Legend has it that if a person makes one thousand paper cranes, he or she is granted a wish (more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thousand_origami_cranes). Like many people my age, I first heard about this legend through the story of Sadako Sasaki - the young Japanese girl diagnosed with leukemia (she was exposed to radiation when the Hiroshima atomic bomb exploded) who attempted to fold a thousand cranes to fulfill her wish of recovery. Though she did not succeed in finishing that goal before her untimely death, the tradition of folding cranes for cancer patients has remained something of a pop culture phenomenon.
Which is why I decided to embark on such a task, once diagnosed with cancer myself. The superstitious part of me was convinced that if I could fold a thousand origami cranes, then my wish for a cure would surely come true. It was that simple! I started folding right away. People offered to help, but I refused, rationalizing that my wish would be stronger, more potent, if I did all of the work myself. I figured I could fold a certain number of cranes a day and have it done in two weeks, a month tops.
(I think you can see where I'm going with this...)
Yet, four months and five chemo sessions later, I found myself staring at the box of unfolded paper. The small percentage of finished cranes just stared back at me with silent judgement. I considered all of the times when I could have folded cranes and didn't. How quickly projects are so easily tossed aside in favor of excuses and reasons why not. This is typical behavior for me. I go through phases - I like to start a ton of personal side projects all at once, which eventually tend to fizzle out as I grow increasingly bored with each of them. Honestly, I'm surprised this blog has lasted as long as it has.
At first, I folded large cranes (6x6 paper) but then I realized the final product would be too large of a scale, so I dropped that and started folding smaller cranes (3x3 paper). I took random paper and folded cranes haphazardly, but then I realized I wanted there to be some kind of pattern with the colors and design of paper. So, I scrapped those cranes and started all over again, this time first counting out the different kinds of paper and organizing them by color, pattern, etc. It took forever, but I finally had a system in place. I split the thousand sheets of paper into ten groups of one hundred each and got to work. But then I was too exhausted to do the actual folding!
By this point, there was a slight hiccup in my treatment, which resulted in my having to do several mid-treatment scans. I won't go into details, because there's no point in causing unnecessary worry, but suffice it to say that this new, unexpected wrinkle was not what I had expected. It was more than just extreme fatigue and stiff joints and low white blood cell counts. There was a huge disparity between the results of my first cycle and my fourth - where my doctor was hugely impressed and optimistic before, now he was flummoxed and a little unsure. And if a decision wasn't made soon, then, well...
Let's just say it might not bode well for my future.
And so, due to my aforementioned superstitious nature, I looked to the cranes again for help. Only this time, I wasn't going to give up on them or myself so easily. On a selfish level, I needed this cancer wish to be granted, but as we all know wishes aren't free. Nothing is free, everything has a cost. But a thousand folded paper cranes in exchange for life doesn't really seem like a bad deal, when you think about it. It seems almost silly to put my hope in that, but people have put hope in all sorts of things to help them get through difficult times. Rather there be a little hope then no hope at all.
In that week I folded seven hundred paper cranes, with only three hundred (about a third) left to go. My fingers were stiff and raw and calloused and covered in tiny paper cuts. I was exhausted, but I still planned to finish the rest. And, the thing is, it wasn't about folding the cranes themselves - that part is arbitrary. It's about setting a goal and achieving it no matter the obstacles and whatever the outcome. I mean, has there ever been a sense of accomplishment in an unmet goal?
As my scheduled treatment draws to a close, I still need to have a PET scan, the results of which would determine whether or not I could stop the chemotherapy. My insurance company had denied the PET scan five times already, but I was determined to have it approved this time around. I started by folding two hundred paper cranes. My husband and I also contacted my oncologist's office to send my past scans and reports to the insurance company; the human resources dept at my job contacted the insurance company on my behalf; and my supervisors even contacted high-level administrators at my job to get some kind of result.
In the meantime, I had CT and full-body bone scans scheduled just in case the PET scan was denied again - I needed SOME kind of scan result if I was going to try to avoid yet another cycle of chemo on Monday (6/15). The CT/bone scans were scheduled for Friday, yesterday, and that morning before heading to the hospital, I sat and finished the final one hundred cranes. I had just folded my last crane, number one thousand, when I received a phone call from the HR representative at my job: after six months of waiting and multiple denials, my PET scan had finally been approved.
This was the moment for which I had been waiting, and even my superstitious nature couldn't believe that it all happened the moment I finished my goal of folding one thousand paper cranes!
Just to be on the safe side, I poured all of the tiny cranes onto the floor and counted them out, one by one. By the time I had finished counting them all - all one thousand cranes - the CT/bone scans were canceled for that day and PET scan was scheduled for 6/22, so that means I will have to undergo one last cycle of chemo on Monday. But even though I am not looking forward to more chemo, I am willing to do that if it means I might never have to do it again.
The moral of today's story: You can do anything you put your mind to, as long as you buckle down and just do it. Also, I am superstitious. Also also, miracles won't happen if you sit around and wait for them to appear - true miracles come from persistence, dedication, hard work. And maybe a little luck, too.
(I think you can see where I'm going with this...)
