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DIABETES SERIES · ARTICLE 17 OF 17
Stories from the road
What diabetes actually looks like, in real South African lives.
All the medical knowledge in the world doesn't tell you what diabetes actually feels like to live with. The articles in this series have given you the facts. This one gives you the texture — what a year, or a decade, or a lifetime of diabetes looks like in South African homes.
Below are four stories that show different paths. They are illustrative composites — built from common patterns we see in clinics, support groups, and lived experience, rather than profiles of specific named individuals. Real stories from real Phila Today readers will replace these as the community grows.
Read with the question: which of these is closest to my life?
About these stories
The four stories below are composite portraits — drawn from common South African diabetes experiences but not based on specific individuals. Real life is messier than any single story. The point of these is to show patterns: how diabetes lands differently depending on age, income, family, and geography.
If you have a real diabetes story you'd like to share for a future edition of this article, write to the Phila Today team. We'll work with you to tell it well and protect your privacy.
Thabo
62 years old · Limpopo (rural) · Type 2 diabetes, diagnosed at 57
Thabo was a tractor mechanic for 40 years. The first time he heard the word diabetes was when his wife found him collapsed in the yard after a stroke. He had been ignoring the constant thirst and the weight loss for over a year because the nearest clinic was an hour away on a minibus taxi and he didn't want to take a day off work.
He spent two weeks in hospital. When he came out, he could walk again but not work the heavy machinery. His blood sugar was 22 mmol/L. His HbA1c was over 12%.
The first year was hard. He needed insulin, which he had to inject twice a day. His wife learned to inject him because his hands shook. He hated the daily routine and missed doses regularly. His HbA1c stayed above 10%.
Things turned around in year two. A community health worker started visiting once a month and Thabo started a small vegetable garden — partly out of boredom, partly because his wife insisted. Walking around the garden became his exercise. Eating from the garden changed his diet without anyone calling it a diet. His HbA1c dropped to 7.8% by year three.
Five years on, Thabo is on metformin and a smaller dose of insulin. He gardens, he walks, he sees the clinic every three months. He has not had another stroke.
What this story shows
Late diagnosis is common in rural South Africa, and the consequences are real — but recovery and stability are absolutely possible, especially with consistent clinic contact and small everyday changes that don't feel like dieting.
Priya
34 years old · Durban · Gestational diabetes in second pregnancy, then Type 2 at 38
Priya was diagnosed with gestational diabetes during her second pregnancy. She was shocked — she's never been overweight, eats well, exercises. But there's a strong family history: her father, two aunts, both grandmothers.
She managed her GDM with diet alone. The baby was born healthy. At her 6-week postnatal test, her blood sugar was normal. The clinic told her to be screened annually because of her risk.
She forgot. For four years.
At age 38, during a routine work medical, her fasting glucose came back at 7.6 mmol/L. HbA1c was 7.2%. She had Type 2 diabetes. No symptoms, no warning — just a number she didn't expect.
The next year was rough. Not because of the diabetes itself but because of the guilt. She felt she had failed her children, herself, her family. Therapy helped her work through it. So did connecting with a South Asian diabetes Facebook group with women in similar situations.
She's now on metformin, walks 30 minutes most days, and has shifted her family's food to use a lot less white rice and white roti and a lot more vegetables and lentils. Her HbA1c is 6.4%. Her children eat better than she did at their age. She tells anyone who'll listen — get your annual screening.
What this story shows
Gestational diabetes is a warning, not a one-off event. Half of women who have it go on to develop Type 2 within a decade. Annual screening saves years of disease damage.
Lerato
16 years old · Soweto · Type 1 diabetes, diagnosed at 9
Lerato was diagnosed in primary school after a week of constant thirst and unexpected weight loss. Her grandmother — who raised her — noticed the bed-wetting first. They went to the local clinic and were referred straight to the children's hospital. Lerato was in DKA when she arrived. She spent eight days in hospital.
The first three years were a partnership between Lerato and her grandmother. Together they learned to count carbs, time meals, recognise hypos. School was harder — teachers didn't always understand, friends sometimes laughed when she had to test, lunch breaks felt isolating. Her grandmother spoke to the principal once a year and things slowly got better.
Adolescence brought a wall. At 14, Lerato started hiding test results, skipping insulin sometimes, eating with friends without dosing. Her HbA1c went from 7.1% to 9.4% over a single year. Her clinic noticed.
