The recent news that Ghana’s Vice President, Prof. Naana Jane Opoku-Agyemang, had to be flown abroad for medical treatment is a painful wake-up call. It exposes the glaring deficiencies in our healthcare system, a system that continues to fail the very people it’s meant to protect.
While politicians board flights to access top-tier care overseas, the average Ghanaian is left behind in under-resourced hospitals, struggling to survive without beds, equipment, or even basic necessities.
Let’s be clear, this isn’t just about one leader seeking better treatment. It’s about a broken system that’s been neglected for far too long. Just weeks ago, the Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital, one of the country’s largest referral centres, halted all surgical operations due to a severe water shortage.
Yes, in 2025, patients in need of critical surgeries were turned away, not for lack of expertise, but because there was no water. How does that happen in a country where millions of Cedis are poured into government comforts and luxuries?
And water isn’t the only problem. The notorious “no bed” syndrome is still quietly claiming lives. Emergency patients are regularly shuffled between hospitals, as frantic families beg for help. It’s not an exception, it’s the norm. And yet, the urgency to fix the system only seems to surface when someone in power is affected. Even then, they sidestep the chaos entirely.
For decades, politicians have promised healthcare reform. But let’s ask the hard question: What would happen if they were forced to rely on the same hospitals the rest of us do? What if they, too, were told there were no beds available while in critical condition? What if they had to queue for hours, lie in crowded wards, or watch a loved one die, not because their illness was untreatable, but because the system never gave them a fighting chance?
Maybe that’s what real change would take. Maybe only when a politician experiences this firsthand when they feel the helplessness of a broken healthcare system, will urgency replace apathy. It’s a harsh thought, but it reflects the frustration of a nation that has waited too long for leadership that cares.
Ghana’s healthcare crisis is more than crumbling infrastructure. It’s a crisis of leadership, misplaced priorities, and lack of political will. Flying out for treatment might save an individual, but it broadcasts a national shame. Each time a top official seeks care abroad, it sends a chilling message: this system is not good enough for us, only for you.
And yet, we act surprised when our best nurses and doctors flee to Europe, the UK, or the U.S. in search of better working conditions. Can we really blame them? These professionals are expected to perform miracles in hospitals with no gloves, no beds, no water and no support. The brain drain isn’t betrayal. It’s self-preservation.
If our leaders had no choice but to experience the healthcare system they’ve created, reform might finally stop being a campaign slogan and start being a priority. Because for the rest of us, it’s not about politics, it’s about life and death.
Until then, the suffering continues. And ordinary Ghanaians will keep dying in silence, while those elected to protect them heal comfortably in foreign hospitals.