Amy hated having her kids see her like this. She was still completely immobilized and restrained, unable to move anything but her hands, unable to look anywhere but straight ahead or in this case, since she was flat on her back, straight up. Her clothes had been cut away and replaced with a blue hospital gown, and her bare feet had been covered with something fluffy and warm.

Fluffy and warm. Both were good sensations after a neck injury, she told herself.

Pain was not such a good sensation. It came in waves that the high dosages of Dilaudid just couldn't touch, but she refused to let them give her anything stronger. The nurse part of her brain realized that there were decisions that were going to have to be made in the upcoming hours, and she didn't want Bob to face them alone. The wife part of her brain understood that Bob was not good at decision-making when someone he loved was hurt. The mother part of her brain knew that she and her children needed to see each other one more time. Just in case.

The woman part of her brain was still reeling from being lifted and moved and well, manhandled all evening. When Fran was cutting away her clothes, Amy had assured her that modesty really wasn't an issue. After all, she reasoned, she had given birth four times; what part of her body hadn't been touched and seen by a roomful of medical professionals before?

But this was different. Amy felt small and vulnerable and definitely not in control of the situation.

If there was one thing that Amy Duncan needed, it was to be in control of any situation.

So she argued with Bob about allowing the kids to see her like this, and about letting them hear what the doctor was about to tell her after looking at the X-rays and CT scans. She called him names and shouted at him and even cried, but Bob could be as stubborn and determined as his feisty little wife when the situation called for it. And when the lives of his wife and son were at stake, the situation definitely called for it.

"PJ is an adult, Honey," he reminded her gently. "He's eighteen. He deserves to understand what's going on. And you can't make Teddy stay behind if PJ comes along. Have faith in your kids."

PJ's blue eyes were filled with unshed tears when he leaned over to kiss her cheek. He looked pale and scared, but his lips were pressed together with a kind of determination she had rarely seen in her firstborn. He seemed to have aged since that morning. His voice didn't even tremble when he said "Gabe said to tell you he loves you, Mom."

Teddy was also fighting for control. She kissed Amy's cheek as well, and forced a smile."Always the drama queen, right, Mom?" She said.

Amy smiled back. She took a deep breath. "Okay," she announced. "Go ahead, Dr. Wilmont. Give it to us straight."

Carl Wilmont was one of the best neurosurgeons in the area, not only because of his skills in the operating room but also because he knew how to talk to his patients and their families. He had a way of explaining things in a way that non-medical people could understand without making them feel stupid. Amy was relieved to know that he would be taking care of her and her family.

"When we talk about the spine, we divide it into three areas," Dr. Wilmont began. "There's the Cranial, Thoracic and Lumbar, and we use the letters C, T and L to talk about them. So if I say C-7, that means the seventh vertebra in the Cranial –or head—part of the spine.

"Amy's neck is broken at C-7 and T-1, or what we refer to as the CranioThoracic Junction."

"Her neck is broken." Bob stated. Amy could feel his hand holding hers, but couldn't see him. He sounded so bleak that she squeezed his hand to comfort him, even though it was her neck—her future- they were discussing.

"Yes."

"But –but I thought people got paralyzed when they broke their necks," PJ stammered.

"Not always," the surgeon told him. "In cases where the spinal cord is damaged, or when the injury is higher in the cranial region, paralysis almost always occurs. In this case, however, I have good reason to believe that her spinal cord wasn't badly damaged, which is good news. She's got full sensation in her feet and legs."

"What about my left hand?" Amy asked. "Why are my two outer fingers numb?" She thought she knew the answer, but wanted her family to understand.

"It's hard to know for sure just yet, but it is most likely related to nerve damage. I'll know more after your surgery."

"What, exactly, are you going to do?" Teddy asked.

"I'm going to put in a metal plate and fuse the spine at the point of injury," Dr. Wilmont explained. "If all goes well, your mom could make a full recovery in three to six months."

"And what if all doesn't go well?" Bob asked.

"There are possible complications, of course. There are certain risks associated with any surgery, and working with the spine is never a simple procedure."

"What are the complications?" Bob wanted to know.

"The spine is a very delicate area, Mr. Duncan. Paralysis is the highest risk."

"What about. . . " the big man cleared his throat and tried again, but just couldn't say it.

Amy squeezed his hand again."Doctor, my husband wants to know if there's a chance I could die during the surgery."

"Yes, that is a possibility. This is a very risky surgery. But it's also necessary. Without this surgery, Mr. Duncan, Amy cannot survive more than a few days."

*GLC*

"Why are you here?" Gabe demanded.

Spencer blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're not my family. I want my mom."

"Gabe, your mom is -"

"Shut up! Where is she?" Gabe tried to sit up. Charlie, asleep on his shoulder, squawked in protest.

He gave her a startled glance and reached up to touch his little sister's hair. "Shhh, go back to sleep, Charlie. When did she get here?"

"She's been here for a while, Gabe. Don't you remember?"

". . . roses love sunshine, violets love dew. She's my baby sister, you know. She likes it when Mom sings about the violets."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat."Do you know where you are, Gabe?" He asked.

". . . know I love you, dear, know I love you. Angels in Heaven know I love you."

Spencer seized the call button. Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Thanks to Anita and Julie, the ER nurses who let me pick their brains for the medical "stuff". Also to the ER staff at South Haven Community Hospital, Bronson Methodist Hospital, and all of the guys: Dave, Brian, Todd, Mitch, JC, Jason, Rey and Cody.