I'd been unhappy that I hadn't been granted participation in the operation, and instead been tasked with contacting the family of a 73-year-old woman who'd fallen from the third floor of her apartment building. It wasn't that I was unhappy at the woman, I didn't know the woman, but I'd wanted, at that point, more than anything to do something… something more crucial, and manning the telephones just hadn't seemed all that crucial.

It wasn't until I'd spent some time contacting the members of the elderly woman's family, and her sons had relayed to me their unwillingness to visit her, that I had realised something: what I was doing was important, the old woman needed to know that her family cared if she was going to be strong enough to recover.

I was outraged. I made more calls; I'd decided that I wouldn't give up, not until I'd done the best that I could, and believed that I had. Eventually, I got through to the old woman's niece. She thanked me for having contacted her and assured me that she would be visiting her aunt in hospital.

If I had thought about it beforehand, before I'd been asked to call around asking after the old woman's family members, I wouldn't have been able to imagine the sense of satisfaction that the niece's words had given me, the sense of happiness that there would finally be someone there for the old woman. I had done a good job – I hadn't been able to change her sons' minds, but I'd found one person willing to visit her – I felt like I was finally allowed to feel good, about myself, and about the job. It wasn't all without its rewards and happy moments, its triumphs – and the small triumphs were as important as the big ones!


Disclaimer I don't own Code Blue or any of its characters.