What led you to focus on cancer?
While I’m a physician, it wasn’t my profession that led me to cancer – it was a lot more personal than that. In my early career I was training to be a pediatrician, but family experiences moved me towards cancer.
I come from a family of doctors. My father was a cancer specialist — the first in the family and he founded the National Cancer Society of Malaysia — and I grew up living in hospital quarters, with the HKL Cancer Department as my backyard. But my real exposure to cancer came through my mother. She was diagnosed with cancer at 40, and I was only five at the time. It was a traumatic experience watching her go through treatment. I remember spending time at University Hospital, which was the only place offering rehabilitation back then.
Mum couldn’t walk after her spinal tumour, and we grew up with the whispers of her living with cancer. She actually returned to work despite being physically disabled, semi-paralysed, and had challenges looking after herself. And then came breast cancer, followed by ovarian and colorectal cancer, all of which shaped my understanding of the diseases.
Later, when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was already working in the surgical ward. I became her caregiver in the hospital, sitting outside Ward 6. Patients would approach us with their own concerns—asking if they would wake up after anesthesia, if they were still “whole” after surgery. These weren’t medical questions; they were deeply personal and emotional ones. As a young doctor, it was an awakening. I started questioning how well we, as a family of doctors, had supported my mother beyond her medical needs. I realise we rarely addressed how she felt about it
That’s when I began to see the psychosocial aspect of cancer—something that wasn’t widely addressed at the time.
Then I had my own cancer scare – it was just before I left for the UK. A radiologist suggested I do a full checkup, and my first instinct was not to tell anyone. That moment of denial made me look at cancer in a different way. Around the same time, I had an opportunity to work with the National Cancer Society of Malaysia, and as soon as I started in 2000, I made a significant shift. One of my first initiatives was to introduce psychosocial support for cancer patients. I realised that cancer isn’t just a medical issue—it’s a social and community issue too.
It was a very different environment 25 years ago. Twenty-five years ago, the environment was very different. Due to the big gap in support, people living with cancer wouldn’t come forward unless we gave them an identity beyond a “cancer patient.” I also worked on raising funds for the HKL Oncology Department and was able to secure enough funding to start our Children’s Home of Hope. This was free accommodation for children with cancer as well as their caregivers from outside of Kuala Lumpur.
Then my father was ill, and I was interviewed by the board members to work permanently at NCSM. Eventually he passed away in 2006, and there was no one to fill the gap he left behind, so I stepped in.
I have no regrets about the path I took — this work has been driven by passion and circumstances. Working in a not-for-profit, on the ground, showed me how much needed to be done in primary healthcare, although my father had focused on clinical diagnostics and treatment. I also learned from him the importance of equitable healthcare and the direction it needs to take.
What do you find most rewarding about working with cancer patients?
The most rewarding part of working with cancer patients isn’t just about the medical outcomes. Of course, getting the right treatment, putting them on the right track, or even curing cancer is important. But for me, it’s about helping them realize they are not alone. Cancer is a terrifying disease with huge implications for both the patient and their family. But like any other disease, with the right support and knowledge, it can be managed. More than that, it’s about showing them that they can still have a good quality of life—they can laugh, share a smile, realize they have time, and even forget, if just for a moment, that they have cancer. It’s about helping them see that there is life outside of cancer.
One of the most fulfilling moments is when people come to the Resource & Wellness Centre for the first time. Many arrive carrying so much fear and hesitancy—you can feel the weight they carry. But once we sit down and start talking, explaining things, you can see that weight slowly lifting. Their perception changes, and with it, you can feel their weight lifted to an extent.
When I first joined NCSM, everything felt very clinical—even the logo at the time reflected that. No one really heard the good stories. That was something I wanted to change. I wanted to shift the focus toward giving hope and celebrating life, not just treating a disease.
It’s often the little things that help change the narrative, and I’m grateful that over the years, our message of giving hope and celebrating life has stayed true to that. That is our essence that drives everything we do at NCSM.
What advancements in cancer care are you most excited about?
One of the advancements I’m most excited about is the shift toward a more holistic, person-centred approach to cancer care. It’s no longer just about treating the disease—it’s about understanding what the patient, as a person, wants their outcomes to be. That perspective is so important, especially in cases where cancer cannot be cured. The focus then becomes helping the person live their life to the fullest, treating rather than curing the disease.
Cancer is now recognised as a non-communicable disease (NCD), much like heart disease or diabetes. With the right treatment and support, it can be managed. So the stigma and perception surrounding cancer should not be vastly different than that of any other long term disease. long-term illnesses. That’s something that needs to change.
What advice would you give to someone newly diagnosed with cancer?
My advice is to allow yourself to feel everything – the fear, the pain, the heartache. Don’t let cancer overwhelm you – there is always help and you are not alone in the journey. Yes, cancer is terrifying, but people are here to help you through every step, and will make your journey easier.
That said, everyone’s experience is different – it depends on them and where they are in life, so context is important. My key message is there is support, and you don’t have to walk through it by yourself.
How important are collaborative approaches in the ecosystem to advance cancer care and treatment?
Collaboration is absolutely essential in advancing cancer care and treatment—no one can do it alone. Just as a patient needs the support of their friends and family, the entire healthcare ecosystem must work together to provide seamless care. Cancer treatment is multidisciplinary — without a strong system in place, patients can easily fall through the gaps. Some may never return to the clinic simply due to a lack of support.
We know there are gaps, and that’s why collaboration is so critical. It’s not just about medical care—it’s about looking at every aspect of a patient’s journey, including financial support, transportation, and workplace security. Patients need to know they have a job to come back to, and workplaces need to understand how to support employees going through treatment. That kind of awareness and integration is part of a larger collaborative effort.
This also extends to those who donate, fund programs, and survivors who believe in our mission. Their lived experiences help shape the way we support others. At NCSM, we nurture collaboration because cancer care is not the responsibility of a single entity —it’s a shared effort. In many ways, NCSM is a community, a village in itself.
What are some milestones in your line of work that you are most proud of?
One of the milestones I’m most proud of is how we have transformed the Society into a more holistic and person-centric organisation. We’ve shifted from being mainly a medical organization to a true community organisation. This change in direction, philosophy, and the core values we live by has been incredibly meaningful to me, and it gives me joy.
And when I meet people, we support them not on just the medical aspects, their physical symptoms, but as human beings. We recognise them as first a person, and not as someone living with a disease.
More than anything, what makes me truly proud is knowing that the Society will continue to grow and evolve, regardless of whether I am here or not. It has grown beyond the vision or legacy of one person to that of many.