The rescue wasn't a lecture. It was a paediatric psychologist who specialised in teenagers with chronic illness. Three months of weekly sessions. Lerato learned that her resentment was normal, that her diabetes wasn't a punishment, that managing it wasn't a sign of weakness. Her grandmother sat in the last session and cried.
At 16, Lerato is back on track. HbA1c is 7.3%. She's preparing for matric. She wants to study nursing. She still has bad weeks. But she has language for them now, and a clinic team that doesn't shame her when she shows up not having tested for a week.
What this story shows
Adolescent rebellion against diabetes is normal and usually temporary. What carries a teenager through is connection, not control — a clinic and a family that stay in their corner without making the condition the only thing they talk about.
Anneline
48 years old · Cape Town · Type 2 diabetes, diagnosed at 45
Anneline runs a small admin business from her home in Mitchell's Plain. She is a single mother of two teenage boys. Her father died of complications from diabetes when she was 19, so when her own diagnosis came at 45, it came with grief and dread.
She decided from day one that she would do this differently to her father. She bought a glucose meter. She read every Sweet Life article she could find. She got an HbA1c of 6.8% in her first six months on metformin alone — no insulin, no other medication.
But the mental side was heavy. The fear of complications kept her up at night. She watched her boys eat and worried about their futures. She tested too often. She read about every story of amputation she could find.
After about a year, her clinic GP gently suggested she see a psychologist about health anxiety. She resisted at first — she was managing her diabetes well, what was there to fix? — but eventually went. Three months of CBT later, she had tools to handle the worry without letting it consume her.
Three years on, her HbA1c is steady at 6.5%. She tests once a day, not five. She walks the dog every evening with her older son. She has occasional bad days but knows how to recover. She speaks about diabetes openly in her community church, where others have started asking her questions. She has become, without intending to, the diabetes voice in her congregation.
What this story shows
Good control isn't only about medication and food. The mental side matters just as much — and treating it makes everything else sustainable. Anneline went from white-knuckled vigilance to confident routine, with the help of three months of therapy.
What these stories have in common
Each story is different — different family situations, different ages, different parts of the country, different forms of diabetes. But four patterns repeat across all of them:
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The first year is the hardest. Whether the diagnosis was sudden (Lerato) or accidental (Priya), the first 12 months are about absorbing the shock and finding a routine.
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The clinic relationship matters. In every story, the right clinic team — or the right intervention from that team — turned a bad year into a good one.
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The mental side is part of the medical side. Anneline needed therapy. Lerato needed therapy. Thabo needed a way out of his isolation. Priya needed to forgive herself. The body responds, but only when the mind has been heard too.
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Recovery is non-linear. Every story has setbacks. Every story has slow returns. The arc is upward — but not in a straight line.
If you want to share your story
Phila Today is interested in real stories from real South African diabetics — and we mean ordinary people, not just inspirational athletes or social media personalities. Particularly we'd love to hear from:
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People who manage diabetes with very limited budgets
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Older adults who have lived with it for decades
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Parents of children with Type 1
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Teenagers willing to talk about the hard stuff
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Men — diabetic men's stories are particularly under-represented
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People from rural areas where access to clinics is limited
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Anyone who has come back from a bad place
We will:
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Interview you (in person, on the phone, or by written exchange — your choice)
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Write the story with you, not about you
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Let you review and edit before anything is published
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Protect your privacy — anonymise if you prefer, change identifying details, use first names only
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Pay a small honorarium for your time once the site is monetised
Email stories\@philatoday.co.za (or use the website contact form) to start the conversation.
Why stories matter
Medical content tells you what to do. Stories tell you what it feels like. Both are needed. The best diabetes education in the world fails when readers can't imagine themselves in it — when the advice is written for someone in another country, another income bracket, another culture.
South Africa has tens of thousands of stories of people walking this road. Most never get told. Phila Today exists to change that, one story at a time.
The next and final article in this extended series is a monthly newsletter template — the way we want to keep these conversations going beyond the article archive.
Where to get more help
Diabetes South Africa — diabetessa.org.za · 011 792 9888
Type 1 Diabetes SA — active patient and parent community
Sweet Life Diabetes Community — sweetlife.org.za — SA's longest-running diabetes community magazine
Phila Today contact — to share a story, email stories\@philatoday.co.za
Phila Today Diabetes Series — next: the monthly newsletter template
Phila Today · Article 17 of 17 in the Diabetes Series