Temperature.

Heart rate.

Medication times.

Meal intake.

Lab results.

I filled pages of a small notebook because writing things down gave me the illusion that I was doing something useful.

Then something stranger than her illness happened.

Her classmates started coming.

The same students who had spent two years making school miserable suddenly appeared carrying balloons, frosted cupcakes, class notes, nail polish, flowers, magazines, and one enormous stuffed bear that looked like it had been stolen from a carnival.

They laughed with her.

They knew her favorite snacks.

They knew which teacher she secretly imitated.

They knew she hated raisins.

They knew she always traded away blueberry muffins at lunch.