For some time now, I have been professionally involved in addressing issues in the healthcare sector. Overcrowded emergency departments and long queues at doctors’ offices are unpleasant realities of life that almost everyone in Slovakia has experienced. It is therefore striking that while the state eases conditions for employing workers in car factories and other industries, it throws obstacles in the way of qualified foreign professionals with medical education.
Emergency visits to the hospital in Kramáre with sick children feel like a horror story to me, and I’m trying to understand why this is the case and how it can be resolved. In Russia, healthcare has always been a matter of national interest, meant to be a source of pride for society — even though this goal has often remained unmet. Still, I was raised to believe that we must strive for it and never be indifferent, because our health and the health of our children is the most important thing.
The emigration of doctors in search of better salaries abroad, the low interest in studying healthcare-related fields, and the limited capacity of the educational system have led to a serious shortage of medical personnel in Slovakia. Simply put, this can be described as “Demand.” In my work, I come across a large number of university-trained doctors from Ukraine and Russia who are interested in coming to work in Slovakia — often they are fully qualified professionals, specialists with experience in the field and knowledge of closely related languages. I call this “Partial Supply.”
Of course, we also need to work with the factor of “Total Supply,” which means we must create conditions — not only financial, but also professional — for Slovak doctors to return home, and provide suitable conditions for current and future medical professionals. But why not also take advantage of the opportunities our time offers to at least partially restore the balance that patients are so desperately asking for? In neighboring countries like the Czech Republic and Poland, foreign doctors can quickly overcome language barriers by attending language schools, where they can choose from a wide range of options, and, in cooperation with hospitals, they have the opportunity to properly prepare for complementary and specialization exams. In Slovakia, our language school iCan would like to provide language training for foreign doctors from third countries, but we have been unsuccessfully trying to establish cooperation with universities. That’s why I was shocked by the statement of the Ministry of Health’s spokesperson:
“The experience of universities so far has shown that the main reason for the low success rate in passing the complementary exam is underestimating preparation, as well as insufficient knowledge of the state language. One of the basic conditions for performing a healthcare profession by foreigners is mastering the state language to the extent necessary for the profession.” Nice words, but have you actually given these doctors the chance to prepare? Were training sessions organized? Were preparatory programs made available? And if language schools approached you asking for cooperation, were you willing to support them?
I’ve also heard the opinion that only poorly qualified doctors come from Ukraine, and that’s why we don’t want them. That is exactly why I feel it necessary to share with you the specific case of a pediatrician from Donetsk. She came to Slovakia in 2015 with her two children and her husband, shortly after the annexation of Crimea by Russia. She is a highly qualified specialist, and I, as a mother, would gladly accept her as a pediatrician for my children. She wanted to start a new life in Slovakia with her family, far from the war, in a safe place for her loved ones. She is a pediatrician specializing in infectious diseases in children, with over 25 years of experience in her field — including work in the midst of the Donetsk-Luhansk armed conflict. In addition to her medical practice, she spent many years as a respected lecturer in postgraduate education at Ukrainian medical universities.
Even though it was incredibly difficult for her and her family to leave their home country, relatives, friends, and colleagues, she and her husband made this life-changing decision in hopes of a better and safer future — especially for their children — and they chose Slovakia. This is not an isolated case. I know of other doctors who left Donetsk and Luhansk. Few people have fought as hard as she did for the right to practice her profession in Slovakia — and yet her efforts ended in failure. After a year-long and complicated process, she received a rejection. In the Czech Republic, however, she received approval without any issues! She praised their approach to diploma recognition, the simplicity of procedures, the availability of textbooks for exam preparation, and the overall transparency and functionality of the system.
And so, Slovakia lost a pediatrician — and I’m genuinely saddened by it. About a year ago, our local pediatrician retired, and for several months I tried in vain to find a replacement for my children. Eventually, we ended up at the largest clinic network in Slovakia, where we have already had three different pediatricians in a short span of time… Apparently, there’s a shortage even there.
Is this situation a result of indifference when it comes to solving problems in Slovakia? Or does the prevailing belief remain that Ukrainian doctors are not qualified, and that we simply don’t want them? Why do we open our doors to Ukrainian laborers, but make it so hard for professionals to enter — even though we have long needed them? All it would take is some support for the institutions that are genuinely interested in solving this issue — and, more importantly, political will. Willingness to create a system that works. So that our country welcomes not just foreigners without completed secondary education, but also real professionals who can help improve the overall quality of life. Our neighboring countries understood this long ago.
