Among the many worn-down paper-backed books that filled my childhood, Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes will always stand out. Sadako, a Japanese girl who survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, is diagnosed with radiation poisoning. When things begin looking grim, Sadako begins to fold a thousand paper cranes in hopes of gaining her one wish: to live.
Though she later passed, her story – her fight to give herself a better life – has become my calling.
When I was twelve years old, my entire life was torn apart by childhood leukemia. While my peers were making memories at their new middle schools, I spent my days insensibly drifting from infusion to infusion, dreading waking up to see another hospital visit scheduled.
Chemotherapy concoctions coursed every inch of my veins, immersing me in seemingly endless cycles of nausea and lethargy. For months, I wasn’t living; I was merely surviving.
Just as my life began to fade away, the immeasurable power of genuine love and care saved me. Volunteers for Make-A-Wish Hawai’i filled the staleness of my hospital room with the glow of fun cards and posters, the sound of laughing from our Zoom calls, and an unfamiliar feeling of newfound hope. I didn’t have to fold a thousand paper cranes; they would do it for me. Slowly, I began to reclaim the parts of my life lost to cancer, dreaming of the day I would achieve my wish. When that day came, and I got to go skiing in Utah, I realized the unnoticed potential of volunteering to change someone’s life. While letting me plan various parts of my wish over Zoom or writing me a simple letter may have been a small part of a Make-A-Wish volunteer’s day, each of these acts gave me hope.
Ua ola loko i ke aloha.
Love gives life within.
I live as a testament to the miraculous power of medicine, but also love. I have since declared I will bring that same warmth into other people’s lives through volunteering as a Make-A-Wish Youth Leader, helping children battling critical illnesses grow their wings despite the hardships they may face.
When I volunteer at events, plan and carry out fundraisers, and write cards for children, I find peace knowing that opportunities like these once provided my younger self with brief respite through all of the pain. And though such acts may have seemed small, they had an infinite impact on me.
While the impact of my volunteering isn’t always immediate or transparent, I now understand service has the potential not only to change, but to save lives. I have seen how a simple interaction can remind a child enduring unspeakable hardships that they are far more than their illness, that their dreams are still possible, that someone believes in them.
I carry my brand of compassionate empathy everywhere, hoping to remind those facing their hardest moments that they will never be alone. Every letter, every conversation, and every laugh is a small act with infinite impact.
Though Sadako’s resilience and vision were incredibly inspiring, nobody should have to navigate life’s hardships alone. Everyone deserves to have someone by their side, so I will sit with them, empathize with their story, and continue to fold on – one act, one card, one paper crane at a time.