Word count: 300 words.

Dr. Debbie has achondroplasia, which means that she is a dwarf.

She is also a pediatrician, which means that she is a doctor for children.

It helps that she is small in size when she sticks a needle into the poor kids, because a.) her size being more or less same as theirs lends a whole lot of trust to the clinical visits; and/or b.) they're puzzled at how a fellow "kid" became a doctor this young.

But Debbie doesn't get a lot of patients. What parent would send their child to be inspected by a dwarf?

Because although Debbie sees herself as a doctor first and a dwarf second, most people see her as only the latter. "Dwarf Doctor," they call her behind her back.

Jesus weeps: creativity is dead.

She knows what they call her. She's used to it. Not that she doesn't mind it — it never does stop hurting, regardless of what her friends tell her about ignorance being strength.

She has several other monikers, too: 'Small 'Un', is one she actually kind of likes. 'Hobble Doc' is another, which references the way she walks.

In fact, when she won an accolade for some thingamajig in her final year of med school, the announcer called her on stage by referring to her as "our little friend."

Debbie has overcome a lot to become a doctor. She thinks it's a noble profession, and this is generally agreed upon.

However, when she is writing medicine down for a restless kid who's caught the flu and the kid asks her — "If you're a doctor, why don't you correct your height?" — Debbie finds she has no answer.

She hides her tears behind her smile. One ear listens to the "Dwarf Doctor couldn't reach the drugs shelf" whispers, the other spits them out.

More of an idea than a story. Thoughts?