“Cancer Is Winning in Nigeria — The Shocking Healthcare Gap Behind the Crisis”

CANCER IS WINNING IN NIGERIA — AND THE NUMBERS WE CAN’T AFFORD TO IGNORE

Before you call that a curse, an insult to Nigeria, or another “negative” statement about our country, let me make something clear:

It is not a curse. It is a reality we must confront.

And the numbers are frightening.

According to data cited from the Cancer Research Institute of Nigeria, Nigeria has a severe shortage of critical diagnostic equipment needed to detect and manage cancer.

With a population of more than 200 million people, Nigeria has only about 200 CT scanners, meaning roughly one scanner for every one million Nigerians.

To put that into perspective, the United States has approximately one CT scanner for every 23,500 people, while China has roughly one for every 45,000–56,000 people. Singapore has about one scanner for every 112,000 people.

The gap is enormous.

And CT scanners are only part of the problem.

Nigeria reportedly has just 58 MRI machines, approximately one for every 3.5 million Nigerians.

There are only about 42 mammography machines, roughly one for every five million Nigerians.

These figures should make every Nigerian stop and ask:

How prepared are we to fight cancer?

Because cancer is not waiting for us to build capacity.

In 2022 alone, Nigeria recorded an estimated 152,261 new cancer cases and 90,795 cancer deaths.

That translates to roughly 417 new cases every day and about 249 deaths every day.

Behind every statistic is a human being.

A mother.

A father.

A wife.

A husband.

A child.

A brother.

A sister.

A friend.

A breadwinner.

A family whose entire life can change the moment a doctor says, “It is cancer.”

And this is where the situation becomes even more frightening.

When cancer meets a healthcare system that is not sufficiently prepared, the disease gains an enormous advantage.

The problem is not simply the number of CT scanners.

We need MRI machines. PET-CT scanners. Radiotherapy centres. Pathology laboratories. Oncology specialists. Cancer surgeons. Medical oncologists. Radiation oncologists. Medical physicists. Oncology nurses. Chemotherapy facilities. Reliable electricity. Equipment maintenance. Spare parts. Affordable medicines. Early screening. Early diagnosis.

And above all, we need ACCESS.

Because having a machine somewhere in Nigeria does not automatically mean a cancer patient can access it when they need it.

What happens when a patient is told to undergo a scan but the machine is unavailable?

What happens when the nearest functional cancer centre is hundreds of kilometres away?

What happens when a family has to wait weeks or months for treatment?

What happens when the cost of diagnosis and treatment is far beyond what an average Nigerian family can afford?

And what happens when, after spending everything they have, the family is still unable to complete the treatment?

These are not theoretical questions.

They are questions of life and death.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT POLITICS

This is where I struggle when conversations about Nigeria’s healthcare system immediately become political.

You say the system is failing, and someone accuses you of being unpatriotic.

You ask questions about healthcare, and someone starts defending the government.

You highlight a gap, and someone tells you to talk about the “good things” happening.

But loving Nigeria does not mean pretending everything is okay.

I love this country. That is precisely why these numbers should frighten me.

When your mother is diagnosed with cancer, you don’t need patriotism.

You need a functioning healthcare system.

When your child urgently needs a scan, you don’t need another political argument.

You need a machine that works.

When your doctor says you need radiotherapy, you don’t need a press release.

You need access to treatment.

This should not be about APC.

It should not be about PDP.

It should not be about Labour.

It should not be about Tinubu.

It should not be about Buhari.

It should be about Nigerians.

Government is not supposed to be defended from legitimate questions. Government is supposed to be held accountable for delivering systems that protect the lives and wellbeing of citizens.

THE QUESTIONS WE MUST ASK

How many cancer diagnostic machines do we actually have?

How many are functional?

How many cancer centres can provide comprehensive treatment?

How many oncologists are available to serve more than 200 million Nigerians?

How long does an average Nigerian cancer patient wait before receiving treatment?

How many families are pushed into poverty because of cancer?

How many patients abandon treatment because they cannot afford it?

How many Nigerians travel abroad because they cannot obtain the treatment they need at home?

And perhaps most importantly:

What is government doing to close these gaps?

These are not questions of hatred.

They are questions of responsibility.

A serious nation must be able to examine its weaknesses without turning every criticism into a political battle.

CANCER DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR POLITICAL PARTY

Cancer does not ask whether you voted APC.

It does not ask whether you support PDP.

It does not ask whether you are Labour.

It does not care whether you are rich or poor, famous or unknown.

When cancer comes knocking, the only thing that matters is whether you can access the right diagnosis, the right doctor, the right medicine and the right treatment at the right time.

That is why healthcare must be treated as a national priority.

We cannot continue building a society where sophisticated healthcare is available to those who can afford to travel abroad while millions of ordinary Nigerians struggle to access basic diagnostic services at home.

We must invest in cancer prevention.

We must expand screening.

We must improve early detection.

We must train and retain more specialists.

We must establish and equip more cancer centres.

We must make cancer treatment more affordable.

We must maintain existing equipment so that machines do not remain useless when patients desperately need them.

We must also address the less visible problems—electricity, maintenance, staffing, funding, supply chains and access to essential medicines.

Because a hospital without functioning equipment is only a building.

A cancer centre without specialists is not enough.

A machine that is broken is not capacity.

And treatment that a patient cannot afford is, for that patient, practically unavailable.

SO, YES, MY OPENING STATEMENT IS DELIBERATELY UNCOMFORTABLE

“In Nigeria, cancer will always win.”

Not because Nigerians cannot fight.

Not because our doctors are incapable.

Not because God has abandoned us.

And certainly not because our people are weak.

Cancer wins when we consistently underbuild the system that is supposed to fight it.

Cancer wins when diagnosis comes too late.

Cancer wins when machines are unavailable.

Cancer wins when treatment is unaffordable.

Cancer wins when patients travel hundreds of kilometres just to access basic services.

Cancer wins when families have to choose between paying medical bills and feeding their children.

Cancer wins when we turn legitimate questions about healthcare into political arguments instead of confronting the problems.

But this does not have to remain our reality.

We can change it.

We can build a Nigeria where cancer patients are diagnosed early.

A Nigeria where treatment is available.

A Nigeria where hospitals have functioning equipment.

A Nigeria where specialists are properly supported.

A Nigeria where families do not have to sell everything they own to keep a loved one alive.

A Nigeria where a cancer diagnosis does not automatically become a financial death sentence.

Because development is not just about GDP, roads, buildings or economic statistics.

Development is also about whether an ordinary Nigerian can fall sick and still have a fighting chance.

That is the Nigeria we should be building.

So, rather than defending every failure, let us have the courage to identify them.

Rather than attacking those who ask uncomfortable questions, let us answer them.

Rather than pretending everything is fine, let us fix what is broken.

That, to me, is patriotism.

Not defending every failure.

Fixing them.

— Daniel ADENIYI