Hospice of Hope: How a Mizoram doctor serves the forgotten

Inside a dimly lit room tucked into the hillside of Zemabawk, a woman with advanced ovarian cancer lay quietly as Dr. Jacob adjusted her IV. As he held her hand, she whispered, “My daughter wrote about you in school. She called you her hero.”

The hospice around them was simple—ten beds, a soft stillness, and the occasional rustle of nurses’ footsteps. But at that moment, it felt like the centre of something far greater: a place where pain met compassion, where the dying were not abandoned, but honoured, and where one doctor’s quiet dedication made a world of difference.

Atop a hill in Aizawl’s Zemabawk stands a weathered building with faded green paint. It’s a three-storey structure, one-floor level with the road and two more nestled into the hillside below. On the lower ground floor of this humble building is a space where cancer patients rise in quiet hope, where money and hospital fees are no longer a burden.

The Hospice Care Unit was established in May 2022 by the Cancer Society of Mizoram, with support from the Mizoram State Cancer Institute(MSCI). But behind its continued operation is one individual whose presence is vital: Dr. Jacob KT Laibu, a Medical Officer at the MSCI. Outside of his official duties, he volunteers his time, tending to patients at the hospice with no personal financial gain.

At first glance, Dr. Jacob appears like any other young man. He enjoys playing football and basketball and tries his best never to miss a Manchester United match on Premier League weekends. He listens to country music and old-school rap. He speaks with quiet humility, the kind that makes you feel heard.

But the more you learn about him, the more you realise that behind the easy smile is someone who has made an uncommon choice—to dedicate his life to those facing the end of theirs.

Over the years, Dr. Jacob has cared for more than a thousand patients at the hospice. While the hospice has five nurses and one multipurpose worker, all receiving stipends from the Cancer Society of Mizoram, Dr. Jacob’s only reward, he says, is the gratitude of the people he serves. “As a volunteer in hospice, even though I did not receive any financial benefits, I’ve seen the faces and received word of thanks from the patients and their loved ones, which are priceless. I think that’s what keeps me emotionally strong,” he said.

What inspired him was the lack of palliative care for patients at the end of their lives. “Sometimes, people take their loved ones home because there’s little more that can be done in the hospital. Patients often face poor end-of-life care without proper support. That’s where hospice care steps in—improving the quality of life for those nearing the end.”

A personal experience, however, deeply planted the seed of palliative care in his heart from a young age. He recalls, “When I was a young boy, my grandfather was diagnosed with end-stage cancer. Our village was about 300 km from Aizawl, so we decided to bring him home with us. During the journey, I would glance at him and see his suffering. Sadly, at that time, strong painkillers like morphine were not available in Mizoram.”

His grandfather passed away on the journey, but that experience motivated Dr. Jacob to become a doctor, to care for those with life-limiting illnesses, ease their suffering, and improve their quality of life.

“It was started with ten wooden structure beds,” said Dr. Jacob. “Sometimes, people will take their loved ones home since nothing much can be done at the hospital. Patients often experience a very poor quality of end-of-life care without proper care. That’s where the concept of hospice care step in—to improve the quality of life for those meeting their end.”

In the early days, the concept of a hospice was unfamiliar to many in Mizoram. Dr. Jacob recalled, “When the hospice started, people were doubtful and the biggest question on everyone’s mind was how long it would last, as a ‘hospice’ was a new concept to the state of Mizoram and free treatment by default is very challenging.”

But support from the Cancer Society and the perseverance of its volunteers made the difference. “By God’s grace, the hospice has been running smoothly for the last 3 years and providing free healthcare services to more than 1000 patients,” he said.

Dr. Jacob’s dedication extends beyond the city. While some of his travel expenses within Aizawl are covered under the National Program for Palliative Care (NPPC), journeys to rural areas are paid for from his pocket. “I once visited a patient who resides in a border area. He had lung cancer and was receiving oxygen using an electric oxygen concentrator. I asked him how he managed when there was no electricity. He replied by telling me that he suffered through the power outages (which are common in rural areas in the state). I think that hit me hard, how much pain he had to go through during those times. So being able to ease his pain even for a short while was priceless.”

He often travels with nurses and multipurpose workers who volunteer alongside him. Together, they bring comfort where healthcare is otherwise out of reach.

Still, the challenges are many. Awareness about hospice and palliative care remains low, and the program runs almost entirely on donations. Funds are stretched to cover care, medications, and basic equipment. Dr. Jacob hopes that one day, palliative care in Mizoram will expand beyond cancer to include other life-limiting illnesses such as stroke, neurological disorders, chronic kidney disease, and heart failure.

Above all, he emphasizes a shift in mindset. “Compassion is about understanding that the treatment goes beyond the physical problem but also the mental and socio-economic concern,” he said. “It is important to take care of the patient, not just the disease—and remember that the person you’re treating is someone’s mother, father, sister or brother.”

While his work can be emotionally draining at times, he believes the satisfaction it provides is beyond what money can buy. “Taking care of patients suffering from chronic illness, providing care to those spending their last moments—there are times when we feel emotionally drained due to the high mortality rate. But being able to be there in someone’s final moments, taking care of them, and ensuring they receive care that improves their quality of life—that’s something money can’t buy.”

He shared a recent experience: “The other day, I attended the funeral of one of our patients. We were given a program with a brief life story, and I saw my name written on it. I’m not related by blood to that person, but my name was highlighted in the few lines of their life. That’s when you realize that you’ve done something meaningful with your work, and that keeps you going.”

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