What I learned as the primary caregiver for a diabetic parent

My name’s Nirvaanika. I grew up in Kolkata surrounded by family traditions and the rich culinary flavours of Bengali cuisine. But in 2021, my mom was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and the course of my life abruptly changed.

As my mom’s primary caregiver, I had to balance her medical needs against the cultural demands of our Indian home – This meant stopping my mother from having her standard luxurious meals and coming up with a daily routine to help her take her medicines.

Taking care of my mother and her diabetes taught me many things, including:

• Diabetes can cause mood swings.
• As a caregiver, I need to be caring but also sensitive, responsible, and committed to furthering my own education on diabetes.

The early years of my mother's struggle with diabetes

My mother was in her early fifties when she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.

Her first reaction was a mix of dismissal and scepticism. She dismissed the doctor’s concerns, saying, “It’s just a little high sugar.”

To her, diabetes wasn’t a disease but a nuisance. One she decided to treat through traditional home remedies – Drinking bitter gourd juice, eating soaked fenugreek seeds, and relying on Ayurveda rather than contemporary medicine.

I watched as she rejected medication, thinking that altering her diet and following traditional lore would control her blood sugar level. Like many Indian parents, she didn’t believe in Western medicine and stood by her generation-held beliefs. It took years before she finally acknowledged that diabetes wasn’t a matter of diet but a chronic disease that required medical attention.

Through these early years, I discovered that convincing a loved one to take diabetes seriously requires patience, persistence, and sometimes, tough love.

Her battles with food and cultural norms

Unsurprisingly, my mother’s biggest battles against diabetes were often fought at the dinner table. Growing up in Kolkata, we were surrounded by rich, carb-heavy fare – Fluffy luchis, aromatic biryanis, and irresistible mishti.

For my mother, food wasn’t mere nourishment; it was tradition, celebration, and expression of love. When I tried to watch my portions, she would protest that I had to “eat properly”. And the idea of rationing rice or sweets was almost unthinkable (she loved sweets).

When I tried to help her with diet control, she resisted. She would prepare sugar-spiced chai and fried foods, saying, “A little bit won’t hurt”. But that’s not true with diabetes. The ‘little bits’ added up, and her out-of-control blood sugars showed it.

Eventually, we compromised. We didn’t eliminate traditional food completely, but we did modify the recipes – Using brown rice instead of white, replacing sugar with jaggery, and practising portion control.

My lesson here was that diabetes management in an Indian household isn’t about rigid restrictions. It’s a matter of compromise and balance.

Her emotional burden and resistance to seeking help

Diabetes isn’t just a physical disease – It’s an emotional one as well.

My mother struggled with mood swings, fatigue and frustration. On some days she was full of energy and optimism. Others, she was defeated by the roller-coaster of her sugar levels.

And she resisted seeking help, not wishing to admit she was struggling. Asking for help, in her eyes, was a flaw. However, managing diabetes on her own was exhausting.

It wasn’t until she experienced serious dizziness and fatigue that she accepted she needed assistance (from both loved ones and professionals).

I encouraged her to talk about her battles and to share her fears. It wasn’t easy, but slowly she began to open up. We started to carry the burden together, sharing meal planning, going on daily walks, and sitting down together for candid chats.

My learning from this was that managing diabetes takes more than just medication and diet. You need emotional support and support groups.

Her wake-up call, from complications

After a few years, my mother began to experience nerve pain and eye complications.

She blamed herself and regretted the years she spent ignoring medical advice and neglecting to take her medication. It was heartbreaking, watching her realise that her diabetes, left unchecked, had taken a serious toll.

This was the hardest lesson for both of us – There are no shortcuts, no do-it-yourself remedy that can undo years of uncontrolled blood sugar. My mother’s diabetes-related complications were a wake-up call that made her finally take her doctor’s instructions seriously and take her medicine.

Because diabetes doesn’t forgive complacency. And if you want to prevent lifetime complications, you have to manage it early.

Final thoughts – A new chapter of acceptance and management

After her scare with her diabetes-related complications, my mother’s attitude to her disease changed. And she’s changed her life completely.

• She continues to indulge in some of her favourite sweets, but sparingly.
• She takes her medicine as prescribed, without fail.
• She tests her blood sugar levels regularly.
• She lives a better-balanced life.

It took years of slip-ups and agonising conversations, but we got there.

For me, supporting my mother as she’s managed her diabetes has been an education in patience, strength, and cultural sensitivity. I’ve had to shift my perspective, slowly learning that diabetes management in an Indian home isn’t just a matter of medical care – It also requires redefining customs, promoting understanding, and honouring both health and the heritage of the disease.

I’ve seen first-hand that diabetes doesn’t define someone – It tests them.

And with that struggle comes an opportunity to learn, adapt, and ultimately thrive.

Caring for my mother has been a life-changing experience for me. It’s tried our relationship, strengthened our bond, and shifted our daily life. There have been rough times, moments of frustration, and many adjustments to support her well-being. But it’s brought us together. And I don’t see it as a burden anymore, but rather a journey – One that has shown us the true meaning of care, adjustment, and the strength of family.