I Tried to Stay Healthy. Here’s Why It Still Feels Financially Punishing.

Staying Healthy Is Expensive. So Why Does the System Still Reward Illness?

Let me start by saying this is not a perspective from an insurance agent, financial planner, or healthcare provider. This is purely a reflection from someone living within the system, paying for it and trying to make sense of it.

Because in my opinion, the reality looks like this, even if you don't fully agree with me:

Health screening? Expensive.

Healthy food? Expensive.

Gym memberships / personal training? Expensive.

Health supplements? Expensive.

Insurance premiums? Increasing year on year.

And yet, when it comes to actually using insurance, many of the things that help us stay healthy aren't claimable at all.

When Prevention Becomes Personal

This realisation became even more apparent as I started paying closer attention to my own health, particularly in this phase of life.

Perimenopause is not a disease, but it is a transition that affects energy, sleep, mood, metabolism, and overall wellbeing.

Managing it often involves regular monitoring, follow-up consultations with specialist doctors, hormonal support, and lifestyle adjustments. None of which are typically considered "claimable".

So here lies the disconnect: you are not sick, but you are also not entirely "fine". And the system, as it stands, does not quite know what to do with that in-between space.

The System Isn't Designed for Prevention

Most insurance systems are built around a very specific idea: you can only claim after something has gone wrong, which means you can claim when you are diagnosed with a disease, when treatment becomes necessary, and when treatment costs become significant.

Which also means you cannot claim when you are trying to detect problems early, manage long-term health proactively, or reduce future risks.

In other words, the system is designed for intervention, not prevention, and this creates a strange paradox.

The Prevention Paradox

From a logical standpoint, prevention makes sense. Like this: early detection → simpler treatment → lower cost → fewer large claims

So in theory, encouraging preventive care should benefit both individuals and insurers. But in practice, preventive care sits outside the system.

Why? Because preventive care requires upfront spending, doesn't guarantee immediate outcomes, and is harder to standardise across populations. Whereas treatment is clearly defined, measurable, and easier to price and insure.

So instead of a system that rewards staying well, we end up with one that primarily responds to illness.

The Real Cost of "Staying Healthy"

What many of us are experiencing today is a shift. Health is no longer just about treating disease.

It's about maintaining metabolic health, hormonal balance, mental wellbeing, and long-term quality of life.

But maintaining all of this often comes with out-of-pocket costs. And over time, it starts to feel like, "I'm paying to stay healthy… and I'm still paying in case I get sick."

That double layer of cost is where the frustration comes from.

So What Can We Do Within the Limits of the System?

Well, the system won't change overnight, but I guess how we respond to it can. Instead of viewing this as an either-or situation, i.e., "insurance or prevention", it's more helpful to see them as two separate roles.

Insurance as Protection, Not Everyday Use

Insurance should be best understood as protection against catastrophic events, i.e., the unexpected, high-cost situations that we cannot plan for. It's not designed to cover routine health maintenance.

Prevention as Personal Investment

Preventive care, which includes health screenings, supplements, and gym sessions, becomes a form of long-term investment in quality of life, especially in life stages like perimenopause, where the goal is not just to treat illness but to maintain stability and function.

Be Selective, Not Exhaustive

Not every supplement, test, or trend is necessary. Focusing on evidence-based screenings, essential lifestyle habits, and medically guided interventions can help reduce unnecessary spending.

Create a "Health Fund" Mindset

Instead of reacting to costs, I read that some people allocate a specific budget for health maintenance, treating it as a planned expense rather than a recurring frustration.

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A System That Hasn't Caught Up (Yet)

Healthcare systems around the world are slowly shifting toward prevention. But change takes time.

In the meantime, some of us are navigating this in-between space. We are more aware of our health than ever before but still operating within systems designed for a different era.

The reality is, taking care of our health today requires both protection for the unexpected

and intentional investment in the everyday.

This is not a conclusion from the industry. It is a perspective from someone living within it.

It may not feel fair. But it is, for now, the reality we work within. And perhaps the real shift is this: not waiting for the system to reward prevention, but choosing it anyway.

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A Visit That Made Me Feel Seen and Understood About Perimenopause

So I have written about something many women quietly experience – the moment when burnout does not quite feel like burnout anymore. If you missed it, you can read it here: "The Subtle Changes of Your Forties: When Burnout Might Actually Be Perimenopause".

Taking the Next Step

After recognising that some of the changes I was experiencing could be linked to perimenopause, I decided to do something about it. So I went for a consultation with Dr. Premitha Damodaran, a menopause specialist at Pantai Hospital Kuala Lumpur.

