“He was furious about 9/11,” J.T. Doody’s mother recalled about her son’s deployment, “There was no talking him out of it.”

On February 3, 2007, J.T. deployed to Iraq. Over the next three months, he completed combat missions across Fallujah, writing letters back home to his mother to keep her updated all along the way.

On March 7th of that year, J.T. turned 24 years old. Beaming with pride, he called home to let his mother know that he’d been awarded a Combat Action Ribbon.

On March 9, 2007, just two days after his birthday, J.T. and his fellow Marines found themselves engaged in a vicious gun battle. A sniper caught J.T. in his crosshairs. He was shot multiple times, first in the right thigh, then his calf, then his shin. The final bullet traveled up his leg and tore through flesh and nerves. The bullet hole was the size of a man’s fist.

Miraculously, J.T. survived. And over time, his body and mind began to heal from his brush with death. He even began the next chapter of his life by entering law school.

But the worst was yet to come.

Unbeknownst to J.T. or his doctors, a bacterial infection was growing around the lining of J.T.'s heart. Less than a year after returning home, a mass of bacteria broke loose, traveled to his brain, and triggered a series of strokes that caused him to slip into a coma.

His mother recalled seeing J.T.’s x-rays, “It just looked like somebody salt-and-peppered his brain.” The results left J.T. with severe brain injuries, quadriplegia, and cognitive blindness.

J.T.’s whole body was swollen and his organs were failing. “I didn’t recognize him,” his mother told us recalling that dark time. He was on full life support. The doctors told his family he would never wake up. But his mother refused to give up. “I knew my son was still in there.”

Over the next three weeks, J.T.’s mother remained by his side. Day in and day out. Night after night.

She spoke to him constantly, hoping for any reaction at all. “One day, I asked him if he wanted to watch a TV show and suddenly, he said ‘No.’”

The entire unit came running. Everyone was in tears.

Later that night, J.T. spoke again. “He told me I was going to have a messed up son,” his mother recalled. “I told him I didn’t care.”

The road to recovery has been long and brutal. As J.T.’s full-time caregiver, his mother tries her best to give him a normal life. Over fifteen years in, they still travel, go out to eat, and host football parties every Sunday. But she is deeply worried about his future.

“The hardest part of our lives is that I literally have to do everything for another human being. He can’t feed himself, turn on his light, or even his TV.”

Reflecting on the future, she can’t help but see dark clouds on the horizon. “Although I am in good shape, I am only going to continue to age while J.T. will still need to be cared for.”