The endocrinologist who monitors Benjamin's thyroid has become dear to me. We began going to him twenty years ago, and he has been unfailingly kind no matter how much or little Ben interacts with him on a given day. He makes notes in Ben's chart about his latest interest, be it factoring, or Disney movies, or this year, his jokes. He had a math puzzle ready for Ben. Let me see if I paid close enough attention. 

 

I named a one digit number and put it in my calculator. Then Ben chose one, and I tapped it in. Dr. Alter added a third, creating a three digit number. Finally he invited me to multiply it by any random six digit number which he had no opinion about. 

 

I read aloud the digits on the screen, all except one, in any order. The only rule was that the number I left out could not be a zero. 

 

Then the doctor told me the missing number. I was impressed. 

 

This was all a subplot of why we were actually in his office, mind you. The purpose was to take stats, and keep track of Benjamin's growth in the absence of a viable thyroid. But this doctor took the time to be personable. 

 

Before Benjamin was born I had no first hand knowledge of thyroids. Growth showed up, as in flood pants and pinchy shoes. Yet I had no appreciation for the methodology of a ten pound baby morphing into a thirty pound toddler. 

 

I have still never laid eyes on the organ in question, though images on the internet are suggestive of a butterfly. The hormones that invisibly travel the length of the human body orchestrate this mysterious response inadequately described as growth. When I want to increase the size of a quilt I slap on a wide border or two. But a child expands from within. 

 

It is my belief that changes continue to happen long after puberty. The events of the past few years have been the occasion for both expansion and shrinking. God seems adept at utilizing both our heartbreaks and our triumphs as a means for alchemy. Even a string of random events contribute to my Doctor's ongoing care.