Greek Life

William G. Bentrim once said, “Physical size cannot measure the ferocity and compassion of the heart, spirit and soul. Truly in the measure of a person, short or tall doesn’t matter at all.” 

When my sister was just eight years old, she underwent her first of thirteen surgeries, three of which were emergency. As a senior in high school, she had her last one and grew a whole foot.

At the time, I was only six. I wasn’t sure of what was going on. I remember having sleepovers at my grandmas and family trips to the hospital. I remember the first time I visited her. My entire family squeezed into her single room that had a view of the East River. Balloons and gifts filled whatever space wasn’t occupied by people.

I was standing at the foot of her bed and peeked under the blanket. All I saw was pins sticking into her legs. The sight made me uneasy, but for some reason I couldn’t look away. That was the only thing I could focus on.

My sister has achondroplasia, a form of dwarfism. Her torso is average-sized, but her arms and legs couldn’t grow to their full extent on their own. She underwent limb-lengthening surgeries which allowed her to grow. During the surgery, the doctor would break the bone and place a bar in the center. On the exterior were pins that were held together by big black bars. Every night, my mom would rotate the pins which allowed for the bar inside the limb to extend allowing for the bone to grow.

These surgeries not only helped her grow physically, but they helped my family grow mentally and emotionally. For me, I had to deal with growing up quicker than most six year olds. I was beginning to mature faster than most kids my age. I had to learn how to manage my time between school, sports, and helping my sister.  It was hard for me. Being the youngest, one would expect to get attention or spoiled a little more than the rest, but I had to deal with being put behind my sister. I won’t lie. I began to get jealous of all the attention, toys, and gifts she was getting, but I was blind as to why she was getting them. I didn’t realize they were to offer her comfortable in the most uncomfortable times of her life.

I never realized the amount of pain she was in until I went to physical therapy with her. I remember sitting in the room and watching her scream and cry. It was hard to watch. Why would anyone keep making her do this if they saw how much she was hurting?

My oldest sister had to deal with looking out for me when she was in the hospital. She had to help me with homework and make sure I was ready for school. She had to take on the responsibility of watching over me when we weren’t with our grandparents. It was a lot for her only being four years my elder dealing with school and watching out for a young child.

My parents just wanted what was best for their children. They wanted them to feel comfortable and happy with who they were. They supported my sister completely throughout the whole process. They would take multiple trips into the city each year to meet with her doctor and sometimes travel to different states like Maryland to visit other doctors. They were the ones to take her to physical therapy every other day or carry her around when places didn’t have a ramp for her wheelchair.

Each surgery cost $15,000 for the surgeon and $10,000 a day for the hospital. She would stay on average seven days in the hospital each surgery. Luckily, insurance covered about 80% on each surgery. If they ever fought about or had issues about money, they wouldn’t let us know. They didn’t want to have us worry or have my sister feel as though she was putting a burden on our family.

As the years and surgeries went on, the pain only got worse. She was able to feel it more. After each surgery, she had to reteach herself how to use those parts of her body again. It’s weird to think that even though I wasn’t even born for her actual first steps, I was able to watch her retake her first steps multiple times after.

As for my relationship with my sister, I see as just another bump in the road. It was something I became used to. I treat her like I would treat anyone else. I felt like it was my job as her sister to make her feel as normal as possible. We have the same relationship as everyone else who has a sibling. We’ll want to kill each other one minute, and we’ll laughing about something else the next. She knows that I am always there to defend her and protect her no matter the issue, and I know she’ll do the same for me.

She never looks at her condition as neither a disability nor setback. Instead she is using it to her advantage. She wants to become a fashion designer and create a brand that focuses around people just like her. She knows the difficulty of having to buy clothes that never fit and always having to get them tailored. She wants to make clothes that are accustomed to people who don’t have the same height or body shape as the average person. Her goal is for everyone to be able to be a part of the trends in the fashion industry no matter the case.

Throughout this whole process, she became my inspiration. Whenever I lose hope and feel as though I can’t do anything, I look to her and realize I can get through it. I have never met anyone stronger or more brave than her. She will put everyone first and is always happy. Whenever I ask her about different adventures and risks she wants to take, she always responds with “I figure life’s a gift, and I don’t intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you’re gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you, to make each day count,” a quote from her favorite movie The Titanic.