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 dwarf...