I went in with a list of symptoms: mood swings, sleep disruptions, brain fog, cholesterol shifts, etc., but I also went in with a quiet question: is this really what I think it is?

A Consultation That Looked at the Whole Picture

What I appreciated most about the session was how the consultation itself was not rushed. Instead, it felt like a thoughtful conversation. 

She asked about different aspects of my health, not just one isolated symptom. We spoke about my cholesterol levels; menstrual cycle – how regular or irregular it has been; and weight changes. She also asked about my Mirena IUD and why I chose to have it.

But the conversation did not stop there. Beyond that, she explored things that are often easy to dismiss, such as my sleep patterns, mood changes, memory, and even whether I had any joint pain or bowel changes. These things are usually ignored or dismissed, but they are actually part of the bigger picture.

Our body does not work in isolation. Everything is connected. Hence, it makes total sense to also look at all these different aspects of health.

Understanding What My Body Is Already Doing

One of the most reassuring parts of the consultation was realising that my body is not "falling apart". Without going into too much detail, what I wanted to say is that the narrative was changed from "something is wrong" to "something needs to be balanced".

Starting with the Foundation: Sleep

Interestingly, we are not trying to fix everything at once. The first focus is sleep. She explained that improving sleep can influence many other areas such as energy levels, mood, and even the ability to stay consistent with lifestyle habits.

Start with the foundation, and let the rest build from there.

We also spoke about exercise. Not as something I need to force immediately, but as something to build into gradually, especially weight training, once my sleep and energy improve.

There is a time to push, and there is a time to restore. Not as a pressure to immediately "do more", but as a next step when my body is ready. This perspective stayed with me.

Rather than trying to fix everything at once, we start with something that supports the body more holistically. And sometimes, restoration needs to come first.

Walking Away Feeling Supported

If my previous article was about awareness, this experience was about reassurance.

There is something deeply comforting about being heard, understood, and guided with clarity. It reminded me that navigating perimenopause does not have to be confusing or isolating. With the right support, it becomes something we can understand, manage, and even learn from.

I am still at the beginning of this journey. There will likely be adjustments along the way, like new observations, new questions, and perhaps new insights.

But for now, I feel more grounded. Not because everything is solved, but because I understand a little more about what my body is going through. And I truly believe that understanding is the most important first step.

Watch Dr. Premitha's short video about perimenopause.

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The Subtle Changes of Your Forties: When Burnout Might Actually Be Perimenopause

A Personal Observation

I have begun noticing changes in myself that I could not immediately explain for the past 4-5 years, but they have intensified since last year.

My sleep feels different. I couldn't fall asleep fast enough. I need a moment longer to recall a word. Situations that I would normally handle without much thought feel a little more draining than before. My brain feels like it's in the drain. Lots of things could trigger an onslaught of emotions. I feel challenged in many ways, and I dislike the feeling of not being in control.

At first, I assumed it was simply the result of a busy season of life. Like many women in their forties, I am balancing work, studies, family, and the usual responsibilities that come with adulthood.

But as I started paying closer attention, I realised these changes were not random. They seemed to follow a pattern that many women eventually encounter: the stage of perimenopause, which is the hormonal transition before menopause.

Perimenopause can begin several years before menopause itself, and hormonal fluctuations during this time can affect sleep, mood, metabolism, and cognitive function. Ouch!

Five Signs You May Be Entering Perimenopause

Here are five signs that are often mistaken for burnout but may actually be related to perimenopause.

1. You Notice More "Brain Fog" Than Before

Many women begin to notice changes in memory or concentration during perimenopause. You might take longer to recall certain words, forget why you entered a room, or feel that your thinking is slightly slower than before. For women like me who rely heavily on mental sharpness at work or in daily life, this can feel worrying.

Research shows that cognitive symptoms such as brain fog, slower recall, and reduced focus are common during perimenopause and are linked to hormonal fluctuations affecting brain function. The brain contains many receptors for oestrogen, and fluctuations in this hormone can influence memory and processing speed.

2. Your Tolerance for Stress Feels Lower

Another common experience during perimenopause is a change in how the body responds to stress. Hormonal fluctuations can affect the body's stress-response system, including how the nervous system regulates cortisol and emotional responses.

Situations that once felt manageable may now feel more draining. You may find yourself feeling overwhelmed more easily, especially when juggling multiple responsibilities at work or at home. This is so true.

