BENEATH the soft evening skies of Johor Baru, where sea breezes murmur against the shore, a small group moves with quiet purpose.
They are the Palliative Care Association of Johor Baru (PCAJB) — an unsung fellowship of nurses, volunteers and doctors whose mission is to make sure that no one faces their final journey alone.
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Founded in 2007, PCAJB has become a lifeline for hundreds. Its work is not about curing illness, but about restoring dignity — easing pain, comforting hearts and reminding patients that even at the edge of life, there is still love, meaning and grace.
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“Many come to us when the medical path has ended,” says Sonny Lim Pang Tew, the association’s president.
His calm voice carries both conviction and tenderness, as he adds solemnly: “Our role is not to give up, but to transform pain into peace; to walk beside, to hold a trembling hand and to speak when silence feels too heavy.”
From sunrise to sundown, PCAJB’s small team, comprising three palliative care nurses, a locum doctor, an office manager, administrative staff and volunteers, tends to those with life-limiting illnesses. They visit homes where the air is thick with worry, teaching families how to care, how to comfort and how to let love do what medicine no longer can.
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Voice low, Lim explains that their mission is both medical and deeply human: pain and symptom management, emotional and spiritual support, and practical help for home care and bereavement. It is work sustained by compassion — and by a modest annual budget of about RM480,000.
Nearly 80 per cent of it goes to the medical team, the heart of the association’s service. The rest fuels medicine, training and outreach programmes, ensuring that awareness grows and communities learn that palliative care is not about the ending, but also about honouring every remaining day with humanity.
LIFE MATTERS
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Around the world, an estimated 56.8 million people need palliative care each year, yet only 14 per cent receive it. In Johor Baru alone, PCAJB is servicing more than 500 patients annually.
Many are cancer patients; others suffer from heart or neurological diseases. But all share one need — comfort.
“Sometimes,” reflects committee member Teoh Cheng Siang, “the hardest service isn’t medical at all. It is just being present — staying when fear whispers, when grief overwhelms and when hope really feels fragile”.
He remembers one daughter who wept beside her mother’s bed, feeling helpless. “We held her hands, showed her how to comfort and to still love,” he says softly, adding: “Those small gestures restore human dignity.”
At PCAJB, holistic care means tending not just to the body, but to the spirit. Medicine soothes pain; counselling eases fear; listening heals silence.
Volunteers visit homes not only with equipment, but with empathy as well — offering a gentle presence in moments when words are too much or too few.
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Teoh admits: “It breaks your heart. Sometimes, a patient confides they would rather slip away quickly than endure the endless pain. You sit with them, you listen, and somehow, that presence makes the weight a little lighter.”
Though their work is steeped in compassion, it is anchored in professionalism.
The association operates under the Health Ministry’s licence, adhering to strict medical and ethical standards. Its nurses attend regular training and international workshops.
Brows furrowing, Lim poses: “What good is compassion when without skills, it fails in the darkest hour? We must know our craft — not just as healers of bodies, but of hearts too.”
SANCTUARY OF HOPE
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Under Lim’s leadership, PCAJB has also become a place of learning. Medical students and young doctors often shadow its team, discovering that medicine’s final lesson is not always about saving life, but about honouring it until the end.
Yet the flame of compassion needs fuel. Each visit, each dose of pain relief and each counselling session costs money. Many patients arrive after exhausting their savings on treatment. For them, the association becomes a sanctuary of hope — freely given and never withheld.
His tone urgent, Lim says: “We want to make sure no home becomes a place of isolation and no family will be left to suffer in silence. But care costs money. Without support, our flame simply flickers in the wind.”
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Solemnly, Teoh adds: “Every time a nurse rings a patient’s doorbell, it reminds me of our donors’ kindness. Their gifts make homes warmer, hearts lighter and fear smaller. We must not let that bell fall silent.”
Despite the emotional toll, the team celebrates countless small victories.
A patient once too weak to smile now whispers a thank you. A caregiver learns to comfort instead of crumble. A volunteer sits in stillness beside a bed — and that alone is enough. These moments, Lim says, are their measure of success: not in cures, but in peace, love and understanding.
Loss, of course, is never far away. Some patients leave before dawn; some families grieve in quiet rooms. But even in endings, there is grace. “When someone dies,” shares Teoh, “they leave behind more than a body. They leave stories — of laughter, of touch, of whispered farewells. When we honour those stories, we make sure death doesn’t erase the beauty of life.”
COMPASSION IN ACTION
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Recently, PCAJB hosted its “Compassion in Action” charity dinner — an evening of gratitude and giving to expand their work and train more caregivers. Amid the gentle clink of cutlery and the glow of candlelight, guests were reminded of one simple truth — that dignity should never depend on wealth, but on the kindness of a community.
That community spirit was embodied by Dr Angamuthu Rajoo, PCAJB’s founding president, whose vision shaped the organisation from a humble dream into a trusted haven.
“Dr Anga’s leadership was never about prestige,” says manager Nancy Yee, adding: “He led with humility, always placing patients and families at the heart of every decision.”
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Though he has passed the baton, his spirit continues to guide — a quiet reminder that true leadership begins with empathy.
As twilight settles silently over Johor Baru, the sea glimmers faintly in the distance — and somewhere, a PCAJB nurse knocks gently on a patient’s door. Inside, a soft light burns against the darkness: the light of care freely given and of dignity fiercely protected.
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With a hopeful smile, Lim says: “Just imagine a Johor Baru where everyone’s final days are filled with care and not fear. And where dying is not lonely, but embraced with love.”
For the hardworking team at PCAJB, that vision is already alive — glowing softly under Johor’s stars, steady and strong. A light that, in its quiet way, may never fade.
© New Straits Times Press (M) Bhd