Yet, four months and five chemo sessions later, I found myself staring at the box of unfolded paper. The small percentage of finished cranes just stared back at me with silent judgement. I considered all of the times when I could have folded cranes and didn't. How quickly projects are so easily tossed aside in favor of excuses and reasons why not. This is typical behavior for me. I go through phases - I like to start a ton of personal side projects all at once, which eventually tend to fizzle out as I grow increasingly bored with each of them. Honestly, I'm surprised this blog has lasted as long as it has.
At first, I folded large cranes (6x6 paper) but then I realized the final product would be too large of a scale, so I dropped that and started folding smaller cranes (3x3 paper). I took random paper and folded cranes haphazardly, but then I realized I wanted there to be some kind of pattern with the colors and design of paper. So, I scrapped those cranes and started all over again, this time first counting out the different kinds of paper and organizing them by color, pattern, etc. It took forever, but I finally had a system in place. I split the thousand sheets of paper into ten groups of one hundred each and got to work. But then I was too exhausted to do the actual folding!
By this point, there was a slight hiccup in my treatment, which resulted in my having to do several mid-treatment scans. I won't go into details, because there's no point in causing unnecessary worry, but suffice it to say that this new, unexpected wrinkle was not what I had expected. It was more than just extreme fatigue and stiff joints and low white blood cell counts. There was a huge disparity between the results of my first cycle and my fourth - where my doctor was hugely impressed and optimistic before, now he was flummoxed and a little unsure. And if a decision wasn't made soon, then, well...
Let's just say it might not bode well for my future.
And so, due to my aforementioned superstitious nature, I looked to the cranes again for help. Only this time, I wasn't going to give up on them or myself so easily. On a selfish level, I needed this cancer wish to be granted, but as we all know wishes aren't free. Nothing is free, everything has a cost. But a thousand folded paper cranes in exchange for life doesn't really seem like a bad deal, when you think about it. It seems almost silly to put my hope in that, but people have put hope in all sorts of things to help them get through difficult times. Rather there be a little hope then no hope at all.
In that week I folded seven hundred paper cranes, with only three hundred (about a third) left to go. My fingers were stiff and raw and calloused and covered in tiny paper cuts. I was exhausted, but I still planned to finish the rest. And, the thing is, it wasn't about folding the cranes themselves - that part is arbitrary. It's about setting a goal and achieving it no matter the obstacles and whatever the outcome. I mean, has there ever been a sense of accomplishment in an unmet goal?
As my scheduled treatment draws to a close, I still need to have a PET scan, the results of which would determine whether or not I could stop the chemotherapy. My insurance company had denied the PET scan five times already, but I was determined to have it approved this time around. I started by folding two hundred paper cranes. My husband and I also contacted my oncologist's office to send my past scans and reports to the insurance company; the human resources dept at my job contacted the insurance company on my behalf; and my supervisors even contacted high-level administrators at my job to get some kind of result.
In the meantime, I had CT and full-body bone scans scheduled just in case the PET scan was denied again - I needed SOME kind of scan result if I was going to try to avoid yet another cycle of chemo on Monday (6/15). The CT/bone scans were scheduled for Friday, yesterday, and that morning before heading to the hospital, I sat and finished the final one hundred cranes. I had just folded my last crane, number one thousand, when I received a phone call from the HR representative at my job: after six months of waiting and multiple denials, my PET scan had finally been approved.
This was the moment for which I had been waiting, and even my superstitious nature couldn't believe that it all happened the moment I finished my goal of folding one thousand paper cranes!
Just to be on the safe side, I poured all of the tiny cranes onto the floor and counted them out, one by one. By the time I had finished counting them all - all one thousand cranes - the CT/bone scans were canceled for that day and PET scan was scheduled for 6/22, so that means I will have to undergo one last cycle of chemo on Monday. But even though I am not looking forward to more chemo, I am willing to do that if it means I might never have to do it again.
The moral of today's story: You can do anything you put your mind to, as long as you buckle down and just do it. Also, I am superstitious. Also also, miracles won't happen if you sit around and wait for them to appear - true miracles come from persistence, dedication, hard work. And maybe a little luck, too.
I appreciate this story. Superstition does not have to be looked down at. We, human being, instinctively know that we are not just a bunch of physical chemical put together. There is an inner soul within us that for many thousands of years has been dormant but nevertheless there. Our spiritual being is connected to a vast spiritual world that we know very little about. Religion has helped us but it is not enough. You did your part, you worked hard, and you fought with all your might to do something that will give the result you wanted. Alongside with you, in the invisible world, many of your ancestors and other positive, kind, heavenly spirits did the same.
ReplyDeleteIt is not superstition; it is the inner belief that the world we all know and see is just half of the story.
Thank you again, for your courage and determination. I am also a cancer survivor. I also received 1,000 cranes from my beloved students stimulated by their Japanese teacher. They felt good to do so, and I was truly grateful to receive them.
A win-win situation
May God bless you and your family, always,
Anne-Marie
Dear Nari,
ReplyDeleteWhen I wrote my comment above, for some reason I did not realized that it was you who, who was writing, I thought I was commenting on someone whom I did not know.
However, my comment stand.
You are a great person and this venture of your in this year 2015 is unique and I bet you are learning many things. If you had had the choice you probably not have chosen that path to learn the lessons you are learning, but sometimes we just don't chose the path it is chosen for us.
You are doing well.
We all of you, but you know that, right?