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listened, and she kept saying “beep”—trying to remain the parent in control while receiving the most devastating news of her life.
    She was very confused. If I was on a respirator, that meant I was practically dead but they were just keeping me breathing. She knew nothing about broken necks. She didn’t understand how it all fit together. She said, “I have to call my father.” She needed a translation.
    Amazingly, Chuck Morosini was at home that holiday weekend. Dana told him, “Chris has had a serious riding accident. It’s a neck injury.” Her father said, “Oh God.” That was enough. She knew immediately that my life was hanging in the balance. The people at Culpeper said that Dana should see me before the helicopter took off, because it might be for the last time.
    Dana had to collect Will, try not to frighten him with what was happening, and check out of the motel. How she got through that afternoon, I have no idea.
    She also had to cope with the public. She knew the media would be all over the story, but she didn’t want to deal with anybody outside the family. She knew she had to protect Will and to protect me. Her reaction was, “Everybody out, this is a crisis.” The only way to deal with it was to form a tight circle.
    As Dana packed up my belongings, she was acutely conscious that I might never need them again. She collected my shaving things, my socks, and the rest of my clothes. She came across my map of the cross-country course, which I had been studying just a couple of hours before. But she remained composed, putting everything in the suitcase, looking under the bed, in the drawers, finding keys, going through all the ordinary motions of checking out of a motel.
    Will wanted to play soccer. He was clearly searching for some normality now that everything had gone haywire. Dana actually went out and kicked the ball with him a couple of times, then came back in and continued packing. “Mommy has to finish packing. We have to go. They’re taking Daddy in the helicopter. We have to go.”
    Then they went to the front desk to check out. Earlier that day someone had come by and said, “The manager would like to have dinner with you and your husband tonight, and we have babysitters.” As she turned in our keys, Dana said, “Could you please tell the manager that we won’t be able to have dinner tonight, and thank him very much?” The woman asked, “Where’s your husband?” And Dana said, “He had to leave.” “Oh,” said the woman, “I really wanted a picture. Can I have a picture of you?” So Dana posed. She sat there with Will and posed for a picture because she just didn’t want to explain.
    Then she and Will drove to the University of Virginia, as I was being flown there in a helicopter named for a flying horse.

Chapter 2
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    When Dana arrived at UVA, she still had no idea what to expect. In the ER, Dr. Nadkarni, who told her to call him Mo, came in, sat down, and said, “I have some bad news.” She’d already had so much bad news. She didn’t know whether the next thing would be: “Your husband didn’t survive the helicopter trip” or “He’s brain damaged beyond repair.”
    He repeated much of what she had heard at Culpeper: I couldn’t breathe on my own, I was intubated and on a respirator. But he was the first one who said, “There’s a chance he may never breathe on his own.” Dana said it was like being slammed into a wall. Her whole body and head involuntarily turned to one side, as if she had been struck.
    Will was picking all of this up. For a good two weeks afterwards, he would ask Dana repeatedly, “Why did Mo have bad news?” And she would have to tell him over and over that I had fallen off Buck, my neck was badly injured, and that this meant I couldn’t move my body. Hearing this over and over again