What happens inside us when we hear the word cancer? Does it change our understanding of life, our priorities, and the way we relate to others?

I can’t speak from personal experience, but I wonder (sometimes, and especially today) what goes through someone’s mind when they receive a diagnosis like this. Perhaps fear, uncertainty, and many questions arise. Perhaps some things that seemed important fade into the background, while others regain their true significance.

Everyone reacts differently. We don’t all face difficulties with the same tools, nor are we obligated to find a positive lesson in suffering. However, a serious illness can lead us to re-evaluate our priorities and ask ourselves if we are dedicating our time to what truly matters.

These days, the situation of Pope Leo XIV has led me to reflect on this.

Yesterday, October 3, 2026, the Vatican confirmed that analysis of tissue removed during his surgery had identified a pulmonary adenocarcinoma, a type of lung cancer. The lower lobe of his right lung was removed during the operation. The procedure was uncomplicated, although further medical tests were still pending and no definitive prognosis had been announced.

These are the facts known as of writing these lines today, Wednesday the 14th. We do not know how Pope Leo is personally experiencing this situation or what thoughts it evokes in him. To attribute to him feelings or decisions that he has not expressed would be speculation.

But the news raises a question: what happens when human frailty affects someone whom millions of people consider a spiritual role model?

For Catholics, the Pope is the successor of Peter and the shepherd of the universal Church. He represents a source of faith, hope, and guidance. But above all his responsibilities, he is a human being who, like any of us, can fall ill and needs care.

Sometimes it seems that those with great responsibilities must always be available and display unwavering strength. We see this in managers, caregivers, and those who hold spiritual responsibilities.

However, those who accompany also need to be accompanied.

Those who provide care need care themselves.

And those who guide others also have their own uncertainties.

What can a person reconsider when their health reminds them that they don’t control everything?

Perhaps the value of time.

We live busy lives with schedules, commitments and goals, postponing a call, a visit or a conversation as if there were always another opportunity.

Perhaps personal relationships too. Difficulties can help us recognize those who stay by our side without asking for anything in return: those who listen, accompany, and are present, even if they don’t have solutions.

And then there’s work. After many years in my profession, I still believe in the value of working, undertaking projects, and achieving goals. But it’s also important to ask ourselves why we work, what we contribute to others, and what place our professional activity occupies in our lives as a whole.

Success can be measured in results and responsibilities. However, there are other aspects that don’t appear in any management report: the people we’ve helped, the time we’ve dedicated to our families, and the values ​​we’ve instilled.

In the case of the Pope, another reflection arises: how to reconcile a responsibility of global scope with the need to take care of one’s own health?

Adapting your schedule, delegating, and trusting others are all part of responsible behavior. Accepting help isn’t necessarily a sign of weakness, but rather a realistic way of acknowledging our limitations.

From a faith perspective, illness can also raise profound questions. For many believers, prayer offers a form of support and hope. This doesn’t mean that faith eliminates fear or resolves all uncertainties, but rather that it can offer a way to cope with them.

As a Catholic, I feel part of the flock the Pope addresses (and leads). His situation makes me think about the man behind the public figure and the importance of showing closeness when someone is going through a difficult time.

It’s not about idealizing him, but about recognizing his humanity.

We don’t need to wait for an illness to directly affect us to review our priorities.

We can ask ourselves if we live in accordance with our values, if we nurture our relationships enough, and if we dedicate time to the people we love. Nothing extraordinary has to happen for us to be grateful, to reconcile, or to stop procrastinating on what’s important.

The Pope’s situation reminds us that positions, responsibilities, and recognition do not eliminate our fragility. And that strength does not always consist of continuing at the same pace, but also in knowing when to stop and accept help.

I don’t know what Pope Leo XIV is reflecting on at this moment. Only he can answer that question. But his situation leads me to ask myself others:

Am I dedicating enough time to what’s truly important? 

Is there a conversation I’ve been putting off for too long? 

Do we need life to give us a warning to start living differently?

Perhaps the question is not how much time we have, but what we do with it, who we dedicate it to, and what mark we leave on others.

Wouldn’t it be better to review our priorities out of conviction, rather than being forced to do so by circumstances?

The news is that the Pope has cancer.

Carlos Solis