Published on 3 September 2026

“To cure sometimes, to relieve often, to comfort always.”

This quotation by  Edward Livingston Trudeau was pasted on the office door of my family medicine mentor and tutor, the late Prof. Sam Fehrsen. It has stayed with me throughout my career.

When I reflect on my years as a primary healthcare doctor and family physician, some of the most fulfilling experiences have not been making an unusual diagnosis or finding the perfect treatment. They have been the privilege of walking alongside patients living with a life-limiting illness.

At medical school, much of our training focused on gathering enough information to make a diagnosis and decide on appropriate management.

The reality of primary care is much broader.

A large part of my work involves caring for people with already-diagnosed chronic conditions, where the emphasis is on managing illness in partnership with the patient. Increasingly, I also care for patients living with life-limiting conditions, whether cancer or organ failure. I work closely with our local hospice organisation and, at times, join the palliative care professional nurse on home visits.

Although I had previously worked with a hospice organisation with a residential facility for more than 10 years and have taught palliative care to postgraduate family medicine registrars, I recently felt the need to deepen and update my own knowledge. I enrolled in a 12-week online palliative care module through a local university.

Part of my motivation was practical: to keep learning about the relief of common symptoms and the complexities of end-of-life care.

But another motivation was more personal.

I have found it difficult at times to engage with patients and their families in conversations about what gives life meaning, what matters most to them, and what their preferences and wishes are as they approach the end of life.

The module has created a valuable community of learning, facilitated by experienced palliative care practitioners. Sharing experiences with colleagues has reminded me that these conversations are not simply about clinical knowledge. They require presence, humility, courage and a willingness to listen.

I am also a member of PALPRAC, the Association of Palliative Care Practitioners of South Africa, which brings together doctors, nurses, social workers and allied health professionals committed to improving the quality of life of people living with serious or life-limiting illnesses.

In his book Crossing the Creek: A Practical Guide to Understanding the Dying Process, Michael Holmes writes about the dying process as a transition—a time of resolution, learning and spiritual growth.

For me, caring for people at the end of life is an opportunity to walk alongside someone during one of the most profound transitions of their life.

And perhaps there is a reciprocal gift in that.

Every patient I accompany reminds me that, one day, I too will face my own transition. Their stories invite me to reflect not only on how I want to practise medicine, but also on how I want to live.