3. You Have Difficulty Falling Asleep

Sleep disruption is one of the earliest and most overlooked signs of perimenopause. As Dr. Mary Claire Haver highlights, many women experience a "hidden sleep crisis" during this stage, often mistaking it for stress rather than a hormonal shift.

Some women find that they feel tired but have difficulty falling asleep. Others may notice that their sleep schedule shifts or that they wake earlier than usual. For me, I couldn't fall asleep as fast as I wanted it to be. Sometimes I could lie in bed for two hours before being able to fall asleep. One reason for this is that progesterone, a hormone that has calming and sleep-supporting effects, may fluctuate or decline during this stage of life.

4. Your Body Stores Weight Differently

Many women are surprised to notice weight changes during their forties, even when their diet and activity levels remain the same. Experts note that visceral fat increases even without lifestyle changes due to hormonal shifts.

Hormonal decline can lead to weight changes and fat redistribution, particularly abdominal fat. Oestrogen plays a role in how the body distributes fat. Changes in oestrogen levels can influence how the body stores fat, which is why many women notice increased weight around the abdomen during the perimenopause stage. Clothes may fit differently even if overall weight has not changed dramatically.

5. Your Emotions Feel More Sensitive at Times

Many women report feeling "not quite themselves" emotionally during early stages. Mood swings, irritability, and emotional changes are common symptoms of perimenopause. You might feel more irritable than usual or react more strongly to situations that previously felt minor.

These emotional shifts can come and go as hormone levels fluctuate throughout the cycle. This fluctuation affects the brain chemicals that regulate mood, including serotonin and GABA. When hormone levels fluctuate, mood regulation can become more sensitive.

Why High-Performing Women Often Notice These Changes More

Interestingly, many women who notice these changes most clearly are those who are used to functioning at a high mental and emotional capacity.

Women in their forties are often balancing demanding careers, family responsibilities, and multiple commitments. They are accustomed to being organised, efficient, and mentally sharp. Because of this, even small shifts in sleep, memory, stress tolerance, or energy can become noticeable.

When these changes appear, it's easy to assume that something is wrong or that burnout is setting in. However, hormonal fluctuations during perimenopause can affect several systems in the body at the same time, including sleep regulation, cognitive processing, mood stability, and metabolism.

For women who have spent years managing complex schedules and responsibilities, these subtle changes may feel especially surprising.

To be very honest, I was taken aback by these changes, particularly the feeling that they were no longer entirely within my control.

Taking Action

Because of that, I began reading and researching to better understand what was happening in my body. I needed this knowledge not just for information, but to reduce unnecessary self-criticism and self-doubt.

I'm not labelling myself or limiting what I can do. I'm creating awareness. And with awareness, we can begin to adapt our routines, priorities, and self-care in ways that support our well-being more sustainably.

It also made me reflect on something else. For many years, women's health experiences were not openly discussed. Conversations around hormonal changes were often minimised or simply not prioritised.

But times are changing. More women today are beginning to speak, share, and seek understanding, not just for themselves but for those who come after them. In many ways, we are part of a generation that is learning to listen to our bodies more closely and to give language to experiences that were once kept quiet.

That realisation led me to take the next step: to speak with a menopause specialist and better understand what my body needs.

In this next post, I share what that consultation was like and why it made me feel more supported than I expected.

References

Menopause symptoms that may surprise you: What to watch for during perimenopause

Menopause and stress

The Girls Aren't Sleeping

Menopause Masterclass: Hormones, Brain Fog, Weight & Mental Health with Dr. Mary Claire Haver

How symptoms of perimenopause and menopause can impact mental health

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In Another Universe, I Have Four Animals

Sometimes I imagine a slightly different version of my life. Well, I believe we all carry small alternate universes in our minds, like the café we never opened, the house by the lake we never bought, and the pets we never adopted.

In one of mine, four animals share my home: Sherlock, Sheldon, Shelby, and Shiloh. Each of them carries a distinct personality, and if I'm honest, I suspect each of them represents a different part of me.

Sherlock, the Curious One

Sherlock is always investigating something: a rustle in the garden, a new bag brought into the house, a sound that most people would ignore. Nothing escapes his attention. He moves through the world with quiet curiosity, piecing together clues that others might miss.

If I look closely, Sherlock reminds me of the curious part of me; the part that looks at trends, behaviour, and patterns and wonders, "Why does this happen? What does it mean?" Sherlock notices everything. And perhaps that is why I understand him best.

Sheldon, the Keeper of Order

Sheldon prefers structure. His world runs on quiet precision. The warmth of the terrarium lamp turns on at the same hour each day. Feeding time follows a familiar rhythm. Even the small cave he retreats to remains perfectly positioned where he expects it to be.

