Everything ends.
That truth can feel like a knife or a lifeline, depending on where you are and what you’re facing. But for anyone living through the chaos of cancer, or walking beside someone who is, it’s a truth worth holding onto. Because when things feel unbearable, remembering that nothing lasts forever can help you survive the moment, the week, the scan, the side effect, the grief.
You are temporary. But so is everything that hurts.
The Pain Doesn’t Last Forever, Even When It Feels Like It Will
Cancer, whether you’re living with it or caring for someone who is, has a way of stretching time. A single day can feel like a year. A bad night can feel endless. It’s easy to forget that the pain, the fear, the exhaustion, the anger… they all pass. They come in waves. And every wave that crashes eventually recedes.
Sometimes, surviving is about nothing more than staying upright until the tide shifts again. Letting the pain wash over without believing it will define every moment from now on. Because it won’t. It never does.
“This Too Shall Pass” The Old Man and the Horse
There’s an old story from Taoist tradition about a farmer whose horse runs away. His neighbours come rushing over, “What terrible luck!” they say. The old man simply replies: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The next day, the horse comes back, and brings with it several wild horses. “Amazing!” say the neighbours. Again, the old man replies, “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The following day, his son tries to ride one of the wild horses, is thrown off, and breaks his leg. The neighbours gasp, “How awful!” The old man remains calm: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
Then a war breaks out. All the young men are drafted, except the farmer’s son, who is left alone because of his broken leg.
The point? Nothing stays good, nothing stays bad. Things change. Constantly. That doesn’t mean what you’re going through right now isn’t painful, it just means it’s not the final version of the story. Not yet.
Whatever you’re in, it will pass. And whatever comes next… that will pass too.
The Good Moments Are Temporary Too, That’s Why They Matter
If you’ve found yourself clinging to little moments lately, a quiet coffee, a laugh with your partner, a peaceful walk, or even a few hours without pain, that’s not weakness. That’s wisdom. When life feels uncertain, noticing those tiny pockets of okay-ness isn’t just comforting, it’s how we stay human.
The good stuff passes too. But that’s what makes it beautiful. Impermanence doesn’t just make the bad tolerable, it makes the good precious.
For Carers, Supporters and Loved Ones: This Is Hard. But So Are You.
If you’re supporting someone through cancer, as a partner, parent, mate, or carer, you’re carrying pain that isn’t always visible. The helplessness. The fear. The not knowing what to say or do. You might not be the one in the chemo chair, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.
Just like the person you’re supporting, your emotions will shift. You’ll have days where you feel strong and present, and days where you feel like you’re falling apart. And that’s okay. None of it is permanent. You don’t have to be a superhero. You just have to hang in there.
Let Go of “Forever Thinking”
Cancer has a cruel way of hijacking your mind with extreme thoughts, “I’ll never feel normal again.” “I’ll always be this tired.” “This is what life is now.” That kind of thinking is seductive because it tries to give you certainty in a time when everything feels out of control.
But it’s rarely true. Most of the time, it’s just your brain trying to protect you by preparing for the worst. You don’t have to believe it. Let yourself come back to what’s real right now, not forever. Right now is hard. But right now is not forever.
Rough Patches Aren’t the End, They’re Just Parts
It’s tempting to define your life by the lowest points. Especially when those points last a while. But your story is bigger than a diagnosis, or a bad scan result, or a stretch of horrible pain. This is one chapter. Not the whole book.
Some chapters are brutal. Others are slow. Some are full of joy. Some are short. Some stretch longer than we ever thought they would. But none of them last forever. And none of them get to tell the whole story unless we let them.
If You’re Still Here, You’re Already Doing Something Remarkable
Staying in the fight, emotionally, mentally, physically, when your world is falling apart is nothing short of heroic. Whether you’re enduring the treatments yourself, or sitting by someone’s side in the hard moments, you’re doing something most people don’t see, but should deeply respect.
You don’t have to be fearless. You just have to keep going. Not forever. Just today. Just until the next moment of calm. The next bit of light. The next breath that doesn’t hurt quite so much.
Final Thought
You are temporary. But so is everything that hurts. That’s not meant to scare you, it’s meant to free you. Because pain passes. Fear softens. Grief shifts. Even the worst days end.
If you can’t see the finish line yet, that’s okay. You don’t need to. Just know that whatever you’re carrying right now, it won’t always weigh this much. Nothing owns you forever. Not even this.
Message from the author:
Thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you found this blog helpful. If there’s anything you’d like to see covered in a future blog, or if you have thoughts or questions about what you’ve read, please feel free to comment below or send me a message. I also hope you take a moment to explore the rest of my page. There’s plenty of additional information for bowel cancer patients, caregivers, and anyone wanting to learn more.
Disclaimer:
I do my best to keep the information here up to date and relevant, all while navigating my own cancer journey. Just a gentle reminder: I’m not a healthcare professional, I’m a cancer patient sharing what I’ve learned along the way. Everything shared here is general information and may not be right for everyone. This is not medical advice, and you should always consult your healthcare team before making any changes that could impact your treatment.

