The Silent Catastrophe: Reimagining India’s Breast Cancer Care

A breast cancer diagnosis does not merely shatter the patient; it destabilises an entire family. For a woman, the moment she hears the word “cancer,” life transforms into a fog of fear and confusion. The family stands equally paralysed, inexperienced in navigating the shock. What was once a distant story about someone else suddenly becomes a brutally personal reality.

India, today, faces a dual challenge: the rising incidence of breast cancer and the alarming inadequacy of support mechanisms surrounding the disease. According to the Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR), breast cancer now accounts for nearly 27% of all cancers among Indian women, with over 2.3 lakh new cases each year. Despite advancements in medical technology, yet, only about 50% survive beyond five years after detection, not because our doctors lack skill, but because our system lacks support, empathy, and readiness.

A fragmented structure that offers treatment, but not care

What most patients encounter is a fragmented structure that offers treatment, but not care. From the very outset, a woman entering a hospital for her first round of treatment encounters uncertainty where clarity should exist. There are few practical guidelines, no preparatory instructions about surgery or radiation, and no basic information about clothing, hygiene, or the management of side effects.

In several countries, such as the United States, hospitals routinely provide post-surgical care kits, specialised undergarments, radiation creams, and self-care instructions indispensable to patient comfort. In India, these simple yet vital aids are either exorbitantly priced or completely unavailable, leaving women to endure physical pain in the dark.

Beyond the hospital walls, the silence is even louder. The emotional vacuum is equally disturbing. Counselling for patients and their families remains almost non-existent in most Indian hospitals. The trauma of breast cancer extends well beyond the operating theatre; it lingers in the anxiety, self-doubt, and fear that patients silently carry.

Our system, however, does not account for emotional rehabilitation. Families remain uninformed about what recovery entails and how to comfort or assist the patient. In the absence of psychological support, despair often becomes a companion. Patients are left vulnerable to social isolation, while their families struggle with helplessness they cannot express.

Even after surgery, the challenges persist. In hospitals across the country, long hours of waiting for post-treatment consultations are routine. Women with weakened immunity are crammed into overcrowded corridors, risking secondary infections in spaces that should instead be sanctuaries of care. The lack of empathy in hospital management stems not from a shortage of funds, but from a shortage of compassion, an institutional apathy that reduces patients to case numbers rather than individuals in need of dignity.

Behind every physical struggle lies a harsher financial one. Data shows that out-of-pocket expenditure still forms nearly 47% of India’s total healthcare spending. The cost of breast cancer treatment in private institutions can range anywhere between ₹5 lakh and ₹25 lakh, depending on the stage and protocol. Government schemes such as Ayushman Bharat cover basic treatment but provide little help for expensive targeted therapies, reconstruction surgeries, or rehabilitation support.

For women living in rural or semi-urban areas, the absence of affordable accommodation near major hospitals and limited information about subsidised facilities forces them into crippling travel and lodging expenses. Many are left to choose between survival and sustenance.

This financial imbalance intersects sharply with gender inequality. Women in Indian families often consider themselves secondary earners and last in line for spending. For many, the thought of “draining the household budget” for their own recovery feels unacceptable. The cruelty of this perception lies not just in neglect but in the quiet acceptance of replaceability, where the value of a woman’s life ends with her role as a caregiver.

This cultural bias silently translates into delayed screenings, postponed hospital visits, and reduced survival chances.  In rural areas, late-stage detection remains the norm; nearly 60% of breast cancer cases are diagnosed only at stage III or IV.

The road to change demands both empathy and structural reform. India’s health policy must shift from being reactive to being preventive and patient-centric. Insurance coverage for women needs urgent expansion, and families that insure their female members should receive tangible tax benefits. If India can offer tax incentives for women-led businesses, why not for women’s healthcare? Less than 20% of Indian women have independent medical coverage. Female health must be recognised as an economic and social imperative.

Government action must prioritise rural outreach

Similarly, government action must prioritise rural outreach through community-based schemes and collective insurance models that reach self-help groups and panchayats. In parallel, compassionate infrastructure such as subsidised cancer hostels near major medical hubs should be developed so that families do not have to choose between treatment and livelihood.

Equally critical is the institutionalisation of psychological counselling and patient navigation systems within hospitals. Every woman battling cancer deserves emotional guidance, reliable information, and structured support through every phase of recovery. Medical intervention extends beyond cure; it involves restoring confidence, dignity, and the will to fight.

Awareness campaigns must similarly evolve; pink ribbons and one-month drives are not enough. Education about early detection, self-examination, and preventive health must be woven into everyday healthcare communication, particularly in regional languages and rural communities, where late diagnosis continues to cost lives.

This October, as we observe Breast Cancer Awareness Month, let us move beyond symbolism. Let us demand policies that humanise the patient’s journey, integrate emotional, financial, and rehabilitative care, and treat every life as worth saving, not just worth diagnosing. A nation that claims to respect its women must create a system that safeguards their health with the same intensity it speaks about empowerment. If we can incentivise entrepreneurship in women through tax exemptions and ownership benefits, we must equally incentivise survival by making health security a right, not a privilege.

Renuka Chowdhury is a Rajya Sabha MP from the Indian National Congress and former Union Cabinet Minister. Her official X (formerly Twitter) handle is @RenukaCCongress

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