Three years ago, I was sitting in my room staring at medical school acceptance letters from the US. The tuition fees made my stomach drop – $60,000 a year. I did the math. Five years. That’s $300,000 before I even finish my residency. My parents had saved some money, but not that much. I was stressed, angry, confused. Then my uncle – who’s a doctor in Dubai – called me. He said, “Why don’t you look at the Best medical colleges in china?” I laughed. I actually laughed. But I was desperate, so I started researching. What I found shocked me.
I started talking to people. Real people. Not just websites. I found Instagram accounts of Indian students in Shanghai. I found a WhatsApp group of Pakistani med students in Beijing. I reached out to a girl from my town who was studying in Xiamen. She FaceTimed me at midnight her time just to answer my questions. That’s when things got real for me. She told me stories – funny stories, scary stories, overwhelming stories. Medical school stories. Just from a different country.
When I started my investigation, I wasn’t looking for hype. I was looking for answers. Can I actually become a doctor? Will it be real? Will people respect my degree? Will I waste five years? Let me tell you exactly what I discovered.
My cousin sent me her fee breakdown. I still have it saved on my phone. Her five-year program costs about $45,000 total. That’s what one year costs in America. When I showed my parents, my mom actually got teary. She said she could manage that. We could actually afford this. No massive loans. No debt hanging over my head before I even start practicing.
But here’s what I realized – I wasn’t paying for a discount. I was paying normal prices for normal education. The reason it’s cheaper isn’t because it’s worse. It’s because China doesn’t charge $10,000 just for brand name. They charge for actual education. I asked another student about this, and she said, “It’s like comparing a branded water bottle to a normal one. The water is the same. You’re just not paying for the logo.”
I did something weird. I looked up professors on ResearchGate and Google Scholar. Some of these people have published research. Real research. In actual medical journals. One professor I found has over 50 publications. Another had collaborated with universities in Germany and the US. These aren’t just teachers reading from textbooks. These are actual doctors who’ve been in the field, who’ve treated patients, who’ve contributed to medical knowledge.
I video called a student in her third year. I asked her straight up – are the teachers good? She said, “See, it depends on the teacher, like everywhere else. Some are amazing. Some are boring. But they know what they’re teaching. That part is solid.” She wasn’t trying to sell me a dream. She was being honest.
I contacted the medical board in my country. I sent an email asking if degrees from Chinese medical colleges are recognized. They replied saying yes – with conditions. You need to pass our exams. You need to do your training here. You need to prove you’re competent. Fair enough, right? A doctor from Harvard has to do the same thing.
Then I found a WhatsApp group of doctors who studied in China and are now practicing in the UK, Canada, UAE, Australia, and back home. I asked them point blank – did people discriminate? One doctor from Lagos who’s practicing in Toronto said, “My degree got me in the door. My skills kept me there. That’s how it works everywhere.” Another doctor in Abu Dhabi said her salary is the same as her colleagues who studied in the US. Nobody treats her differently.
My cousin sent me photos from her first day. Her class had 25 students. Four from India, three from Egypt, two from Nigeria, two from Pakistan, one from Kenya, one from Bangladesh, three from China, and the rest from other countries. She said the first conversation in the cafeteria was awkward – everyone wondering if they made the right choice. By week two, they were friends. By month two, they were study group.
One Egyptian girl in her class told her, “This is actually better than studying in Egypt because at least we all have the same language barrier. Nobody’s native English speaker, so nobody feels stupid.” That stuck with me. Nobody feeling stupid for asking questions in English. That’s actually beautiful.
My cousin started her clinical rotations last year. She sent me photos from the teaching hospital. It’s not a training dummy factory. It’s an actual hospital with actual patients. She’s been shadowing doctors, doing patient rounds, learning how to take histories, how to examine patients. She treats real people. Real people who come to the hospital because they’re sick, not because they’re dummies for medical students to practice on.
