If his fellow officers had not rushed him to a waiting ambulance, he would have died.

If he had been taken to a community hospital instead of a trauma center, he would have died.

If he had been shot in the abdomen before, he would have died.

Within minutes, Youmans, 32, went from being a rookie Durham police officer to a patient bleeding to death on the emergency room table.

Youmans' injuries were so severe that his father packed his black suit for the trip from New York City.

Surgeon Gregory S. Georgiade, who led the team that saved Youmans' life, said his father would have needed that suit had it not been for several factors that came together.

"It was not his night to die," he said.

Routine call

Youmans and his training officer, Cpl. B.D. Schnee, were heading to the jail when, over the police radio, an officer said he heard shots in the Shannon Road area.

It was 4 a.m.

Inside an apartment on Shannon Road, Cynthia Bridges, 47, was preparing for work when she heard the first shots. She dropped to the floor and called 911. Her sons, ages 23 and 24, 29-year-old daughter and 4-year-old granddaughter were asleep. They soon were dodging bullets as well.

More shots were heard on a 911 recording as Bridges pleaded with emergency dispatchers for help. It sounded like machine gun fire, she later said.

Bridges and her family scrambled for cover as Youmans and Schnee headed to the area.

All was quiet when they arrived.

Youmans got out of the patrol vehicle and walked to the apartment's windowless steel front door. He knocked. A pop was heard, right before a bullet came through the door. It hit Youmans right under his belly button, just below his bulletproof vest.

"I knew something was wrong," he said. "It wasn't instant pain, but it was instant burning."

He stumbled back to the police car. His left leg gave out. He fell to the ground.

Youmans' fellow officers removed him from the scene. Stay calm, don't panic, he thought.

He didn't think about dying, confident that doctors would save him.

"I guess believing that helped play a part in me being here," he said.

Trauma alert

Trauma surgeons at Duke University Hospital work 24-hour shifts.

Georgiade's pager went off just after 4 a.m. It was a trauma alert 1 - a gunshot wound to the head, chest or stomach.

"His belly was filling up with blood in front of our eyes," the surgeon said.

Youmans' heart was pushing itself to pump the little blood he had left. Cardiac arrest would have been certain. He was bleeding to death.

The bullet had ripped through two sections of Youmans' small intestine and damaged the major veins that run between his pelvis and legs before the pelvic bones stopped it. It's still there.

Youmans had made it to the hospital within the "golden hour," the time that patients in his situation need medical treatment to increase their chances of survival.

He felt everything, from the needles to the cold metal board placed under his back while doctors made quick x-rays. He managed a thumbs up to officers as he was being wheeled to the operating room. He was out of the emergency room within 10 minutes.

When Georgiade opened Youmans up, the bullet's damage became evident.

"His abdomen was growing in size in front of our eyes," he said. "His abdomen was tight so when you open it up the blood runs out. It's a very visual experience. Then you have to figure out what's bleeding the worst."

The biggest problem was the damage to the veins running from his pelvis to his legs. Then the vessels that supply blood to the small intestine had to be fixed. The small intestine was next.

The surgery team - three doctors, three nurses, about four anesthesia providers and two runners who retrieved blood and lab work - used about 60 units of blood on Youmans. A human normally has 10 units.

"If I lingered in the ER, he would be dead," the surgeon said. "If I didn't have the necessary help or the multi-disciplinary team itself, or the instruments it takes to stop the bleeding, he'd be dead."

"All those pieces have to be [there]. ... You have to have the A team to make this happen. You can't use the B team or C team."

Surgery lasted about three hours. A second surgery the next day repaired the bullet's damage to the intestine and put them back together. Youmans will have permanent slight swelling to his left leg - the one that gave out right after he was shot - due to the vein damage.

Another similar injury may prove fatal.

"We see some repeat offenders in the gang business," the doctor said. "If he had been shot before, he'd be dead. I would never have been able to get it open and fixed in time."

New appreciation

The warm early afternoon three weeks ago matched Youmans' mood. It was the first time he sported his badge and gun since being shot.

Earlier that day he had attended a bond hearing for Thomas Rashawn Monroe, 23, who lives in the apartment where the bullets were fired. Monroe's family says someone fired several shots into the home before police arrived and that Monroe was shooting in self-defense because he thought the shooters might be at the door.

"I figured I'd wake up the next day," Youmans said. "But it was two days. And I was thinking to myself it was the next day and my family was there. And things were blurry, I guess because of the medicine. I was looking at the board and was like it's July 4. ... Everybody was telling me that I had two surgeries and I was like what?"

Hundreds flocked to Youmans. Current and former co-workers. Family. Friends. A group of retired New York City cops who live in Raleigh (Youmans was a New York City officer for five years). He was thankful for the love, but it tired him out. He was discharged from Duke Hospital on July 17.

His home routine was simple. Walk. Sleep. Walk. Sleep. He slowly regained his appetite. He started physical therapy about a week later.

Getting out of bed used to be painful. He only has slight pelvis pain now, along with a will to live and a greater appreciation for life and others.

"It's a situation where you take and learn from it, and it will probably change the way I do things," he said. "Appreciate the danger of the job and what could happen. And how I look at people. People all over the place were supportive. A lot of people really do care and appreciate the job that we do. That for me was definitely a big change."