The doctor said "You have diabetes..."

Have you ever watched someone you love receive news that changes everything, and felt completely helpless as they tried to figure it out on their own? I remember sitting nearby when my parents first heard the words, “You have diabetes.” I could see the shock on their faces. Life didn’t stop in that moment, but everything after it felt heavier, less certain, and quietly frightening.

What followed were doctor visits where they nodded along, trying to absorb information that never quite translated into real life. There were instructions, but no roadmap. No one really explained what daily living with diabetes was supposed to look like. No one sat down and said, “Here’s how food actually affects your blood sugar,” or “Here’s how to make this feel manageable.”

At home, I watched them do what they thought was right. Blood sugar checks multiple times a day that rarely landed where they were told they should. Numbers that swung wildly, sometimes dangerously low, sometimes frighteningly high. Appointment after appointment where the A1c never seemed to improve, no matter how hard they tried. The effort was there, sort of. The understanding was not.

Have you ever thought you were following the rules, yet still failing? That’s what it looked like from the outside. The long-term warnings about complications didn’t feel real to them yet. What felt real was the confusion. The frustration. The quiet shame of feeling like they should be doing better, even though no one had really shown them how.

There was one moment early on that still sticks with me. Too much insulin at lunch. A sudden loss of consciousness. Then paramedics. Insulin, a medication that saves lives, but can be terrifying when it isn’t fully understood. No one had explained just how powerful it was or how carefully it needed to be used. Afterward, what lingered wasn’t education or clarity, but embarrassment for them. Fear pushed aside because it felt easier not to talk about it.

And then there was food. Or more accurately, the lack of meaningful guidance around food. “You can eat whatever you want, as long as you take insulin for it.” At first, that sounded like freedom. Relief. Permission to keep things the same. In our house, meals revolved around carbohydrates. Crackers eaten by the sleeve. Pasta piled high. Cheeseburgers, fries, cookies, dessert almost every night. It was familiar. Comforting. Normal.

What I didn’t understand then, but can see clearly now, is how those meals set them up for constant guesswork. Large amounts of insulin followed by crashes and spikes that became part of everyday life. The belief was that being responsible and doing your best would be enough. Surely that would translate to managing diabetes, too.

But diabetes doesn’t work that way.

I remember moments of their panic after eating. A big sandwich, eaten quickly. The sudden realization that insulin hadn’t been taken yet. The fear rushing in. What’s going to happen now? Nothing dramatic happened in those moments, but the blood sugar almost certainly spiked. Back then, checking only a few times a day didn’t give enough information to learn from or adjust.

No one explained how quickly white bread can send blood sugar soaring. No one talked about how overwhelming a massive load of carbohydrates can be for a body already struggling to manage glucose. No one taught that the “little things” matter more than you think.

Looking back, I feel gratitude that my parents made it through those years. There’s no blame here. They were doing the best they could with the information they had. The real problem was the absence of practical, compassionate guidance. The lack of tools. The lack of education around food that felt realistic, doable, and empowering.

Because with diabetes, the small choices add up. They’re easy to overlook. And when we don’t understand them, they can quietly become dangerous.

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. And this is where a different conversation can begin. One about changing how we eat without giving up the foods we love. One about learning to cook meals that are comforting, delicious, and supportive of steadier blood sugar. One about managing diabetes not through fear or restriction, but through understanding, confidence, and care, one thoughtful choice at a time.