The corridor outside the cardiology unit of the National Heart Foundation hums with restless footsteps and whispered prayers. Mothers hold prescriptions like sacred scrolls. Fathers count crumpled notes in trembling hands. Every few minutes, a nurse calls a new name — another life hanging by a thread.
Among them sits Nazmun Nahar, 32, a mother of two. Once cheerful and energetic, she now looks pale and fragile – the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from too much fear.
Last March, Nazmun felt a sharp pain in her chest while cooking. At first, she dismissed it as fatigue. But the pain returned – sharper, heavier – followed by breathlessness. Hovering between the National Institute of Cardiovascular Diseases (NICVD), a private hospital at Kalyanpur and after days of tests and uncertainty, doctors gave her the verdict: a damaged heart valve that must be replaced.
But the replacement is risky. Her heart’s pumping capacity (LVEF-32) is too weak. After eight months of treatment and medication, it hasn’t improved. The doctors now speak cautiously – surgery could cost around Tk 3.5 lakh, but success isn’t guaranteed.
Her husband, a small private employee, has already sold their ancestral land. Now he sits quietly by her bed, holding her file and staring at the bills. “How do I tell my children,” he murmurs, “that their mother’s life depends on money we don’t have?”
Heartbreak in every ward
Just two doors away, Ibrahim, an electrician working for a major newspaper, fights his own battle. A massive heart attack four months ago left him half alive. Doctors advised placing three stents, but he couldn’t afford the operation immediately. When he finally managed to arrange the money, new complications appeared – a blood clot, poor heart function.
The stents would now have to wait. More medicine. More time. More bills.
His savings are gone. His wife has pawned her gold. His son quit college to work in a garage. “Sometimes I wonder,” he says, “what’s the point of surviving if you destroy everything to stay alive?”
In just 15 minutes in the waiting area of this hospital, you can hear a dozen such stories – all different faces, one shared despair. Doctors here estimate that 1,500–1,600 patients walk in daily, most with some form of heart disease, many with no means to pay.
This hospital, like so many across the country, has become a monument to silent suffering – a place where hope is rationed and poverty begins.
Cancer, diabetes, and the cost of living
At the National Cancer Research Institute, the scene is no less heartbreaking. Patients lie side by side in narrow corridors, their relatives clutching test reports, receipts, and loan papers.
Every day, dozens arrive from faraway districts – Rajshahi, Rangamati, Khulna – chasing the same flicker of hope. For many, it’s their last stop.
A cancer patient’s family might spend Tk 20,000 to Tk 30,000 a month just on medicines and tests. One round of chemotherapy can cost Tk 80,000 in private hospitals. Over months, that becomes a mountain no middle-income family can climb.
Some sell their homes. Some mortgage their future. Some simply stop treatment midway – surrendering not to disease, but to destitution.
The numbers behind the nightmare
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), non-communicable diseases (NCDs) – heart disease, cancer, diabetes, lung and kidney disease – are now the world’s leading cause of death, responsible for 43 million deaths in 2021 alone. Of these, 18 million were people under the age of 70.
And here’s the cruel twist: 82 per cent of these premature deaths occur in low- and-middle-income countries like Bangladesh.
Globally, NCDs are not only taking lives – they’re dismantling economies. The World Bank estimates that by 2030, developing nations could lose trillions in productivity due to illness, absenteeism, and treatment costs.
In Bangladesh, where out-of-pocket medical expenses already account for more than 70 per cent of total health spending, these diseases are pushing millions into poverty every year.
The slow, invisible epidemic
“These diseases don’t spread through infection,” explains Emeritus Professor Dr ABM Abdullah, “but through lifestyle – through what we eat, how we live, and what we ignore.”
He lists the culprits like a checklist of modern living:
Junk food and sugar overload
Lack of physical activity
Excessive salt and processed food
Smoking, drug use, and stress
Air pollution and sedentary work habits
“Add mental stress, long screen time, and lack of awareness – and you have the perfect recipe for disaster,” he said.
Once diagnosed, the battle rarely ends. “Heart disease, diabetes, hypertension – these are lifelong companions. The treatment never stops. And every test, every medicine, every hospital visit eats into the family’s savings until there’s nothing left.”
For middle and lower-income families, Dr Abdullah said, healthcare is now a gateway to poverty. “We talk about education and jobs, but if people are constantly falling sick and bankrupt from medical costs, how can a country progress?”
When prevention is the only cure
Public health expert Dr Benazir Ahmed believes the solution lies in prevention first, cure second.
“These diseases are difficult to cure once they set in, but they can be prevented,” he said.
“The government must invest more heavily in early prevention – not just in hospitals, but in habits.”
Dr Benazir urges for physical trainers at community clinics to guide locals in exercise and nutrition. “If people build a culture of fitness, even half an hour of walking daily can cut diabetes and heart disease risks by 40 per cent,” he said.
He also believes the country needs a cancer hospital in every division, improved access to modern treatment, and an expansion of health insurance.
“Modern medicine is advancing, but only for those who can afford it. We must bring it within reach of the ordinary people. Otherwise, we are not healing – we are only shifting the pain from hospitals to homes,” he added.
A state responsibility
Health Secretary Md Saidur Rahman said the issue is “in the government’s active consideration.”
“We are working on a National Strategy Paper to combat non-communicable diseases,” he told Jago News. “The Disease Prevention and Control Action Plan 2018-2025 is already being implemented. We have set up NCD corners in Upazila Health Complexes and are providing free medicines through community clinics.”
Digital recordkeeping, awareness campaigns, and inter-ministerial collaborations are ongoing, he said. “But this is a long-term fight. Change won’t come overnight.”
Experts, however, say the urgency on the ground far outpaces policy discussions. Every day lost means more families slipping into debt, more patients like Nazmun waiting for a surgery that may never come.
The final pulse
Non-communicable diseases have become the slow pandemic, one that doesn’t dominate headlines, but quietly dismantles lives. They do not spread by touch, yet they touch every home.
For Bangladesh, the challenge is twofold – saving lives and saving livelihoods.
Because in this new age of illness, the tragedy is no longer just that people are dying – it’s that they are going broke trying to stay alive.