Personal Blogs

A Love That Does Not Dissapoint

Thursday 30 July 2026 at 08:20

Visible to anyone in the world

Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 30 July 2026 at 19:44

A Love That Does Not Dissapoint

A terminal cancer diagnosis changes more than the body. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, it changes the way other people see you.

Those who once seemed distant or distracted often reveal a gentleness you never knew existed. It is as though a curtain has been drawn aside and a softer light has entered the room.

Hormone and chemo therapy, intended to hold the disease at bay, brings its own peculiar burdens. Irritability can arrive without warning. Memory becomes unreliable, blurring the edges of thought. Unwanted reflections circle endlessly through the mind, and a profound weariness settles into the bones. Sometimes an unexpected question whispers through the day: 'Should I let nature take its final journey?''

Yet while the body struggles, something else begins to happen.

Doctor's surgeries, hospital corridors, consulting rooms, and even chance encounters on the street seem to move to a different rhythm. The world itself has not changed, but people often do. It is as though an unseen conductor has raised his baton and invited everyone to play more gently.

Strangers offer kindness without being asked. Casual acquaintances step forward with remarkable loyalty. Nurses, consultants and receptionists who could easily treat you as another appointment pause, listen and give something beyond professional duty. The ordinary world begins to glow with unexpected grace.

Not everyone responds this way, of course. Some continue through life as though separated from the suffering of others by a sheet of glass, absorbed in their own concerns. Yet even they have something to teach us. Their indifference throws compassion into sharper relief, reminding us that kindness is never ordinary. It is a gift.

The greatest surprise is this: the world has not suddenly become kinder. The kindness was always there. It is simply that illness strips away many of life's distractions and allows us to notice what was previously hidden. Compassion has always been woven into the fabric of humanity. We just do not always see it.

A terminal diagnosis is therefore more than a summons to confront mortality. It also offers a rare vantage point from which to observe humanity itself. From that place you discover that people are capable of astonishing tenderness. The world is both selfish and generous, broken and beautiful, brutal and compassionate.

And in the end, one truth rises above all the others:

'What a person desires is love that does not dissapoint.'

— Proverbs 19:22

Tags: terminal illness, cancer journey, kindness, compassion, humanity, hope, suffering, Christian reflection, Proverbs 19:22, relationships, grace, mortality, finding beauty, encouragement, personal essay

Permalink Add your comment

Kindness Revealed by Cancer

Wednesday 1 October 2025 at 15:30

Visible to anyone in the world

Kindness Revealed by Cancer

One of the quiet revelations of a terminal cancer diagnosis is how it rearranges the way people see you , and how they behave. Those once distant or distracted often disclose a hidden gentleness, as if some curtain has been pulled back and a softer light now fills the room.

Hormone therapy, designed to build a barricade around the disease, carries its own peculiar burdens: flashes of irritation, forgetfulness that blurs the edges of thought, intrusive reflections that won’t be stilled, and a bone-deep laziness born of a body waging war with itself. A strange “why bother?” attitude can settle in, uninvited.

And yet, even as the body falters, the world around begins to hum to a different rhythm. Doctor’s surgeries, hospital corridors, consulting rooms, even casual encounters on the street, seem to shift into a gentler register, as if an unseen conductor had raised his baton and signalled a new movement. Life, unchanged in its structure, suddenly breathes with grace.

Strangers offer more of themselves than expected. Acquaintances once on the periphery step forward with unwavering loyalty. Professionals who might once have hurried through their routines pause, listen, and offer more than mere duty. The world, in all its ordinariness, takes on a tender hue.

Of course, not everyone changes. Some glide through life as if behind glass, fixed on their own path, unmoved by the suffering of others. But perhaps they serve a purpose too, their indifference sets the stage on which kindness shines more brightly. The fabric of the world is no different; it is our awareness that deepens, revealing compassion woven invisibly into its threads.

A terminal diagnosis, then, is not only a herald of fear or sadness. It is also a vantage point granted to few — a place from which we see life as it truly is: selfish and luminous, flawed and astonishingly kind, brutal and breathtakingly beautiful.

“What a person desires is unfailing love.” — Proverbs 19:22 (NIV)

Image by Copilot

Tags: Proverbs 19:22, dealing with cancer

Permalink 2 comments (latest comment by Jim McCrory, Thursday 2 October 2025 at 14:30)

Terminal Cancer's Unseen Grace

Monday 3 February 2025 at 09:49

Visible to anyone in the world

Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday 23 August 2025 at 10:53

Image generated with the assistance of Microsoft Copilot

Cancer's Unseen Grace

One thing I’ve observed about the human family is that a fatal cancer diagnosis alters the architecture of perception regarding how they treat you. Those who are often indifferent or preoccupied reveal a hidden tenderness.

Tolerance kicks in from those around. Some side effects of hormone therapy, which is targeted at building a wall around cancer, include grumpiness, failing memory, intrusive thoughts, and an insatiable appetite for laziness, triggered by the body fighting with itself, and a "can’t be bothered" attitude.

But the machinery of life—doctor's surgeries, hospitals, consultants, even passing acquaintances—shifts into a mode of quiet grace, as if some unseen conductor has signalled a change in the score. It is an irony of human existence that when you find you're the piper at the gates of mortality, the world looks somewhat hopeful, illuminating the presence of kindness.

Strangers extend themselves in unexpected ways; friends, once casual, become unwavering; professionals, who might otherwise be hurried, now pause, listen, and offer more than duty requires. The same world, unchanged in its mechanics, pulses with a gentler rhythm.

Of course, not everyone is transformed. There are always those who move through life as if unseeing, concerned only with their own trajectory. But is that new? Their indifference and selfishness are constants against which kindness becomes more visible. It is not that the world changes—it is that awareness sharpens, revealing the threads of compassion that were always there, woven into the fabric of existence.

A terminal illness, then, does not merely bring fear or sorrow; it grants a rare vantage point. From this place, one sees the world not as it should be, but as it is—both flawed and profoundly beautiful, both self-absorbed and astonishingly kind.

"What a person desires is unfailing love" Proverbs 19:22 (Niv).