What Healthcare Has Quietly Taught Me

Sometimes it takes a few years in a field before you realise how deeply it has shaped the way you think. When I first moved into healthcare communications, I saw it as a career trajectory shift. It meant learning new terminologies, understanding patient education, and helping hospital brands win brand resonance. What I did not expect was how much it would change the way I understand care itself.

The Moment That Changed My Perspective

One of the moments that stayed with me was my visit to Modern Cancer Hospital Guangzhou. Walking through the hospital was not just a work trip. It was the first time I saw, up close, how an entire system revolves around patients who are navigating one of the most uncertain chapters of their lives. It was not just about treatment rooms, equipment, or medical expertise. It was also about the conversations happening in consultation rooms and the waiting areas and the way doctors explained options to people who were trying to process life-changing information.

That visit helped me see cancer care differently. It is not simply about treatment. It is about guiding people through a long and often overwhelming journey. Patients move through stages of diagnosis, decisions, treatment, side effects, and recovery, and along the way they need clarity, reassurance, and someone who can help them understand what comes next.

Seeing Cancer Care Beyond Treatment

What stayed with me was not the technology or the procedures, but the conversations whereby complex information had to be conveyed into something understandable and where patients needed both facts and reassurance at the same time.

It made me realise that medicine, especially in fields like oncology, is as much about guidance as it is about treatment.

Why Healthcare Still Shapes My Daily Work

Even today, although I now work in a digital marketing agency, my day-to-day work remains deeply connected to healthcare. My main clients are hospital brands, which means I regularly research medical trends, diseases, and patient concerns and transform those insights into educational content for hospital websites. Staying immersed in this work keeps me closely aware of how patients seek understanding, how families search for reassurance, and how important clear communication becomes when people are facing uncertainty.

Through this ongoing exposure, I began to notice what resonates most strongly with me. It is not the technical side of medicine or the procedures themselves. What draws me in is the role of helping people navigate critical life chapters and understand what is happening to them.

Note: This caricature reflects what I do most days: working with data trends, healthcare content strategy and planning, usually with a laptop open and coffee within reach. I spend a lot of time thinking about how to turn information into something useful, clear, and meaningful. Still learning, still building, and very much enjoying the process. 

 

The Question That Made Me Reflect

At one point, I found myself wondering what specialty I might have chosen if life had taken me into medicine. The answer that came to mind was oncology, or something related to chronic care. It was not because I was drawn to the disease itself or to clinical interventions. It was because oncology represents a space where doctors accompany patients over time, helping them understand their situation, weigh difficult choices, and move forward step by step.

Realising What Truly Resonates

When I reflected on that thought more carefully, I realised that what appealed to me was not the specialty title, but the sense of being a steady guide when life becomes uncertain. That instinct is less about medicine and more about purpose. It is about helping people make sense of complex information, supporting them through decisions, and making difficult journeys feel more navigable.

Guiding From Outside the Consultation Room

In many ways, I have come to see that this guiding role can exist beyond the consultation room. Healthcare communication, when done responsibly, is not just about marketing or messaging. It shapes how patients first encounter information, how they interpret their options, and how confident they feel in seeking care. Clear content can reduce fear. Thoughtful explanations can empower families. Well-structured patient journeys can make an overwhelming system feel more understandable.

This perspective has changed how I see my own work. I no longer think of it only in terms of campaigns or deliverables. I see it as contributing, in a different but meaningful way, to how people experience care during vulnerable moments in their lives.

While clinicians guide one patient at a time, those working within healthcare systems and communication channels have the opportunity to improve the journey for many more.

What This Means for the Way I See My Work Now

Looking back, my visit to Modern Cancer Hospital Guangzhou was one of the ignition points for this realisation. It helped me understand that what matters most to me is not simply working in healthcare but being part of work that supports people through significant chapters of their lives. Whether that happens in a hospital consultation room or through clearer communication that reaches thousands, the intention remains the same.

I may not wear a white coat, but I have come to recognise that the instinct to guide, clarify, and support is still very much part of what I do. And perhaps that is what truly defines the kind of work that stays with us.

Celebratory Meals at Shinmapo & Kung Jung Korean Restaurants

My Recent Realisation

I realised I no longer celebrate milestones the way I once did. There was a time when achievements felt incomplete unless they were announced, shared, or marked in a visible way. These days, I find myself doing the opposite. I tend to let the moment settle before deciding whether it needs to be explained at all.

Recently, two Korean meals (one at Shinmapo and another at Kung Jung) became those markers for me. Not in an obvious way but they simply arrived at the right time, where I am more aware of how far I have come, and more selective about what deserves my energy.

The Down-to-Earth Vibe of Shinmapo

Shinmapo felt familiar and grounding. The food was hearty and uncomplicated, the kind that does not demand attention but offers comfort through consistency. Think KBBQ pork in different cuts, refillable banchan, and plenty of kimchi.

There is something reassuring about meals like this, especially when they are shared with friends. They remind you that steadiness is a form of strength, and achievements do not always have to be impressive to be meaningful. Happiness, when shared, is happiness gained.

The Refined Vibe of Kung Jung

Kung Jung, on the other hand, carried a different tone. The experience was more refined and more composed. Think Hanwoo beef, pollack, beef ribs, yukhoe (Korean-style beef tartare). It was mostly measured and intentional, much like the mindset I find myself in now. There was no rush or the need to prove anything. Just be present.

