This article was written by Doug Lowenstein, whose daughter Emma was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes (T1D) in 2001 at age 14. He and his wife, Shelley Lowenstein, are long-time Breakthrough T1D supporters. Doug has worked as a Breakthrough T1D volunteer for 20+ years in the search for therapies to cure, prevent, and treat T1D. Check out Doug’s other compelling articles covering the journeys of automated insulin delivery and teplizumab (Tzield). The views expressed by the author are his own and are not necessarily representative of Breakthrough T1D or our leadership, employees, or supporters.
A First-of-its-Kind Event
A decade ago, when I served on the Breakthrough T1D International Board of Directors, I grumbled that most of the pioneering research we funded was revealed at the annual American Diabetes Association’s Scientific Sessions, making it seem as if ADA was driving all the exciting progress in the field. It drove me crazy.
Crazy no more.
On October 9, the doors of the Pennsylvania Convention Center in downtown Philadelphia opened for Breakthrough T1D’s first-ever Clinical and Research Congress. When I walked into the cavernous building, I thought I was in the wrong place. It seemed empty. Then I wandered into one of the three meeting rooms where sessions were underway, and in that moment, I knew everything had changed.
Breakthrough T1D had laid down a marker. It was already the most important funder of T1D research. Now it was signaling to the world that it would also be the organization that brings scientists, patients, and clinicians together to accelerate progress toward curing and preventing T1D.
Surrounded by the Best and Brightest in T1D
Over the next two and a half days, I felt like I was surrounded by the Timothée Chalamets and Taylor Swifts of T1D. Look over there, it’s David Harlan, a longtime leader in diabetes research and clinical care at UMass Chan Medical School. Over there is Peter Senior, one of the pioneers of islet transplantation at the University of Alberta. Isn’t that Kimber Simmons, the pediatric endocrinologist at the Barbara Davis Center who is driving T1D screening? Is that Colin Dayan, the UK immunologist? And Belgium’s Chantal Mathieu, who has led the European diabetes research consortium?
During the conference, I attended panels where I barely understood a word. It didn’t matter. I could feel the vibes rippling through the sessions among those who did understand the importance of what they were hearing. It was like sitting through an Italian opera: I didn’t understand most of the words, but I could feel the power of the voices, and that power lifted my spirits. In short, I lived off the buzz.
An Electric Atmosphere
What struck me most was the reaction among attendees. With the field now awash in T1D developments, from disease-modifying therapies to cell therapies to gene therapies and more advanced technology, seasoned, maybe even somewhat jaded scientists who go to literally half a dozen conferences a year were bubbling with excitement and energy. One person told me she attends many diabetes conferences around the world, and each time, in the weeks leading up to the event, she scours the program for T1D-related panels. “I started doing that a few weeks before this, and it hit me: it was ALL T1D and the challenge wasn’t finding something relevant but picking among so many compelling sessions.”
An executive at a company working on T1D therapies told me they organized a dinner on Saturday night for 15 distinguished scientists. Normally, these dinners are social; people are exhausted from the day’s intense sessions. This one was the opposite. People wanted to keep talking about what they’d heard, and the dinner became an extension of the conference, with scientists exchanging ideas, discussing future collaborations, and sharing insights. Over and over, I heard the same refrain: “This is long overdue” or “This is the best T1D conference I’ve ever attended.”
Talks that Left a Lasting Impression
Two sessions stood out for me above all others. The first was Chantal Mathieu’s keynote. She talked about the benefits of T1D technology, the promise of disease-modifying therapies, the expansion of screening, and the potential to delay insulin dependence for years. But it was her ending that struck me. I know from my own research and writing that scientific collaborations aren’t easily forged. So much is at stake: credit, prizes, and financial rewards. Work is jealously guarded and parsimoniously shared. Chantal urged the audience to go down a different path. No single person, no single lab, no single company has the definitive answer, she said; the most groundbreaking science is done not in isolation but in collaboration. Speaking softly, but powerfully, she urged everyone to work together for a greater good: the health and welfare of the patients their work is intended to benefit. It was a powerful moment, and you could feel the room respond.
The other exhilarating session was a debate between Colin Dayan and Peter Senior: “Disease modification vs. replacement therapy in T1D: Which strategy will be scalable, durable, and safe long term?” The two presented their arguments respectfully, with a bit of friendly needling. Colin said that emerging DMTs may allow for a one-and-done treatment, meaning they could be far more affordable and easily accessible, especially for children. DMTs also address the root cause of T1D from the start, rather than “putting a patch on it” later. Peter countered that far more people are living with established T1D than with early-stage T1D or a diagnosis less than 100 days old. For most of them, it is too late to preserve beta cells, so islet cell therapies, especially scalable manufactured versions, must be the solution.
From Dreams to Concrete Possibilities
But what struck me wasn’t who won the debate; it was that one could have the debate at all. A decade ago, DMTs were giant question marks and replacement therapies were still a dream. Today, there is one approved DMT and multiple cell therapies in human trials delivering promising results. A decade ago, this would have been a debate over dreams. In Philadelphia, it was a debate over concrete possibilities getting nearer and nearer to changing the lives of those with T1D forever. Whether you say that in Italian, English, or Latin, it makes my skin tingle.
And it reinforces my certainty that my daughter Emma, now 40 and living with T1D for 26 years, will not live with this disease for the rest of her life.
