Skip to main content

The quiet rise of DIY healthcare

Tired of battling pain and neuropathy after her bilateral total knee replacement, my eighty-two-year-old mother finally said she wanted to see an orthopedic. I arranged everything, got her into a rickshaw, and we made our way to the clinic she had long believed would be the answer to her suffering.

DIY healthcare woman massaging her knee

The doctor, absorbed in the election results on his mobile, examined and asked her a few routine questions, dismissed her concerns, and prescribed her for two weeks. As we were about to leave, he reminded us to show him the purchased medicines.

The real blow came at the pharmacy: four thousand five hundred rupees for a week’s supply. My mother walked out defeated, returning to the same private struggle she had hoped to escape. And that moment marked the beginning of her own makeshift, do-it-yourself (DIY) path through healthcare.

Within weeks, the doorbell became a constant soundtrack. Foot massagers arrived, and then joint exercisers and posture devices. An assortment of gadgets, all promising relief, one after another. She drew up her own food lists, restrictions, and routines with surprising discipline. She doubled down on yoga and breathing practices she had followed for years, now treating them as medical obligations. And instead of turning to YouTube, she pulled out my grandfather’s old war manual, searching for the structured routines that once defined his life.

What seemed like personal eccentricity turned out to be something far more common. The shift toward devices, routines, manuals, and self-fashioned systems mirrored something I was beginning to see everywhere. At a bank recently, I overheard two older men discussing their orthopedic’s advice – just quadriceps exercises and how they had devised their own ways to manage their conditions at home.

Why are people turning away from the system?

The more people I spoke to, the clearer the trend became: many were quietly drifting away from formal healthcare and patching together treatment systems on their own. Not because they preferred it, but because they increasingly felt cornered into it. The trend is inspired by a shortage of doctors, long waiting times for appointments, and the increasing prevalence of chronic diseases.

Online tutorials and wellness influencers offered simple solutions that doctors didn’t have time to explain. Ayurveda-based nutrition plans gained traction as people sought alternatives to pharmaceutical interventions. Family wisdom is being rediscovered. New technologies give people confidence to self-navigate their health in ways previous generations never could.

This shift offers real benefits- greater autonomy, less dependence on overloaded hospitals, and a focus on prevention. But the risks loom large. I’ve watched people misdiagnose themselves, delay essential care, create entire belief systems around supplements and gadgets they half-understand. A silent suffering class is emerging, people who avoid formal care entirely.

As for my mother, is she recovering? Sort of. She’s managing. She’s found her own way through, not the cure she hoped for, but a system she can control. And that’s what DIY healthcare really offers: not solutions, but the illusion of an agency in a system that offers so little of it, the faint feeling of steering a ship no one else seems willing to captain.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

World Book Day

Usha Vance became the Second Lady of the United States, following JD Vance, her husband’s election as Vice President. An accomplished attorney and the first Asian-American holding the position. Last week, she occupied the center stage in India. A lot was talked about the book Iliad, which  she carried during the campaign for her husband. What interested me was neither of them, but her title. It reminded me of something I had read years ago. Irving Wallace’s THE SECOND LADY. In our younger days, we frequented libraries and often the shops at Janpath in Delhi to buy reasonably priced paperbacks or second-hand books. My sister and I visited our chachi to borrow her library books. She would recommend them, much like Goodreads . Those were not the times of the internet, and recommendations were always made through word of mouth. I remember her narration of the political thriller. “ The first lady of the United States is abducted during a state visit to Moscow and replaced by a Russi...

THE FRUIT OF LABOR

Notification alerts continued one after the other and I knew it had to be my sister. Next morning her WhatsApp did not seem so interesting. Thank God! I never got up at midnight to see these. There were images of mud, plants and potatoes. Nothing new, I put it aside without a thought and sipped my early morning tea. As I read further, scrolling down the images was her excited note on her home grown organic potatoes. Now that was a bait I asked her "miraculous, since when have you started all this". "While composting for my garden I had accidentally left a potato in the garbage ditch. This was my discovery just today" she answered and I could imagine her admiring those potatoes. "Great guns," I responded. The matter rested after this for a few months. The feathers were ruffled again as she posted images of tomato, eggplants and potato plants neatly planted along the sidewalls, her today's endeavor .Thanks to our family group messaging system, ginger a...

Yoga se hoga… pr yoga kaise hoga? (It will happen by yoga- but how will yoga happen?)

If you have ever tried starting yoga, you know the struggle: motivation fades, and mats gather dust. For me, yoga was always on my bucket list, but what I needed was the intent to start. Then something unexpected happened. My yoga group formed an unusual trio: my 80-year-old mother, my niece visiting from the USA, and me. Every morning at 6:30 am, we gathered not in the garden but in front of our TV to tune into live yoga sessions by Saurabh Bothra. And guess what? Yoga did happen. It wasn’t perfect, but it was consistent. We stretched, laughed, and even dozed off in shavaasan, but slowly, breath by breath, a habit was born. Because sometimes all it takes is showing up together.