If something changes, like a shifted rock or a slightly different light, Sheldon notices and quietly evaluates the disturbance. There is something comforting about that predictability. While the rest of the household moves with noise and energy, Sheldon lives by steady patterns. Day after day, the same gentle routines create a small, controlled universe within glass walls.

If I look closely, Sheldon reminds me of the part of me who needs structure. Structure is not the enemy of creativity. To me, structure is what allows everything else to function.

Shelby, the One Who Understands People

Shelby has a quiet gift for reading the room. He notices when someone arrives tired from a long day, when a visitor lingers a little longer by the door, and when the energy in the house shifts in subtle ways. His welcome is warm but never overwhelming. A gentle wag of the tail, a soft presence beside whoever needs it.

If I look closely, Shelby reminds me of the part of me who views genuine connection as not having to be loud or obvious. Sometimes it is simply the ability to notice people, to recognise when someone needs comfort, conversation, or just quiet companionship.

Shiloh, the Quiet Observer

Shiloh spends a lot of time by the window. He watches the street, the trees, and the changing light of the afternoon. While the others move around the house with energy and purpose, Shiloh seems content simply to observe.

In the evenings, he walks beside me slowly, matching my pace without pulling ahead. There is something peaceful about his presence.

If I look closely, Shiloh reminds me of the part of me who values quiet downtime. Not every moment needs to be filled with activity. Some moments are meant simply for reflection.

A Small Ecosystem of Personalities

When I imagine this household, I realise something interesting. Each of these animals reflects a different way of moving through the world.

Sherlock, curious and analytical.

Sheldon, structured and dependable.

Shelby, warm and generous.

Shiloh, calm and reflective.

Together, they form a kind of balance. Perhaps that is why the image feels so comforting. Because somewhere in that imagined home, all those parts coexist peacefully.

The Universe That Exists Only in Imagination

In reality, I do not have these animals. Life sometimes takes us down paths where certain things, even lovely things, are simply not part of the journey.

But every now and then, I visit this alternate universe in my mind.

A place where mornings begin with the sound of paws on the floor. Where Sherlock investigates the garden, Sheldon rests quietly beneath the warmth of his lamp, Shelby greets the day with enthusiasm, and Shiloh watches the sunrise beside me.

It is not a grand life. Just a quiet one, filled with companionship and small, warm moments. And perhaps that is enough.

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Preparing for the Care We Rarely Talk About

I registered for the "The First Step in Caregiving: Chaperone & Companionship" course at Care Concierge Academy with no particular expectations. I assumed it would be practical and instructional. I thought I would simply learn some guidelines on caring for elderly family members and understanding when something constitutes a medical emergency.

What I did not expect was how personal the experience would feel.

More Than Just Technical Skills

The course was not limited to caring for older adults. It covered anyone who might be bedridden or dependent on others for daily needs, including stroke patients.

We learnt the basics of handwashing; how to wear surgical masks and gloves properly; how to perform perineal care, change urine bags, and change adult nappies; and how to safely transfer someone from a bed to a wheelchair and into a car. We were taught how to use a gait belt during mobility transfers and what it means to chaperone someone during hospital visits and medical appointments.

These were technical skills. Necessary ones.

But somewhere in between the demonstrations and instructions, something shifted in me.

The Moment It Became Personal

During the session on perineal care, I felt an unexpected sense of helplessness. It was not because the procedure was difficult to understand. It was because I suddenly imagined myself in that position one day.

If I were old and bedridden, how would I allow myself to be cleaned and handled by someone else? How would I accept being touched by strangers? How far could I hold on to my dignity without feeling shitty?

I realised how much I dislike asking for help from strangers. The thought of depending entirely on someone else for basic hygiene unsettled me more than I expected. It made me confront a version of vulnerability that I had not fully considered before.

Understanding Dementia Differently

The course also touched on dementia. We learned that patients may refuse to eat, may behave unpredictably, and can deteriorate in ways that are painful to witness. They are not difficult because they choose to be. Dementia is a disease that gradually eats away at the brain. The behaviour is not personality; it is pathology.

That reframing matters. It shifts frustration into compassion. It shifts judgement into understanding.

Why I Signed Up in the First Place

I attended this course because I wanted to be the first in my family to know what to look out for. I wanted to be able to recognise when something is a medical emergency and when it is not. I wanted to understand how to care for my loved ones before immediately turning to external professional caregivers. I wanted to feel prepared.

