Cuban doctors denounce the lack of resources, their low salaries, and the poor working conditions.
14ymedio, Natalia López Moya/Mercedes García, Havana/Sancti Spíritus, July 27, 2026 / “With what I earn at my job, plus the classes I teach and the occasional participation in a scientific event, I don’t even make $25 a month in salary.” Dante, a name changed to avoid reprisals against this Cuban neurologist, is speaking. Neurology is a prestigious profession in any country, but in Cuba, it’s an incentive to flee . “I live with my mother, and she helps me a lot by preparing snacks and lunches for me to take to work, but I wouldn’t have any of that if it weren’t for the help of my sister, who deserted from her mission in Brazil and helps us a lot from there,” he says.
A specialist at one of the most important hospitals in Havana’s Vedado district, the doctor believes his work is “at half capacity every day.” A resident of the eastern zone of the Cuban capital, he must cross the bay tunnel daily to reach his practice. “They say they guarantee us transportation, but everything is very unreliable . The schedules always clash with our free time because it’s almost always late getting us home.”
“I can’t detect a problem just by looking at the patient. I need to have devices on hand to measure and review neurological responses.”
The low salary and the poor conditions for getting to work each day are not, in any case, the worst of it. “My work is with the brain. I can’t detect a problem just by looking at the patient. I need to have devices on hand to measure and review neurological responses,” he explains to this newspaper. “I can’t just improvise, put a piece of wood on a fracture to immobilize it, or recommend chamomile tea to my patient to soothe their itchy skin. My specialty often doesn’t allow for substituting diagnostic methods, much less medications.”
His short-term goal is “to finish this stage of direct patient care, try to find an academic position that will relieve me of having to deal with hospital problems every day, and from there, look for a scholarship abroad.” He concludes, “I’d rather never see urban healthcare centers again, not even in photos.” It’s the same path that thousands upon thousands of professionals like him have taken.
In 2021, the year of the pandemic, Cuba had 106,131 registered doctors, but the catastrophe, which overwhelmed healthcare systems across much of the world, marked a before and after for Cuba. Just two years later, there were only 80,763 doctors in Cuba. The most recent data, from 2024, indicates that there are 75,364 registered doctors on the island, but the figures for 2025 and the current year promise to be catastrophic. The crisis is worsening, resources are increasingly inadequate, and staff cannot endure grueling shifts without the means to combat disease.
“They force us, for example, to do more than 20 consultations a day, which nobody believes can be done under these conditions.”
“I spend all day filling out paperwork, and almost everything I have to write is a lie. They force us, for example, to do more than 20 consultations a day, which no one can believe is possible under these conditions,” denounces Elsa. She is a nurse at a family doctor’s office in Nuevo Vedado, and she complains about the excessive forms and bureaucratic reports she has to fill out every day, which are killing the enthusiasm she felt for her profession a few years ago.
“We also have to report some 15 cases in the field every day, whether we have to visit a bedridden patient or go to the home of a newborn to check on them, but even that number isn’t credible; it’s never met, but we have to record that it was done.” For Elsa, “never before has there been so much lying in Public Health; everything is inflated, nothing is the truth.” She believes that these falsehoods not only distort the figures that health authorities present regarding primary care in Cuba but also “have the staff very upset and frustrated.” In her case, she is also seriously considering resigning. “I feel ashamed to face patients anymore; I no longer have the energy to keep lying so much.”
The occupation of these premises, intended for the Family Doctor program, has become a common practice throughout the Island
The same thing is happening to Yadira, a nurse at a medical clinic in the city of Sancti Spíritus. The doctor, who graduated more than a decade ago, arrived last week at the clinic where she has worked for the past five years. “We haven’t had a doctor at the clinic for a while, but I’ve continued to see patients in the area, taking their blood pressure, treating some diabetics in the neighborhood, and also taking care of some of the pregnant women,” she told 14ymedio.
“That Wednesday, when I arrived at the clinic, it turned out that the night before, a homeless family had broken in by breaking down the door.” The occupation of these premises, designated for the Family Doctor program, has become a common practice across the island. “It was a very tense situation because I had to do my job, and they were there, lying on the floor on a mat with small children who were very distressed by everything they were experiencing.” The nurse called the police, but “they didn’t arrive until after I had finished my shift.” Yadira had to treat the patients “in a small corner of the doorway.”
So far, the family has not left the clinic, and the police have not been able to evict them. “I haven’t been able to work anymore because there are no suitable conditions there. I’m currently going to the Polyclinic to try to continue treating the diabetic patients I had under my care, but I don’t have a space; I’m practically doing it in a hallway. I can’t continue like this because I can’t. I have neither the resources nor a place to practice my profession.”
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