Modest Recognition

So I was standing in line at the vet's office the other day. I was in my uniform since I'd just gotten off shift and was getting some prednisone for Boomer. Dr. Goza's office is always packed with people and pets; he's a great doc and very reasonably priced.

As I'm waiting, one of the vet techs walks out from an exam room, looks up from his paperwork and sees me: "hey, you saved my daughters life!"

My first reaction was to look around for who he was talking to. I know I had that are you talking to me? "I'm sorry?" was the only thing I could say. Usually, I can remember the 'we saved a life' calls.

"Yeah, it was during the snow storm this winter." He was all smiles as he was talking to me. I felt awkward because I didn't have clue what he was talking about and now I was holding up the line.

"I'm sorry, but are you sure it was me?" I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to be taking someone else's credit, either.

"Yeah," he went on. "Remember, you gave her an epinephrine shot after she had some peanuts. You saved her."

"Oh yeah! I remember now." And I did. We had been dispatched for an allergic reaction on top of one of the hills in town. I was concerned about making it to the scene since the roads were still snow covered and we'd already had a few instances of slipping and sliding.

But we pulled up to the house without incident, grabbed our kits, and headed up the front steps. Dad met us at the door, his little 18 month old in his arms. She was crying quietly, swollen in her faces, arms, and legs--all over really. It wasn't a matter of hives per se, but swelling all over. She looked miserable, but still awake and afraid of me, so I heaved a sigh of relief.

Dad told us he'd fed her some peanut butter, no big deal since she'd had it before, but she quickly developed a reaction. He had given her benadryl before calling 911, but she hadn't gotten much better in the last 45-minutes. He said he would have taken her to the ER himself, but he had a 3 year old to look after also.

I sat dad and baby down and took a quick listen to her lungs. They were tight and wheezy, so I had my partner get the epi ready while I talked to dad. A quick shot in the rump and we were ready to go. Dad sat in back with me with his other little girl in the airway seat. And within a minute or so of leaving the scene, baby was crying her little head off and sounding much better than when we first walked through the door.

***

I stuck out my hand for the vet tech, "how's she doing?"

"She's great--no more peanut butter for her, though."

We chatted for a few moments more. "I just wanted to say thank you. You guys do such great work."

"You're welcome." It was the most modest thing I could think to say. I front of an office full of people, I felt pretty humble and didn't want to ruin it by saying something non-challant like, "just doing my job, sir."

One of my EMT instructor used to tell us that if we were in teh job for the pay or the recognition, then we should best look somewhere else. I have to say though, it's nice when the recognition happens.