I love piano. I am currently obsessed. I can't write much because I'm about to go have an evaluation by Dr Edgars, he's going to see if I can go home. I can't go home. But I wanted to let the internet know how much I love piano. It's like, if the world were turned upside down and everything fell out, and you were watching it from a comfy theatre seat, and all the numbers in the world were sitting beside you and 918 was on your left, and 323 was on your right, and everything was perfect, and calm and relaxing. That's what piano is like to me. I finished my number puzzles book. I'm kind of worried, becuase I don't know if Dad is going to be able to get a discount on one from work. I really hope he does. There'll be nothing for me to do besides blog if he can't. and I don't mean to offend anyone, but I much prefer working through the numbers. It's so much more satisfying than writing everything out and looking at the jumble of words, and seeing how what you wrote isn't really all that good, but it's what you wrote and you can't go back and change it now can you? Jenny's here. She looks angry at me for stalling. Wasting time. ONE SEC I'm telling her. I need to say one more thing. The red headed boy came again today. He read to me from Pride and Predjudice. I seriously am in love with him. He was wearing a hat today. A striped one. And jeans. and  tee shirt. it was gray. I love him.

I illegaly download music. I'm trying to be all holy and crap, (I also decided crap would not hurt God's ears) but I need good music, and becuase my family is so un-blessed in the money department, I need to find it somewhere. So I do. It's better than nothing. I think if I wrote a letter to God, he'd understand. But maybe i'm wrong. I don't know. I'm not personally aquainted with the big dude. But from what I've read, and what I've heard, I think so. I read some of the bible today. I asked Jenny if I could borrow hers, and she brought it back to me right away. I think she's been waiting a long time for me to get interested and excited about jesus. I read some of it, but it was long, and it seemed like the girls weren't treated very well. Maybe that's why Jenny let her husband run away. She thought he was a prophet. My hair is greasy, but I'm not allowed to take a shower, because I'm still in the middle of my oxygen therapy. I'm feeling really tired. sort of generally tired with the state of things. But I guess there's nothing I can do anymore. Sanjula came in today. i think she wanted to talk tp mom, but mom was having a small scene over in the corner. so Sanjula talked to Jenny instead for like three hours. sometimes she'd cry. there is too much crying going on. Sanjula didn't bring Kurt with her. Dad went to work and then came back to the hospital. he brought me naan and chana masala and aloo ghobi and tandoori chicken. Jenny said as long as i had a lot of water with it i could eat some. Sanjula ate. Mom ate, while she cried. Dad ate. I ate, while I smiled. I don't have any friends, besides Jenny, and the number puzzles book beside my bed, but in that moment, I guess I was really happy. Even though mom was crying, and Sanjula was silent, and dad was still working at staples, and I'm almost through the whole number puzzles book I was happy. so I smiled. and pretty soon, Sanjula started smiling too. And then Dad did. Mom didn't stop crying, but she smiled a bit too. We didn't get any of the food on the hospital sheets. When we finished eating, mom made us all say grace. At the end I didn't say amen with everyone else. I'm sorry God. I just couldn't. I was too happy to be guilty in that moment. Now I feel kind of bad about it. please don't put me in purgatory.

Today was like a lot of days around here. I woke up and blue sunlight was coming through the small window. An apple was beside my bed, becuase my dad likes apples. My mom was asleep in the chair beside my bed. There was no good looking guy sweeping in telling me that I was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. I was still sick when I woke up this morning. Jenny came is and gave me hydroxuerea, and penicillin. She smiled her smile and walked out. I lay in bed for a long while. I assumed correctly that Kurt would not show up trailing behind Sanjula. At like, one I got out of bed, and walked around the halls for a little while. slowly. Dr Edgars told me walking too fast can "severely damage my chances of becoming properly hydrated." I have oxygen therapy tomorrow. I want to swear so badly. But see, I feel that ending up in purgatory after all THIS purgatory that I'm already in would be such a waste. I've spent so much time in this hospital that I sometimes wonder whether I'm already dead. Maybe I'm dead and this is just God telling me to wait a long time. A looong time, before I can enjoy anything again. I did something terrible in my past that he wants me to be sad about. Guilty about. Another problem I have with god. People's relationships with him are always so guilty. It's like they need him to watch over them so they won't do bad things. Like the don't have the conscience to stop them from doing things that are obviously destructive. They need some idea of a guy who might send a lightning bolt through your head if you're naughty. That's what they need, I guess. But I don't need that. I've had enough being guilty. Guilty that my mother is so sad. Guilty that my parents never spend time with my sister, becuase they are always with me. I don't really know. I don't really know what I'm trying to say anymore. Jenny told me today, that she met a man. She says his name is Roger. She says  he dances like a champion. I don't really get that, but whatever. it obviously really makes Jenny... interested. So I guess I'm glad for her that he dances like a champion. She met him at a wedding, and they're going out for dinner on Wednesday. I told her that was a weird day for a dinner date, and she laughed and smiled. I think she's hiding something from me, but it's difficult to tell what, with Jenny. She's always so truthful, that I guess when she's hiding and lying, she's still telling the truth. It's only five oclock and it's already dark.

