Not So Sweet Memories

19th October 2026

She had a very normal, active life before 01/12/24, and so did we. But everything changed that day.

I clearly remember it was a Sunday; we had our usual omelette-bread Sunday breakfast. The moment she finished it, she vomited it out. She complained of feeling uneasy and rested till late noon. When she woke up at 5.30 pm, she was not her usual self. The way she looked at things, her gaze, was different. Upon asking, she agreed to a cup of coffee. Then she started talking about her childhood and her gestures were as if she was an 8-9 year old girl. We did not understand at first. We waited till the next morning; it was Monday. We did not let her go to work; yes, she was actively working for a manufacturing plant in the government sector. We took her to the hospital. The moment we were walking into the lobby, I noticed she wasn't walking straight. Her feet leaned more toward the right side of her body. I tried to lend her a helping hand, but she refused. I still remained calm because we were about to reach the doctor's cabin.

After the primary check-up, we were advised to meet a neurologist. The moment the neurologist saw her, he recommended an MRI and CT scan, which meant we had to admit her to hospital; we were not prepared for that. Our 10-year-old was about to reach home from his school. So I rushed home. I went back at 4.30 pm with a few basic things that she might require during her stay at the hospital and some food for my husband. I saw him sitting helpless in front of the MRI scan section. He was very calm. I sat next to him and asked, "What happened?"
"Mom has had a brain stroke. There are 5 blood clots in her brain. She may lose her senses, memory, and estimate of time, space, and speed." And I went numb. While my husband took her to her room in the hospital in a wheelchair, her neck leaning on her right shoulder, I entered the doctor's cabin to confirm what my husband had just said, because it was unbelievable and unexpected. The doctor marked a seal of confirmation. And all I could ask was, "How? And why?"

He said, "I can only say that her sugar spikes have been uneven. Seems she hasn't taken proper care of her diabetes and did not consult the right person for help." "But she has been taking all her medicines regularly, doctor. She has her blood sample tested regularly at her workplace. She is a very active and strong-willed woman." The doctor understood I was trying to control my tears. And he did his best to console me, but he needed to draw a boundary as well. So he left to see other patients.

And from that day, I lost a very good friend, gossip partner, evening coffee and bhutta companion, shopping buddy, all in one. She is my mother in law, but to me she has been more than that. It's been two years since I am a caretaker to her. She refuses to have a professional caretaker. I still remember when her primary checkup was going on; the doctor pointed to me and asked her, "What is your relationship with her?" Just to check her memory, she replied, "She is my daughter." I stepped outside the cabin and cried because I had already sensed something terrible was coming our way.



I know I am repeating my words, but I have always seen my mother-in-law as a strong and independent woman. The day her regular blood test was found to be diabetic, she informed us calmly, mentioning that the doctor had prescribed her medicines, and she would take them on time, which she did. While we are struggling to know the reason behind her stroke, she is struggling to remember things and execute basic daily tasks in her capacity. There are times when she fights with my son like a sibling; she feels less valued and unimportant. There is an identity crisis we constantly see in her eyes, remembering things, remembering her past. Due to the fear that she doesn’t remember anything, she speaks less, because she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself. She fears speaking about anything wrong and then being judges about it, and hence, she doesn't speak at all. We can sense it, and all we can do is wait for her to express it, but she doesn't.

One Sunday, I was out for an open mic event, and it got late. When I called my husband at 10.30 pm to inform him I was leaving, he told me she did not take her insulin from him, and hence her dinner was also pending. She only wanted me to give her the insulin shot. I felt so guilty because, for a diabetic patient, the key is to have their insulin shots and meals on time.

From that day, I avoid going to events if the timings are around her insulin shot times.

Her retirement party, which was in August 2026, was quiet and homely. One of her colleagues Mr. Dilip (or should I say ex-colleague), enquired about what exactly happened to her. When I narrated the whole incident to him, he told me about FreeStyle Libre CGM system. It is a painless way to see your glucose levels without finger pricks. As in her case, keeping track of her sugar levels is crucial and recommended. Also, the conventional method of pricking used to leave her irritated. But Mr. Dilip also advised me to consult her doctor before starting to use it.

Who would have thought uneven sugar spikes could rewrite an entire family’s story overnight? It’s a harsh reminder of how fragile health can be, even for those we think are invincible.

Our home isn't as loud as it used to be, and our days are now anchored around medicine schedules and silent understanding. But every time she looks at me, I choose to remember not just what was taken from us, but the love that remains. Caregiving wasn't the plan, but holding her hand through this quiet chapter is my way of giving back the grace she always gave me.

Disclaimer: This article has been written as part of an awareness initiative by Blogchatter and reflects the author’s personal views. It is for informational purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment recommendations. Please consult your doctor for advice specific to your individual health needs.