Caring for my mother – Managing diabetes in an Indian household

Managing type 2 diabetes is a daily battle against habits, emotions, and cultural expectations. As a young adult navigating my own diabetes diagnosis, I never imagined I’d also be the primary caregiver for my mother (who has been battling the disease for years).

At 68, my mother’s health is fragile. Every meal, routine and medical decision feels like a balancing act between tradition, love, and necessity.

Growing up in an Indian home in Kolkata meant food played a central role in every celebration. Sweets like rasgulla and gulab jamun were staples at family get-togethers, and meals were incomplete with lots of ghee and large portions of rice. And my mother, like many of her generation, associated food with love. To her, declining a second serving was practically an insult.

However, as diabetes became a key part of our lives, cultural norms like this became significant obstacles.

The daily challenges of managing my mother's diabetes

One of the most difficult parts of managing my mother’s diabetes is convincing her that she has to make some changes.

Unlike me (who had an early introduction to diabetes treatment), my mother grew up in a time when individuals relied more on traditional cures than medical counsel – She still believes that drinking bitter gourd juice can lower blood sugar and often resists taking her medication.

There were mornings when I’d wake up and find her making chai with extra sugar. When confronted on this, she’d insist, “Ek chhoti si chamach se kuch nahi hoga,” (One small spoon won’t make a difference).

But that small spoon, repeated daily, becomes a habit that keeps her blood sugar unstable. And convincing her otherwise has been a battle of patience and love.

Then there are the festivals (Diwali, Durga Puja, Holi). Visiting relatives would bring boxes of laddoos and mishti doi, urging her to, “Have just one.” And I would watch as she hesitated, torn between cultural expectations and health needs. Sometimes she would give in, and later, when her sugar levels spiked, I could see the regret in her eyes.

The emotional toll of being a caregiver

The physical burden of diabetes, however, is just one aspect of the disease. Another part, that I didn’t anticipate, is the emotional strain.

My mother, once an independent and strong-willed woman, now struggles with feelings of helplessness. There are days when she sits lost in thought by the window, watching the world outside, murmuring, “Mujhse kuch bhi theek se nahi hota ab,” (I can’t do anything properly now) – It breaks my heart to see her like this.

And there are times she gets frustrated with me for reminding her to take her medication or adjust her meals – “Tum toh doctor ban gayi ho,” (You’ve become a doctor now), she jokes, but I know she feels like her freedom is slipping away.

Some days, I feel like I’m failing her. For example, when I don’t check her sugar levels on time, raise my voice out of frustration, or struggle with my own health while taking care of hers.

What I learned managing diabetes in an Indian household

My biggest lesson from managing diabetes in an Indian family is that it requires more than just medical knowledge – You also need understanding, compromise, and cultural sensitivity.

Here are some of my key learnings:

#1 – Food can be modified, not erased

Instead of completely banning traditional foods, I’ve learned to modify them.

We make atta (whole wheat) ladoos with jaggery, not refined sugar. And our evening chai is made with stevia, not sugar.

Small changes like these allow my mother to feel she’s still connected to her roots without harming her health.

#2 – Emotional support is as important as physical care

My mother doesn’t just need a caregiver – She needs someone who listens.

Every evening, I make time to sit with her, talk about her childhood, and share stories. This simple act helps her feel valued and reduces her stress.

#3 – Community pressure is real, but it can be navigated

Indian society places a strong emphasis on social eating – Relatives often push sweets on my mother despite knowing she has diabetes.

Now, I step in and tell them, “She’ll take some home.” This allows her to participate in social traditions without compromising her health.

#4 – Patience and humour go a long way

There are days when my mother still sneaks a sweet.

Instead of scolding her, I just gently remind her. We joke about it, and I tell her, “Bas ab ek marathon bhi daud lena,” (Now just run a marathon to balance it out).

Humour makes the tough conversations easier and strengthens our bond.

Balancing my own diabetes with caregiving

One of the hardest parts of this journey has been balancing my own diabetes management while caring for my mother.

As a young adult, I’m still learning how to manage my condition, but caregiving often means putting her needs before my own. There are nights when I check her sugar levels but forget to check mine. There are mornings when I prepare her special low-carb breakfast but grab a rushed meal for myself.

I’ve come to realise that self-care isn’t selfish – Because if I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be able to effectively care for my mother.

So now I schedule my own doctor’s appointments with as much discipline as I do hers. And I strictly follow my meal plan and exercise routine.

Looking ahead

Caring for a diabetic parent while managing my own diabetes is a journey filled with love, frustration, sacrifice, and learning – Every day brings a new challenge, but it also brings a new moment of connection with my mother.

And despite all the struggles, I’m grateful for this time with her. Diabetes has forced us to communicate better, be more mindful of our health, and cherish the small victories (like keeping her blood sugar stable for a week or discovering a new healthy recipe together).

My biggest learning is that diabetes isn’t just a disease – It’s a family condition.

And in an Indian household, where love is expressed through food and traditions, balancing health with cultural values will be a lifelong effort.

For now, I just take it one day at a time – Holding my mother’s hand, walking this journey together, step by step, meal by meal, moment by moment.