a year of COVID in which my Milton Academy hockey team only played a handful games and being forced to drive over 60,000 miles by commuting to school and playing for the South Shore Kings Midget Team I was beyond excited to start my senior of hockey with the Boston Bulldogs in the Labor Day Tournament.  That Tuesday I was moving back to Milton Academy which is a place I worked so hard to get to. That summer I visited several colleges where I met with coaches and toured campuses. It was all coming together. At that moment life couldn’t have been better. Little did I know that in a matter of seconds all that would change.

On September 4th my dad and I ventured out early in the morning for the two games I had. The first game was uneventful other than it really got the attention of a good friend who happened to be a college coach. After a great talk with the coach we headed to the next game in Hopedale.  We grabbed lunch and as we always did, my dad and I played catch with a football in the parking lot. I met with my teammates, stretched and heading into the rink to get ready. I was so pumped to really show how much better I had gotten after a summer of skating lessons, intense workouts and games in the prep summer league. I jumped on the ice and saw my dad standing at the glass with a teammates father. The irony is we were playing the South Shore Kings who was the team I played for the season before.  I was friends with some of the kids on the other team.  My first shift I came across the dots and put a one time in for my teams first goal. Let’s GO!! We were all hyped. That would be my last full hockey shift. On the next shift I was carrying the puck down the right side past the benches. I have been told that I passed the puck to my teammate rushing the net but I honestly don’t remember. After I passed the puck I was checked into the boards as my body twisted causing the back of my head to make first contact followed by my back. I was rushed to Umass Medical Center in Worcester, MA where I underwent a six hour surgery to implant two metal rods and a host of screws into my back. The result was a fracture of my T7 and T8 vertebrae and a small brain bleed. I would spend the next 6 days in the ICU. I was paralyzed from the chest down, no feeling and no movement. 

After the ICU it was off to Spaulding Rehabilitation in Charlestown, MA. Thank you to my mom and dad for deciding to bring me there. They had looked at other places outside of New England but after visiting Spaulding my parents were confident that it was the best place for me. So on September 10th I was transferred to Spaulding where I would remain for two month inpatient and two and a half months outpatient. While at UMass my parents and brother did not leave my side. My parents slept in the room and didn’t leave for anything. That was not an option at Spaulding. The first night there they had to leave at 8:00. It was the hardest night of my life. Alone, paralyzed and uncertain on what my future would look like. I had never been so scared. Thankfully my parents stayed in Charlestown for my entire time at Spaudling so they were there everyday from 9am to 9pm. Nearly every evening I had visits from friends, family and supporters. Family and friends are what got me through my time there. 

I’ll never forget my first morning at Spaulding. I had to be hoyered out of my bed and placed into a power wheelchair. I didn’t have the core strength to even sit up on my own.  I am proud of the work I put into getting stronger for hockey so imagine my surprise when I could barely lift 3 lb dumbbells. I had been benching 80 pound dumbbells just a week ago!! Basically I was at ground zero with an injury that has no definite attached to it other than I’m going to have to work harder than ever to beat this. After a few days at Spaulding I realized I can dwell on all that I lost, retreat into a shell of feeling sorry for myself or I can fight…fight with all that I have to beat this. I chose the latter, it was time to dig deep and fight like hell to beat this. Well I’m still fighting and although still not where I want to be I am slowly making progress. My mentor and friend Tom Smith told me that recovery is a marathon, not a sprint and he could not have been more right. That is why my motto for life is “NO QUIT!” My journey won’t be done until I’m standing eye to eye thanking all of you who have helped me.

Check out Jake's progress over the past year HERE