Niranjala Siriwardena, Cancer Survivor and Former Manager at PwC Australia, shared a post on LinkedIn:
“Apeksha National Cancer Hospital, Maharagama, Sri Lanka.
Today was a reality check.
There are places where no one cares who you work for, how many followers you have, or how polished your LinkedIn bio is.
In a cancer ward, nobody is talking about KPIs, promotions, or culture decks.
They’re talking about survival, not ‘resilience’ but actual life and death.
They’re not asking: ‘How can I add value this quarter?’
They’re asking: ‘Will the medicine arrive this week?’
They’re not focused on brand strategy.
They’re wondering if they’ll live long enough to watch their child grow up.
Today I was handed a list of urgently needed chemotherapy drugs:
- Cytarabine 1g
- Mesna 200mg
- Folinic Acid 50mg
- Temozolomide 100mg / 250mg
- Oxaliplatin 100mg
This week, I donated Rs. 250,000 worth of medicines, wigs, a wheelchair, and education support for kids with cancer — not as charity, but because no one should have to fight cancer and poverty at the same time.
A few meters away, at Indira Cancer Trust, donated hair is being turned into handmade wigs for women who’ve lost theirs.
No PR. No applause.
Just dignity — stitched back into someone’s life.
And then came the moment I’ll never forget:
I met a 37-year-old mother and her 6-year-old son.
Both fighting Lymphoma. Both still smiling.
I offered financial help. She stared at it, stunned — she had never seen foreign currency in her life.
Then she said:
‘Let me go back to my village and bring you jaggery. I want to give you something in return.’
A woman with cancer, caring for a child with cancer, wanted to walk miles just to thank me properly.
People with nothing still find a way to give.
Others with everything still only know how to keep.
Medicine keeps a person alive.
Support keeps them human.
How we treat people when they’re fragile reveals who we really are.
Let’s be honest:
Some of the most ‘high-performing’ workplaces talk about empathy but don’t know how to look someone in the eye once they’re unwell.
Some of the most polished leaders crumble the moment real humanity enters the room — when it doesn’t look convenient, confident, or quiet.
Some of the loudest champions of ‘inclusion’ fall silent the second the cost becomes visible — a scar, a shaking voice, a life that doesn’t fit the brand.
If your culture can’t hold space for someone who’s been sick, grieving, vulnerable, or changed —
it isn’t culture.
It’s branding.
Some of the strongest people in this country are sitting in hospital corridors right now, fighting to stay alive.
Some of the weakest are sitting in glass offices, terrified of what happens when someone stops fitting the image.
Today wasn’t a soft moment.
It was a hard truth:
Humanity is not a tagline.
Leadership is not a title.
Both are proven when no one’s watching.“
More posts featuring Niranjala Siriwardena.