She told me one story that I still remember. She was on the pediatric ward. A mother brought her child with fever and cough. My cousin was there, learning. The attending physician let her listen to the child’s chest, guided her through the physical exam, asked her questions. That’s how doctors learn everywhere. Not from videos. From doing it. She was doing it in China, but it was the same process.
I asked people this question specifically because it mattered to me. You finish five years – then what? Do you get stuck in China?
This happened with someone from my city. Raj finished his medical degree in Wuhan. He came back. He had to pass the Indian medical licensing exam – which he did. Now he’s doing his residency in Mumbai. He’s earning money. He’s a doctor. He’s doing exactly what he would’ve done if he studied in India, except he saved his family about $200,000 in the process. His parents’ house didn’t need to be mortgaged. That matters.
My cousin’s classmate from Sudan is looking at residency programs in the UK. She said her degree is recognized there, so she’s applying. If she gets in, she stays in the UK. If not, she goes back to Sudan. The point is – her options aren’t closed. They’re open.
One girl I know from Kenya finished her MBBS and is now doing a Master’s in Epidemiology. Another is pursuing higher studies in surgery. The degree opens doors instead of closing them.
I asked this to maybe fifteen people. A doctor named Priya who’s practicing in Melbourne said, “Look, my degree had to be recognized by the Australian Medical Board. I took their exams. I did my training here. Now I’m registered and licensed. My certificate from China sits in my drawer. But my Australian registration? That’s what matters. And I got it.” Another doctor in Dubai said the same thing – just with different paperwork. The degree gets you started. Your skills keep you going.
Honest answer – most classes are in English. You’ll pick up Chinese naturally. One girl from Nigeria said, “I learned Chinese by living there. I didn’t study it formally. I just lived life – went to markets, made friends, watched videos. By year two, I could have basic conversations. By year five, I could watch Chinese medical lectures without subtitles.” She wasn’t a languages genius either. She just lived there.
Yes. One student told me, “Med school is hard everywhere. The only difference is I’m broke everywhere, but I have less student debt here.” Another student said, “You will cry. You will question your life choices. You will have clinical rotations where you work 12 hours and learn nothing, just like anywhere else. The difference is your parents aren’t spending $100,000 a year for you to cry and learn nothing.”
I was scared about this part. Being alone. Being far from family. My cousin said the first month was the hardest. By month two, she had friends. By month three, she had a routine. She video calls my parents every Sunday. She visits home during breaks. She’s not stranded. She’s a student living in a different country – which thousands of people do every year.
My cousin lives in a dorm room. It’s small but clean. She pays about $120 a month. She has a roommate from Thailand. They get along okay. Some students rent apartments which gives you more freedom. She said if she had gotten into a US school, she’d pay $2,000+ for similar or worse housing. The difference matters.
If you’re serious about this – and I mean genuinely considering it, not just daydreaming – you need real information. Check out https://www.edurizon.in/study-destinations/study-mbbs-in-china. They actually helped my cousin with her application. They were honest with her. They told her which colleges are good, which are okay, what to expect. They didn’t just try to push her somewhere. They actually listened to her goals and matched her with the right school.
I decided to study in China. I’m two years into my program now. Do I regret it? Not for a second. Is it perfect? No. Is anything? My university has bureaucratic issues. Some teachers aren’t great communicators. The food took me three months to get used to. I miss home more than I thought I would.
But I’m getting a legitimate medical education. I’m training in actual hospitals with real patients. My teachers care about what they’re teaching. My classmates are from around the world and they’re all serious about medicine. My family didn’t have to bankrupt themselves. And when I finish, I’ll have options.
When people ask me about the top 10 medical colleges in china, I don’t give them a sales pitch. I tell them the truth. These aren’t backup options. They’re real options for serious students. They’re affordable without being cheap. They’re challenging without being traumatizing. They produce doctors who work everywhere – in their home countries, in neighboring countries, in completely different countries.
If you’re standing where I stood three years ago – staring at bills that don’t make sense, wondering if your dream is possible – then the top 10 medical colleges in china might be your answer. Not because they’re perfect. But because they’re real, they’re possible, and they work.