A geriatric specialist once told me that in an emergency, I should just go to the hospital. That advice is correct. Hospitals are for emergencies.

The Part No One Talks About: After the Hospital

But what happens after the hospital is what concerns me most.

The discharge summary is handed over. The medication list is explained. The follow-up appointment is scheduled. Then the patient goes home.

Home is where the real care begins.

Who helps with toileting?

Who ensures proper hygiene?

Who notices subtle changes?

Who handles mobility transfers?

Who sits through the waiting at medical appointments?

Who understands when agitation is part of dementia and not defiance?

That "after" is rarely discussed openly.

Yet it is the reality many families quietly navigate.

Working closely with hospitals over the years has given me insight into patient journeys, discharge processes, and continuity of care from a systems perspective.

But sitting in this caregiving class made me feel the emotional weight of what those transitions actually mean at home. It moved the concept of "post-discharge care" from professional understanding to personal responsibility.

What Shifted in Me

What shifted in me was not fear, although there was some of that. It was a deeper awareness of responsibility.

When the time comes, how ready will I be for my family? How ready will I be for myself?

Caregiving is not only about physical tasks. It is about preserving dignity when independence is no longer possible. It is about balancing clinical necessity with emotional sensitivity. It is about being steady when someone else feels vulnerable.

Preparedness is not only medical knowledge. It is emotional readiness. It is the willingness to step into uncomfortable spaces. It is acknowledging that one day, roles may reverse.

Midlife, Readiness, and Contribution

Perhaps this is also what midlife begins to look like. It is not only about career growth or personal ambition. It is about contribution. It is about quietly preparing for responsibilities that may not yet have arrived but eventually will.

We often prepare for promotions, investments, and milestones. We rarely prepare for frailty, dependency, or decline. Yet these are just as much a part of life.

I do not know what the future holds for my parents, my loved ones, or myself. But I know this: when the time comes, I want to contribute meaningfully. I want to respond with knowledge instead of panic. I want to act with steadiness instead of avoidance.

The hospital may handle the emergency.

But the care after that, the quiet, daily, intimate care, is what truly sustains a person.

And that is what I am learning to take seriously.

Part of the #CareAndCalling series

#CareAndCalling is a series about preparing for the responsibilities we rarely talk about, and recognising that care is not a detour but a calling.

– Finding My Way Back to Healthcare

– Learning to Care, Before We Have To

– This Was Never a Detour

– What Healthcare Has Quietly Taught Me

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Year of the Horse: In Between Family, Work, and Small Wins

Chinese New Year has always meant reunion dinners and festive celebrations. As I grow older, I find that it also becomes a reflection of the different roles I carry in life.

There was the familiar Lou Sang with family. Everyone leaned in as we tossed the colourful mix of vegetables, crackers, and abalone into the air. It was fun, slightly chaotic, and exactly how it should be. Family gatherings remind me that beyond deadlines, projects, and responsibilities, there is a foundation that stays constant. Traditions like this are simple, but they anchor the year.

Then there were Lou Sangs with colleagues and clients. One photo captures it well: multiple pairs of chopsticks meeting in the centre of the plate, waiting to toss everything as high as we could! It was a reminder that work is not just about deliverables and targets. It is about people. It is about partnerships built over time, conversations that go beyond emails, and shared meals that make professional relationships more human.

Attending the company’s Chinese New Year dinner party also felt meaningful in its own way. Seeing everyone dressed up, relaxed, and celebrating together allowed me to step back from the usual work mode and appreciate the team behind the projects. Moments like these help us reconnect as people first.

There was also a small but memorable surprise. I won a Uniqlo gift card during the lucky draw! Woohoo! It may seem like a small win, but I have come to appreciate small wins like these more deeply. They are reminders that joy does not always come from grand achievements. Sometimes it comes in unexpected envelopes handed to you at the end of a dinner. See how big my smile was!

Walking through Pavilion Bukit Jalil (it was a planned date with hubby hehehe) and seeing the elaborate Chinese New Year decorations added another layer to the season. The red lanterns, festive displays, and crowd gathering to watch lion dance performance made the celebration feel communal. It was not just about personal rituals or company events. It was about being part of a larger rhythm that happens across the city during this time of year.

The Year of the Horse is said to symbolise strength, endurance, and forward momentum. As we continue into this new year, I hope: To show up for the people who matter. To build meaningful work. To appreciate small wins. And to remember that sometimes, the most valuable moments are the ones that happen in between.

Happy Chinese New Year.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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 "Chaperone & 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.

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