Emergency visits to the hospital in Kramáre with sick children feel like a horror story to me, and I’m trying to understand why this is the case and how it can be resolved. In Russia, healthcare has always been a matter of national interest, meant to be a source of pride for society — even though this goal has often remained unmet. Still, I was raised to believe that we must strive for it and never be indifferent, because our health and the health of our children is the most important thing.
The emigration of doctors in search of better salaries abroad, the low interest in studying healthcare-related fields, and the limited capacity of the educational system have led to a serious shortage of medical personnel in Slovakia. Simply put, this can be described as “Demand.” In my work, I come across a large number of university-trained doctors from Ukraine and Russia who are interested in coming to work in Slovakia — often they are fully qualified professionals, specialists with experience in the field and knowledge of closely related languages. I call this “Partial Supply.”
Of course, we also need to work with the factor of “Total Supply,” which means we must create conditions — not only financial, but also professional — for Slovak doctors to return home, and provide suitable conditions for current and future medical professionals. But why not also take advantage of the opportunities our time offers to at least partially restore the balance that patients are so desperately asking for? In neighboring countries like the Czech Republic and Poland, foreign doctors can quickly overcome language barriers by attending language schools, where they can choose from a wide range of options, and, in cooperation with hospitals, they have the opportunity to properly prepare for complementary and specialization exams. In Slovakia, our language school iCan would like to provide language training for foreign doctors from third countries, but we have been unsuccessfully trying to establish cooperation with universities. That’s why I was shocked by the statement of the Ministry of Health’s spokesperson:
“The experience of universities so far has shown that the main reason for the low success rate in passing the complementary exam is underestimating preparation, as well as insufficient knowledge of the state language. One of the basic conditions for performing a healthcare profession by foreigners is mastering the state language to the extent necessary for the profession.” Nice words, but have you actually given these doctors the chance to prepare? Were training sessions organized? Were preparatory programs made available? And if language schools approached you asking for cooperation, were you willing to support them?
I’ve also heard the opinion that only poorly qualified doctors come from Ukraine, and that’s why we don’t want them. That is exactly why I feel it necessary to share with you the specific case of a pediatrician from Donetsk. She came to Slovakia in 2015 with her two children and her husband, shortly after the annexation of Crimea by Russia. She is a highly qualified specialist, and I, as a mother, would gladly accept her as a pediatrician for my children. She wanted to start a new life in Slovakia with her family, far from the war, in a safe place for her loved ones. She is a pediatrician specializing in infectious diseases in children, with over 25 years of experience in her field — including work in the midst of the Donetsk-Luhansk armed conflict. In addition to her medical practice, she spent many years as a respected lecturer in postgraduate education at Ukrainian medical universities.
Even though it was incredibly difficult for her and her family to leave their home country, relatives, friends, and colleagues, she and her husband made this life-changing decision in hopes of a better and safer future — especially for their children — and they chose Slovakia. This is not an isolated case. I know of other doctors who left Donetsk and Luhansk. Few people have fought as hard as she did for the right to practice her profession in Slovakia — and yet her efforts ended in failure. After a year-long and complicated process, she received a rejection. In the Czech Republic, however, she received approval without any issues! She praised their approach to diploma recognition, the simplicity of procedures, the availability of textbooks for exam preparation, and the overall transparency and functionality of the system.
And so, Slovakia lost a pediatrician — and I’m genuinely saddened by it. About a year ago, our local pediatrician retired, and for several months I tried in vain to find a replacement for my children. Eventually, we ended up at the largest clinic network in Slovakia, where we have already had three different pediatricians in a short span of time… Apparently, there’s a shortage even there.
Is this situation a result of indifference when it comes to solving problems in Slovakia? Or does the prevailing belief remain that Ukrainian doctors are not qualified, and that we simply don’t want them? Why do we open our doors to Ukrainian laborers, but make it so hard for professionals to enter — even though we have long needed them? All it would take is some support for the institutions that are genuinely interested in solving this issue — and, more importantly, political will. Willingness to create a system that works. So that our country welcomes not just foreigners without completed secondary education, but also real professionals who can help improve the overall quality of life. Our neighboring countries understood this long ago.
Current articles by Alona Kurotova are also available at dennikn.sk