About Jenny. Jenny is very pretty, but not beautiful. She's quite normal, but I like that most about her. She has blonde hair, which I find slightly stereotypical, and she has brown eyes, which I like, because I also am blessed with mud puddle eyes. She had pinky skin, and rosy elbows. She is in love with Dr Edgars. My doctor. Sometimes she talks to him about things in front of me, which I really like. Becuase I'll never get to love someone like she loves Dr Edgars. I need to live vicariously through her. I told you she was from Georgia, and that I like her accent, but I need to again, because it's just so wonderful. She had a husband before, but she told me he ran away. I envy her husband. I wish I had the ability to run away from things so easily. Jenny's mother calls her on the phone all the time, and yells at her. She wants Jenny to be more feminine, Jenny says. Which I don't really get, but whatever. Jenny's already plenty feminine. I would call up her mom and yell at her, if I knew her phone number. Actually i probably would't. But that's okay I guess. If everyone did everything the felt like doing, the earth would probably have some sort of a seizure. Today I read part of a book by Stephen Hawking. I have decided Science is not nearly as interesting as numbers. Not even as interesting as words. I like the idea of things that make up other things. Science has a more technical way of dealing with that. I don't like it. Plus it reminds me of sickness. Jenny always hugs me when I cry. I wonder how she doesn't get tired of me, sometimes. Of course, I'm glad she doesn't. Whatever. I'm being sentimental and weird.

Today a boy came to my hospital room. He had red hair, and freckles, and i thought he wasn't that good looking. He's kind of immature actually. He came because he's 'reading to sick kids for school' direct quote, FYI. He's 17 and his name's Gus. He's a mega dork. But I've decided I love him. I have to love someone. I just have to. I'm going to die soon, and if I don't ever love someone, my life will have been a waste. I'm really scared for my life to have been a waste. There are just so many fricking things I've never done. I've never had sex. I've never been drunk. I've never been to Europe. I've never been to Hollywood. I've never eaten a fish fillet from McDonalds. The sound of a fish fillet from McDonalds is like.... the only thing that gets me through sometimes. Before I found out I was sick, I went to school. I had a friend there, and she was white, like a porcelain doll. Her name was Kim, and she went and got a fish fillet from McDonalds with her mom every thursday after school. And then on Friday she'd tell me all about it. Rubbing her tummy, making noises of extreme satisfaction with the meal she'd had some time ago. She was kind of a bitch actually, and I don't care if that hurt God's ears, because that's the honest truth. She was a bitch. I went over to her house once after school, and she took me into her bathroom, and ran the tap for a while, grabbing a bar of soap. Then she tried to wash the colour out of my skin. with a washcloth and a bar of soap she tried to make me a new person. When I think about it, I feel kind of dull. deadish. like i can feel all my red blood cells inside me. too small, and too shrivelled. Not enough oxygen for my body. Anyway, I've decided I love Gus. Because there are so many things I have never done. That this one little thing has to happen for me. My tiny sliver of a life would be too unsatisfying without it. I wrote out a list of things that Gus is going to be, in my head at least, he'll be them.
1) He'll also love numbers
2) He'll be a famous conspiracy theorist, and we'll be able to live off the bounty of his interesting and witty social commentary.
3) He'll be very kind and tender, always wondering what I'm thinking, and what I feel about situations we get into together.
4) He'll be interested in travelling with me. Because if I could make plans, I'd plan on doing a lot of travelling.
5) He'll be able to pay for gene therapy

I told Jenny about my decision to love him. She laughed a little bit, and smiled one of those 'oh you have no idea what you're doing' smiles, but she gossiped with me about how good looking he is. Then I told her baout my list.  I wish I'd left out number five when I was telling her. I hate the number. It's always been to harsh for my liking. Too used. But Jenny just looked sad about the frailty of my family's money. She said she was so sory, and I told her not to be, becuase it's not her fault. She told me that's not the point. Which I understand. But I don't want Jennny to be sorry. I want her to be happy. Pretty much all the time. That's what I'd like for her. Anyway, Gus is now my one true love. He's got such nice hair, Today I spent a good 10 minutes, (a nice round number) thinking about running my hands through it while we kiss.

