FEBRUARY 2022 45was fashioned that he could thread between his fingers,
and he slowly regained a vital measure of independence.
Typically, the treatment of a spinal cord patient like
Bradley will cost between $300,000 and $1 million in
the first year, and roughly $5 million over a lifetime. He
is fortunate to have the means to cover those staggering
costs, having earned $69.5 million in his career. And his
NBA health insurance policy allowed him four months of
inpatient treatment, roughly double the usual stay.
In those long weeks he missed riding his motorcycle,
taking his boat out on Sand Hollow Reservoir, wrestling
with his kids, wrapping his arms around Carrie from
behind and giving her a gentle squeeze. And as the days
wore on, measured by the changing holiday decorations at
the hospital, the sum of these modest losses grew profound.
“All those little things mean the world to me,” Bradley says.
When Lamoreaux bathed him in the hospital, the two
discussed how Bradley’s relationship with Carrie was
bound to change, how he would have to grow comfortable
with caregivers undertaking intimate tasks, how his inter-
actions with every person, every institution, every object
would be forever altered. “His body and his skills have
been his identity,” Lamoreaux says. “And he’s constantly
faced with that part of his identity being gone. Navigating
through that was really difficult for him.”
A visit last spring from two old friends helped him
reconnect, however brief ly, with his old self. In April,
after Bradley and Carrie worked with the Mavs to putout a statement announcing the accident to the world,
Nowitzki (now a special adviser for Dallas) and team owner
Mark Cuban f lew to Bradley’s home in Utah, and Shawn
wedged into a minivan to travel home, where he met with
his old friends. Dirk and Dubbie, who plays junior college
soccer, dribbled a ball on the slate tile in Bradley’s living
room, and eventually the three old Mavs spent an hour
reminiscing. Even after so much time apart, Bradley says
he felt their genuine concern and affection.
Once they left, though, Bradley confronted unfamiliar
emotions that plague him to this day—the same feelings
that would surface in the luxury box visit with Finley.
He had spent months, along with his family, adjusting
to his new identity, but he had not yet watched anyone
else close to him digest it in real time. Pandemic-related
lockdowns at the hospital had enabled the Bradleys to
keep Shawn’s condition a secret, buying them time todepth of his torso and stationed a padded table at the end
of his bed, which his feet hung over. They patiently awaited
the design and construction of a custom electric wheelchair
and in the meantime duct-taped padding and a board to
the largest chair they had to create a makeshift headrest.
The most significant improvements for spinal cord
patients typically take place in the first six months, and
Bradley made strides in that time. Initially, he couldn’t
feed himself or sip water or grasp his phone or brush his
teeth. Then, late one night, irritable and unmotivated, he
demanded McDonald’s. Carrie obliged and dropped the
food on his stomach, hoping the lure of warm french fries
might motivate him. “How much do you want it?” she
asked, challenging her husband as if she were one of his
old coaches. Gradua l ly, pa inf u l ly, Brad ley e x tended his
arms toward the fries, wedged a few between his hands
and took his first unassisted bite in weeks. Soon, a fork
CARRIE DROPPED THE MCDONALD’S ON HIS STOMACH,
HOPING THE LURE OF WARM FRENCH FRIES MIGHT MOTIVATE HIM.“HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT IT?”
SHE ASKED, AS IF SHE WERE ONE OF HIS OLD COACHES.