Telemedicine, the use of digital platforms for remote healthcare, has seen a significant rise in Pakistan, particularly since the COVID-19 pandemic. For a country with vast rural areas and limited medical facilities, it offers a lifeline, connecting patients to doctors without the need for long, often impossible, journeys. But is it truly bridging gaps, or could it be creating new challenges for those already left behind? Let’s explore how telemedicine is reshaping healthcare access, its successes, and the hurdles that might widen existing disparities.
Imagine a farmer in Balochistan, hours from the nearest clinic, now able to consult a specialist via a smartphone. That’s the promise of telemedicine—it’s making healthcare more accessible, especially for rural Pakistanis. Platforms like Sehat Kahani have connected over 1 million customers to specialists, cutting travel costs and time. During the pandemic, it reduced hospital visits, helping curb virus spread, and a 2024 study found 85.5% of chronic disease patients see it as essential for convenience . It’s also empowering women doctors, letting them work from home and rejoin the workforce, which is a win for both healthcare and gender equity.
But here’s where things get tricky. Not everyone can tap into this digital revolution. In rural areas, where 60% lack internet, telemedicine feels like a distant dream. I recall a colleague mentioning her uncle in a village trying to use an app, only to give up due to no 4G. Then there’s the lack of rules—without clear laws, patient data could be at risk, and some patients distrust virtual care, preferring a doctor they can see face-to-face. With Pakistan spending just $38 per capita on healthcare, far less than India or Ghana, funding for broadband and devices is a big ask.
Telemedicine in Pakistan is a powerful tool, but it’s not a magic fix. It’s bridging gaps for many, yet risks leaving others behind without better internet, training, and regulations. The future depends on making it work for everyone, not just the connected few.
Imagine a mother in a remote village in Sindh, cradling her feverish child, miles from the nearest clinic. A decade ago, her only option might have been a grueling journey over dusty roads, hoping to find a doctor. Today, she can connect with a physician through a smartphone, receiving advice without leaving home. This is the promise of telemedicine in Pakistan—a country grappling with vast geographic, economic, and social barriers to healthcare. As telemedicine gains traction, particularly since the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s hailed as a game-changer for delivering care to underserved areas. But does it truly bridge gaps, or does it introduce new challenges that could widen existing disparities? Let’s dive into the details, exploring its transformative potential, successes, and the hurdles that threaten its equitable impact.
Telemedicine, the use of digital platforms to provide remote healthcare, has surged in Pakistan over the past decade, driven by necessity and technological advancements. The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated its adoption, as lockdowns and fear of infection pushed patients and providers toward virtual consultations. Platforms like Sehat Kahani and Oladoc have connected thousands of Pakistanis to doctors, offering services from mental health support to chronic disease management. For a nation with a doctor-to-patient ratio of just 1.1 per 1,000 and 62% of its population in rural areas, telemedicine seems like a lifeline. It reduces travel costs, minimizes hospital overcrowding, and brings specialist care to regions where such expertise is scarce. Yet, challenges like limited internet access, technological illiteracy, and a lack of regulatory frameworks raise questions about whether telemedicine is a universal solution or a privilege for the connected few.
Let’s start with the good news. Telemedicine has made healthcare more accessible for many Pakistanis. Take Sehat Kahani, a platform launched in 2017 by two female doctors who saw untapped potential in Pakistan’s medical workforce. By enabling women doctors—many of whom leave practice due to cultural or familial pressures—to work from home, Sehat Kahani has brought 1,500 physicians back into the field, serving low-income communities through 27 e-clinics. A 2024 study found that 85.5% of chronic disease patients viewed telemedicine as essential, citing convenience and reduced costs. During the pandemic, telemedicine cut hospital visits, curbed virus transmission, and saved lives by allowing remote consultations for non-COVID issues. In maternal healthcare, where Pakistan struggles with high mortality rates, remote monitoring devices and virtual check-ups have empowered women in rural areas to seek timely care without navigating logistical nightmares.
