By Captain Nikki Gruver
It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in early spring. The weather was mild in northeastern Pennsylvania. People were finally putting winter behind them and preparing for warmer days.
The quiet was then interrupted by the pager. The dispatcher’s voice came through clearly: “Ambulance 14-9, respond for a child choking.”
| READ MORE: When we lose our ‘why,’ it’s typically because we’ve lost connection to our roots
As I headed out the door, my mind raced through the limited EMT experience I had, trying to anticipate everything that could go wrong.
I pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the gated resort community where the patient was located. The drive was only about a quarter mile from my house to the guard shack, but it felt much longer. I was nervous, mentally reviewing everything I had learned in that hospital basement EMT class three years earlier.
When I pulled up to the security window and asked which street I was responding to, the guard replied, “She’s in here.”
A child goes silent
Pulling into the parking space, I realized there was no more time to think. I entered the building and introduced myself to a frantic father.
“Hi, my name is Nik. I’m an EMT with the local fire company. What’s going on today?”
The man stood there holding his 2-year-old daughter, who did not appear to be in distress.
“I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “I was cleaning the living room and getting ready to head back to New York when I heard a strange noise. She was crawling around, and I think she’s choking on money.”
As I began working through my assessment and asking the standard SAMPLE questions, the child suddenly went silent. The coin was still lodged in her airway and had apparently shifted sideways.
Without thought, I picked up the tiny patient and turned her so she was facing away from me. Five back blows between the shoulder blades.
A cough.
A cry.
And a relieved breath from me.
Then silence again.
I took two steps into a nearby bathroom and leaned the toddler over the sink.
Five more back blows.
Another cry.
More silence.
I started again.
One. Come on, kiddo.
Two. Please don’t do this.
Three. Clang.
Then a cry.
I looked into the sink and saw a penny staring back at me from the white porcelain basin.
I handed the little girl back to her father and gently rubbed her shoulders where I had delivered the blows.
A handshake.
A thank you.
And then, finally, I saw the ambulance crest the hill. I briefed the crew on what had happened and transferred care. As I walked back to my truck, the adrenaline finally hit. I was suddenly exhausted, relieved, anxious and grateful, not to mention still expected to continue with the rest of my day.
‘Did you keep the penny?’
I returned home and began getting ready for my shift on a paid ALS ambulance in the City of Scranton. Then the phone rang. It was my cousin, who belonged to the same fire company.
“Hey, how are you?” he asked.
“I’m good. Just getting ready for shift.”
Then he asked a simple question that struck me as odd at the time: “So, did you keep the penny?”
At first, I laughed. It seemed like an odd question after everything that had just happened.
Years later, I realized it wasn’t about the coin at all. It was about remembering the moment — a moment central to why I chose this profession. That penny became a reminder that every call, every patient and every life touched carries the potential to shape who we become as firefighters, paramedics and leaders.
Why origin stories matter
We all have “whys” in our lives: Why do we eat what we eat? Why do we drive what we drive? Why did we marry the person we married?
One question we should ask ourselves more often: Why do we do what we do?
At a time when fire departments are experiencing unprecedented staffing shortages, increasing EMS demand, recruitment challenges and rising levels of burnout, reconnecting firefighters with their purpose may be one of the most important leadership responsibilities we have. Too often, we find ourselves surrounded by negativity, cynicism and frustration. That is precisely why we need to remind ourselves, and each other, of our origin stories.
When firefighters and EMS professionals share the moments that inspired them to serve, they find common ground. Lessons are remembered. Meaningful memories resurface. Those conversations recharge our batteries and reconnect us with the passion that drove us to work so hard to get where we are today.
It is important to know the stories of the people we work alongside. We spend nearly a third of our lives with our coworkers. We often refer to them as family. If we truly believe that, then we should treat them accordingly.
Additionally, as the officer on my shift, I am responsible for scheduling training, verifying payroll inputs and ensuring everyone completes required continuing education. I am also responsible for setting the tone for the day. If I complain about running the same facility over and over again or become frustrated because an apparatus must be switched out for maintenance, that attitude spreads. Leadership is contagious, but so is negativity.
Every day presents an opportunity to influence organizational culture. Leadership is not limited to rank. Senior firefighters mentor probationary members, instructors shape recruits at the academy, and experienced personnel work overtime with unfamiliar crews — all opportunities to reinforce professionalism and purpose. Every interaction either strengthens or weakens the culture we are trying to build. We all need those reminders from time to time.
Remembering why I’m here
After every long, sleepless shift, I get into my truck and see a penny hanging from my rearview mirror. It reminds me of that helpless little girl. The little girl who inspired me to become a paramedic. The little girl who reinforced the importance of competence, confidence and preparation during someone’s worst moment. The little girl who reminds me to give my best to every patient I encounter.
When I see that penny, I remember why I am here. I remember why I do what I do.
As company officers, our responsibility extends far beyond tactical proficiency. We are the stewards of our crews’ culture, attitude and purpose. Every shift presents an opportunity to remind someone why they chose this profession. Never underestimate the impact of helping a firefighter or paramedic remember their “why.” And when the demands of this profession make you question your purpose, remind yourself to remember your why.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nikki Gruver is a captain with the Fairfax County Fire and Rescue Department in Virginia. He began his emergency services career in 2001 as a volunteer in northeast Pennsylvania, became an EMT in 2005, and earned his paramedic credentials from Lackawanna College in 2010. Gruver joined Fairfax County Fire and Rescue in 2012. He served as an instructor in the department’s fire and rescue academy before being promoted to lieutenant in 2021 and captain in 2025. He is currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in fire administration from Columbia Southern University.