I love math. I'm an eleven year old girl. and I love math. It's like this, okay. So, words can be put together a few ways, and they can create things. Letters can shape ideas and those ideas can shape lives and stuff. whatever. words are important too. But look at numbers as sparks that make up every single thing in the universe. The internet is entirely numbers. Your bedroom is all numbers. Numbers hold secrets in them the words could never ever even attempt to convey. Numbers are what keep me going, even when I'm in the hospital. I'm in the hospital a lot of the time. That's just the way things happened. I don't really mind so much anymore, so don't feel bad for me. I really hate that. I would swear about it, but Jenny told me swearing hurts God's ears. I don't really believe in God, but I'm so close to dying, I might as well follow every rule I can to make it so I won't burn. Because lately, even though I've been trying so hard to think optimistically like Jenny says, I can't. I know I'm going to die. This is the last thing I have to commemorate my life. It's literally all I have left. Because I'm sick. And in the end, numbers are the only things I have with me all the time. My name is Rhadika. Numbers are my only friends besides my nurse, Jenny, and I have Sickle Cell anemia. I'm a little bit yellow sometimes, but my mother just tells me I'm shining to God like a star on earth. This is supposed to be comforting, but because I don't really believe in God, it's not. I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything too cold or too hot, I have to take penicillin, and folic acid. A lot. I need a lot of blood transfusions, because my blood isn't full enough. All my red blood cells are too small. Too weak. They can't carry the oxygen. Sometimes I just wish they'd give up, but I know they won't. My family is from New Delhi, in India. I was born there. I remember before I found out I was sick, sitting with my father in the middle of the city. That was before we came here. When my mother would tell me about Canada, she would describe it as a shiny glowing place, where I could learn anything I wanted about numbers, and things would be better for us, and I could wear whatever I wanted, and I could see snow. Snow at first was nice. Then I realized how not nice it is. Especially here. It's too snowy in Saskatoon. And if it's not too snowy, it's too slushy. The summers aren't hot enough and the winters are too cold. But I try not to complain, because after all, I'm lucky to be here still, writing this. Beggars cannot afford to be chosers. That's what Jenny says. Jenny says a lot of things. I don't want this whole thing to be about my sick. I want it to be about me. and numbers. Becuase I don't want my sick to.... make me who I am. I want who I am to be a separate thing from the sick. That's all. So here it is. I am me. Rhadika. I used to live in New Delhi, a beautiful bustling place. Now I live in a hospital room, becuase I have a common disease that is rarely as bad as I have it. I'm going to die soon, and this is all I have left.  And I don't believe in God. Partly because I wonder about how true things like the bible can be, when people have the opportunity to twist the words-another reason I like numbers. They always say the same thing. People don't have an opportunity to lie to you about what numbers mean. They ALWAYS mean the same things. And partly because if there was something up there or out there or around here who really cared, they wouldn't let my mother cry so much. And they wouldn't let Jenny's Husband be gone. I once asked her about him. She said, "Darlin' there's only one thing you can say about a man like my husband. And that's something that would most definitely hurt God's ears, so I'll just tell ya, he was a confused soul if I ever saw one. Thought I could fix 'im. Boy was I ever wrong. But don't you worry about that now Miss Rhadika. You're favourite show is on." I love Jenny. She's from Georgia. Her accent is strange but beautiful, and she always pronounces my name wrong, but I don't mind because sometimes I don't understand words either. Numbers are better.

About Sanjula. She's 12 years older than me. We don't really talk, and probably never will. She has a snotty boyfriend. If I was going to live long enough, I would try to think of a way to get back at Sanjula for being such a... I don't want to hurt God's ears. When we still lived in India, She once stuck a dead cockroach up my nose when I was asleep. That's kind of the way I describe Sanjula. She's like that about a lot of things. She'd stick a cockroach up your nose if you bothered her enough.