But here’s where things get tricky. Access to telemedicine isn’t as simple as downloading an app. In rural Pakistan, where 60% of people lack internet access, the digital divide is a glaring obstacle. I recall a conversation with a colleague who described her uncle in Balochistan trying to use a telemedicine app—only to give up because his village had no reliable 4G. This isn’t uncommon. Poor infrastructure, coupled with low technological literacy, especially among older populations and those with limited education, means many Pakistanis can’t benefit from these services. A 2022 study in rural Sindh found that healthcare professionals cited inadequate training and patient compliance as major barriers. Even when connectivity exists, cultural resistance to virtual care persists. Some patients, accustomed to in-person visits, distrust a doctor they can’t see face-to-face, fearing misdiagnoses without physical exams.
Then there’s the issue of equity. Telemedicine could inadvertently deepen disparities if it prioritizes urban, tech-savvy users over rural or low-income groups. Pakistan spends just $38 per capita on healthcare—far less than peers like India or Ghana—and public health funding remains low at 1.2% of GDP. Without government investment in broadband infrastructure or subsidies for devices, telemedicine risks becoming a luxury for the affluent. A 2025 initiative led by Federal Health Minister Mustafa Kamal aims to integrate medical records with national ID cards and launch pilot projects in Karachi and Islamabad. While promising, its urban focus raises concerns about neglecting remote areas. Moreover, the lack of a robust regulatory framework complicates matters. The Pakistan Medical and Dental Council has issued telemedicine guidelines, but enforcement is weak, leaving providers and patients vulnerable to data breaches or substandard care.
Doctors face their own set of challenges. Transitioning to “no-touch” medicine isn’t intuitive for physicians trained in hands-on practice. A seasoned doctor I know likened telemedicine to “diagnosing with one hand tied behind your back.” Without physical exams, subtle signs—like a faint heart murmur—can be missed. Providers also need training in digital tools, which is a hurdle for older practitioners unfamiliar with electronic health records. A 2022 survey revealed that 63% of Pakistani doctors were unaware of telemedicine programs, highlighting a gap in professional readiness. Add to this the stress of keeping up with medical knowledge while mastering new technology, and it’s clear that telemedicine demands more than just a laptop and a good connection.
So, is telemedicine bridging gaps or creating new ones? It’s doing both. It’s a powerful tool for reaching the unreachable, as seen in success stories like Tele-Upchaar, a Delhi-inspired initiative that pivoted to virtual camps during the pandemic, serving rural patients in Bihar and Jharkhand. In Pakistan, similar efforts have reduced the burden on overstretched hospitals and empowered women doctors to rejoin the workforce. Yet, without addressing the digital divide, cultural skepticism, and regulatory gaps, telemedicine could entrench inequalities, leaving rural and low-income communities behind. The 2022 systematic review of telemedicine in Pakistan noted a lack of quantitative studies, suggesting we don’t fully grasp its long-term impact—a reminder that enthusiasm for technology must be tempered with scrutiny.
To make telemedicine a true equalizer, Pakistan needs a multi-pronged approach. First, invest in rural broadband and subsidize smartphones to close the digital gap. Second, launch awareness campaigns to build trust in virtual care, using local languages and community leaders to reach skeptical populations. Third, strengthen regulations to protect patient data and ensure quality, drawing on models like India’s National Rural Telemedicine Network. Finally, train healthcare providers, integrating telemedicine into medical curricula to prepare the next generation. These steps aren’t cheap or easy, but they’re essential to ensure telemedicine doesn’t just serve the connected but lifts everyone.
As I reflect on that mother in Sindh, I’m hopeful. Telemedicine could mean her child gets timely care, sparing her a harrowing trip. But hope alone won’t cut it. Pakistan stands at a crossroads: embrace telemedicine thoughtfully, with equity at its core, or risk a future where healthcare remains out of reach for millions. It’s a chance to rewrite the story of access—one call, one click, one life at a time.
