One Thousand Paper Cranes
Walking toward his mother's bedroom, Mark slowed his pace. His heart ached and felt heavy. His mother's illness hung over him like a shroud, turning his life black. She had cancer in her lungs and he didn't know why and who to blame. She didn't smoke, so why did it have to happen to her. He questioned. He stopped at the door, gathering his thoughts. What would he say to his mother?. He took a deep breath, gathered his strength, and opened the door quietly.
"Mom, how are you today? I'm sorry I haven't come to see you for a while." Mark said as he smiled at her trying to be cheerful. "Mom, I have a surprise for you today. I'm sure you will love it." He held his surprise behind his back with his right hand, but was so excited that he couldn't hide his feelings. He imagined her smiling as he revealed his gift.
Maggie lay in her bed , lost in thought, and showed little interest.
"Mark, is that you? Come close to me." She glanced at her son and tried to move her body to sit up, but she couldn't. She took a deep sigh and said, "I'm sorry, Mark. I don't feel good today."
She knew she was dying. She suffered from lung cancer for a year. She had two painful operations in the last couple of months that had drained all of her strength. She was getting weaker and weaker. Now she stayed in bed all day, reading, watching TV, seeing occasional visitors, and remembering her life. She found momentary relief with her visitors, but always she would quickly tire and have to sleep. She smelled death around her. An independent woman all of her life, she wanted to take care of herself, but she was too weak to do so. Her body was dying daily, but her mind remained clear so she started writing her journal. She a...
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...cranes and wonder at the folding. I will treasure senbazulu for years. Thank your Japanese friend for me."
Mark had forgotten about the thousand cranes since his last visit. That was a wonderful gift for her. He didn't really believe its myth, but he wondered now that maybe it could be true.
Summer was over. Four months passed since he had a family reunion at his hometown. He sat on his mother's empty bed in the dimly lit room and looked at the cranes hanging on the wall. His mother had died. He read her last letter to him. For a moment, a cool fall breeze fanned into the room through the slightly opened window. He could hear his grandfather's old clock across the room ticking loudly. He thought that one of the cranes smiled down at him, broke free and flew in the sky.
He cried as he watched it fade into the horizon. "Take care of my mom," he whispered.
Although illness narratives are not novel or new, their prevalence in modern popular literature could be attributed to how these stories can be relatable, empowering, and thought-provoking. Susan Grubar is the writer for the blog “Living with Cancer”, in The New York Times, that communicates her experience with ovarian cancer (2012). In our LIBS 7001 class, Shirley Chuck, Navdeep Dha, Brynn Tomie, and I (2016) discussed various narrative elements of her more recent blog post, “Living with Cancer: A Farewell to Legs” (2016). Although the elements of narration and description (Gracias, 2016) were easily identified by all group members, the most interesting topics revolved around symbolism as well as the overall impression or mood of the post.
“Ok thanks”James sounding sad.Him and his mom leave the hospital and on the way home the car was silent.
Cold sweat trickles down Kate's back as she stands over the hospital bed, watching the mother she cares for slowly pass away. The droning beep of the monitoring heart machine pierces through the air. Kate kisses her mother one last time, wiping warm tears from her watery eyes, and sluggishly begins to leave. Step by step out of the door the pain intensifies in her heart, but Kate must keep staying strong and move on. A new chapter of her life begins here. Much like Kate, Anna Quindlen undergoes with the catastrophic death of her mother dying of cancer, leaving her arriving at college with an entire new perspective. Her significant childhood and maturement, experiencing the death of her mother, and giving birth to three children influenced Anna Quindlen with her writings.
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
Though there are several patients featured, the story centers around Cody Curtis, a woman who was diagnosed with liver cancer. At 56, she is a beautiful woman who doesn’t appear to be sick. She seems healthy and happy. However she is in constant pain and is suffering greatly. She is given a diagnosis of only six months left to live and sets a date to choose to die. She has complete control over when she will die. She can make peace with those around her and complete her life before she dies. She says that death with dignity won’t be easy, but it would be easier than the alternatives. However, she outlives her diagnosis and her quality of life continues to improve. When things take a turn for the worst, she decides to end her
In the story, Windows by Bernice Morgan, the protagonist, Leah, is convinced that she is dying. As the story progresses, she experiences a full range of emotions and thoughts about everyone and everything in her life. Leah struggles with mental and physical illnesses. Her biggest problem is her depression. The theme of depression is explored through Leah’s relationship with other characters and her surroundings.
• This experience made her very secluded and reserved. She thought a lot about suicide but found comfort in writing. She became an observer rather than a participator in everyday life.
It had been a cold, snowy day, just a few days after Thanksgiving. My grandmother became immensely ill and unable to care for herself. We knew she had health problems but her sudden turn for the worst was so unexpected and therefore we weren’t prepared for the decisions that had to be made and the guilt we would feel. Where would grandma live? Would she be taken care of? So many concerns floated around. A solution was finally found and one that was believed to be the best or so we thought.
In this book, the reader gets a closer look into what the end of care looks like from a medical perspective. The author provides a variety of different stories about patients that he worked with. The author also talks about his father throughout the book and his end of life journey. He goes from story to story as he always connects back to his personal connection with the end of life process he experienced with his father. Even as a medical doctor, things were still challenging. Each story is a little bit different and unique. There are some about older people who have lived long lives and then their bodies start to fail and some stories about younger people who have are diagnosed with cancer or other terminal illnesses. Altogether, this book
Death alone is a scary thought to most individuals. People who live their life in fear of death don’t really get the most out of life. Someone who is terminally ill would be in a similar situation. There are two ways to live life after being diagnosed terminally ill. One way would be to get the most out of what remains of the person’s life. This would be considered the positive outcome. In the story “Letter from a Sick Person” the narrator recently has been informed he is terminal. Instead of panicking or being upset he embraces it. He accepts that his death is unavoidable and it gives him a brand new meaning in his life. He states, “In journeys, the greatest grief is hidden”. This life explains while he is not exactly happy he has discovered a way to cope with his illness. He feels as if it was his time stating, “I tell you I wanted death to come like a captain and carry me off”. Even in his death he knew that it wasn’t him who would be forced to overcome his death but the people left
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
Two years and four months ago I died. A terrible condition struck me, and I was unable to do anything about it. In a matter of less than a year, it crushed down all of my hopes and dreams. This condition was the death of my mother. Even today, when I talk about it, I burst into tears because I feel as though it was yesterday. I desperately tried to forget, and that meant living in denial about what had happened. I never wanted to speak about it whenever anyone would ask me how I felt. To lose my Mom meant losing my life. I felt I died with her. Many times I wished I had given up, but I knew it would break the promise we made years before she passed away. Therefore, I came back from the dead determined and more spirited than before.
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
The time was 7:30 on a Monday morning. The smell of gasoline lingered in the air long enough for anyone to notice. Sunlight filtered through the brush. The cry of an animal in the distance startled some doves in the clearing, and they took off in marvellous flight. Metal lay strewn about the grass. A body lay on the ground, eyes closed. A large cut was spread on its leg. A bird flew into the clearing and landed on the body. A throaty cry escaped from its beak, as it drowned out the wail of sirens approaching in the distance.
“Hello Miss Megan, or should I say my royal highness” she said with a playful smile, promoting my fantasy. I curtseyed to her and then ran to the kitchen to grab another handful of snacks. I plopped down on the floor cradling the Cheerio box in my lap. I watched my mom and grandma share hushed conversation near the door way, followed by a lingering hug.