Embracing the Co-Existence

What struck me was not the contrast between the two restaurants, but how naturally they coexisted within the same period of my life. Familiarity and growth do not cancel each other out. In this season, I am learning that it is possible to hold both and to appreciate where I am now.

These meals did not feel like celebrations in the traditional sense. They felt more like acknowledgements. A recognition that something has shifted, that certain chapters have closed, and I have come to appreciate this quieter way of marking time.

Not every win needs to be explained. Some are meant to be quietly celebrated and fully owned. Period.

This Was Never a Detour

Once Upon A Time in Secondary School

After SPM, I applied to nursing school in USM and was accepted.

I remember that moment clearly. It felt right. It felt certain. But my mother said NO, and that was the end of that path, at least for then.

So I stayed. I did my STPM. I continued studying pure science subjects. It wasn't easy. Life wasn't exactly great at home, but that's another story to tell.

Graduated from University of Malaya (UM)

I entered University of Malaya and graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Education (Honours) with Distinction, majoring in Biology with a minor in Chemistry. I was very proud that I did well.

My Career Path Throughout the Years

Somewhere along the way, my career took me into marketing.

To an outsider, it might look like a sharp turn. To me, it felt more like translation. I learned how to communicate, influence, build systems, and tell stories. These are skills that later found their way back into healthcare in unexpected forms. I worked closely with medical institutions, health services, and patient-facing platforms. For a long time, that felt like home.

Before enrolling in my Master of Marketing, I almost chose a Master of Public Health instead. I remember hesitating. Not because I lacked interest, but because I questioned legitimacy. I wasn't a doctor. My professional experience lived elsewhere. So I chose the path that aligned most neatly with my resume.

That choice made sense. And yet, the question never fully went away.

My Recent Outlook

More recently, I noticed myself looking again. This time at micro-credentials, short courses, certification programmes, anything that would allow me to re-enter the healthcare landscape without uprooting my life. Not to start over, but to reconnect.

That was how I found myself enrolling in a chaperone and companionship course focused on ageing and caregiving. And later, being accepted into a formal programme on ageing and geriatric rehabilitation, a course I will take in a later season, when timing allows.

Am I Complicating Things?

For a while, I wondered if I was complicating things.

But then I realised something important:

This was never a detour.

From nursing school to science education, from public health curiosity to healthcare work, from caregiving to geriatric learning: the thread has always been there. What changed were the forms, shaped by family, feasibility, responsibility, and season of life.

I am no longer trying to become who I wanted to be at eighteen.

I am becoming who I can be now, with clarity, maturity, and intention.

Some callings do not disappear when they are deferred. They wait patiently until we are ready to hold them properly.

Learning to Care, Before We Have To

The following reflection builds on an earlier piece about finding my way back to healthcare; not by changing careers, but by integrating care into how I live.

Malaysia, an ageing nation.

Malaysia is changing quietly, steadily, and in ways that will touch almost every family. We are now considered an ageing nation, and alongside that shift comes a reality many of us are only beginning to confront: caregiving is no longer optional, distant, or theoretical.

After reflecting on my own relationship with healthcare and why I've been drawn back to it, this post moves from reflection to action, and why I chose to start learning how to care, before circumstances force us to.

Conversations around me.

Lately, when I speak to friends with ageing parents, the same sentence keeps appearing in different forms: "It's not easy to find a caretaker who can take care of my parents well."

Good and trusted caretakers and home nurses who can come to the house are not only difficult to find; they can be costly in the long run. Many families are navigating dementia, Parkinson's, mobility loss, post-stroke recovery, or the slow erosion of independence that comes with age. Almost everyone I know has some version of this story unfolding in their home.

It is not only my friends. Many of my in-laws' peers are living with some form of cancer, diabetes, heart disease, relapses, and chronic conditions - whether being actively treated or quietly endured.

A quiet realisation.

And slowly, it becomes impossible to ignore the truth:

My in-laws are ageing.

One day, my husband will age too.

And so will I.

This awareness has shifted something in me.

I am not a doctor, and at this stage of life, I don't need to be. What I do need is the ability to respond calmly, competently, and compassionately; someone who does not freeze when an elderly parent falls, forgets, weakens, or needs help with the most basic human tasks.

I want at least one person in the household who understands ageing, who can respond with calm, knowledge, and compassion.

Taking action.

That desire led me to register for the "Chaperon & Companionship Course: The First Step in Caregiving" by Care Concierge Malaysia. It's a practical programme that introduces essential skills such as basic health assessment, patient communication, observation, mobility support, and personal care.

Around the same time, I was accepted into a formal programme on Ageing & Geriatric Rehabilitation. Although I had to decline the intake due to timing, the decision to return in the later part of the year felt intentional rather than disappointing. Some learning needs space. Some knowledge deserves readiness. This is one of them.

Getting myself ready.

2026 will be a year of grounding - finishing my Master of Marketing, deepening my work, and continuing to learn through hands-on caregiving exposure.

By 2027, I shall be ready to step into structured geriatric training with clarity, intention, and emotional maturity. Not because I am certain this will become my full-time path, but because I believe some knowledge is too important to postpone.

Caregiving, to me, is not a career move or a credential chase. It is a form of readiness for my family and for the realities that will arrive whether we plan for them or not.

In a society that is growing older, choosing to learn how to care is not dramatic. It is practical, humane, and something I would rather do early, calmly, and with intention before we have to.