Antidiabetic effects of pancreatic extract limited
Back in 1869, Paul Langerhans, MD, discovered pancreatic islet cells, or islets of Langerhans, as a medical student. Researchers tried to produce extracts that lowered blood glucose but they were too toxic for patient use.
In 1908, as detailed in his recent book, Insulin – the Crooked Timber, Dr. Hall also refers to the fact that a German researcher, Georg Zuelzer, MD, demonstrated in six patients that pancreatic extracts could reduce urinary levels of glucose and ketones, and that in one case, the treatment woke the patient from a coma. Dr. Zuelzer had purified the extract with alcohol but patients still experienced convulsions and coma; in fact, they were experiencing hypoglycemic shock, but Dr. Zuelzer had not identified it as such.
“He thought his preparation was full of impurities – and that’s the irony. He had in his hands an insulin prep that was so clean and so potent that it sent the test animals into hypoglycemic shock,” Dr. Hall pointed out.
By 1921, two young researchers, Frederick G. Banting, MD, a practicing medical doctor in Toronto, together with a final year physiology student at the University of Toronto, Charles H. Best, MD, DSc, collaborated on the instruction of Dr. Best’s superior, John James Rickard Macleod, MBChB, professor of physiology at the University of Toronto, to make pancreatic extracts, first from dogs and then from cattle.
University of Toronto/public domain
Dr. Charles H. Best and Dr. Frederick G. Banting, circa 1924
Over the months prior to treating Thompson, working together in the laboratory, Dr. Banting and Dr. Best prepared the pancreatic extract from cattle and tested it on dogs with diabetes.
Then, in what amounted to a phase 1 trial of its day, with an “n of one,” a frail and close-to-death Thompson was given 15 cc of pancreatic extract at Toronto General Hospital in January 1922. His blood glucose level dropped by 25%, but unfortunately, his body still produced ketones, indicating the antidiabetic effect was limited. He also experienced an adverse reaction at the injection site with an accumulation of abscesses.
So despite success with isolating the extract and administering it to Thompson, the product remained tainted with impurities.
At this point, colleague James Collip, MD, PhD, came to the rescue. He used his skills as a biochemist to purify the pancreatic extract enough to eliminate impurities.
When Thompson was treated 2 weeks later with the purified extract, he experienced a more positive outcome. Gone was the injection site reaction, gone were the high blood glucose levels, and Thompson “became brighter, more active, looked better, and said he felt stronger,” according to a publication describing the treatment.
Dr. Collip also determined that by over-purifying the product, the animals he experimented on could overreact and experience convulsions, coma, and death due to hypoglycemia from too much insulin.
Fighting talk
Recalling an excerpt from Dr. Banting’s diary, Dr. Hall said that Dr. Banting had a mercurial temper and testified to his loss of patience with Dr. Collip when the chemist refused to share his formula of purification. His diary reads: “I grabbed him in one hand by the overcoat ... and almost lifting him I sat him down hard on the chair ... I remember telling him that it was a good job he was so much smaller – otherwise I would ‘knock hell out of him.’ ”
According to Dr. Hall, in 1923, when Dr. Banting and Dr. Macleod were jointly awarded the Nobel Prize for Medicine, Dr. Best resented being excluded, and despite Dr. Banting’s sharing half his prize money with Dr. Best, animosity prevailed.
At one point, before leaving on a plane for a wartime mission to the United Kingdom, Dr. Banting noted that if he didn’t make it back alive, “and they give my [professorial] chair to that son-of-a-bitch Best, I’ll never rest in my grave.” In a cruel twist of fate, Dr. Banting’s plane crashed and all aboard died.
The Nobel Prize had also been a source of rivalry between Dr. Banting and his boss, Dr. Macleod. In late 1921, while presenting the findings from animal models at the American Physiological Society conference, Dr. Banting’s nerves got the better of him and Dr. Macleod took over at the podium to finish the talk. Dr. Banting perceived this as his boss stealing the limelight.
University of Toronto/public domain
Dr. John James Rickard Macleod, circa 1928
Only a few months later, at the Association of American Physicians annual conference, Dr. Macleod played to an audience for a second time by making the first formal announcement of the discovery to the scientific community. Notably, Dr. Banting was absent.
The Nobel Prize or a poisoned chalice?
Awarded annually for physics, chemistry, medicine/physiology, literature, peace, and economics, Nobel Prizes are usually considered the holy grail of achievement. In 1895, funds for the prizes were bequeathed by Alfred Nobel in his last will and testament, with each prize worth around $40,000 at the time (approximately $1,000,000 in today’s value).
Writing in 2001 in the journal Diabetes Voice, Professor Sir George Alberti, DPhil, BM BCh, former president of the UK Royal College of Physicians, summarized the burden that accompanies the Nobel Prize: “I personally believe that such prizes and awards do more harm than good and should be abolished. Many a scientist has gone to their grave feeling deeply aggrieved because they were not awarded a Nobel Prize.”
Such high stakes surround the prize that, in the case of insulin, the course of its discovery meant courtesies and truth were swept aside in hot pursuit of fame. After Dr. Macleod died in 1935 and Dr. Banting died in 1941, Dr. Best took the opportunity to try to revise history. There was the small obstacle of Dr. Collip, but Dr. Best managed to play down Dr. Collip’s contribution by focusing on the eureka moment as being the first insulin dose administered, despite the fact that a more complete recovery without side effects was later achieved only with Dr. Collip’s help.
Despite exclusion from the Nobel Prize, Dr. Best nevertheless became recognized as the “go-to-guy” for the discovery of insulin, said Dr. Hall. When Dr. Best spoke about the discovery of insulin at the New York Diabetes Association meeting in 1946, he was introduced as a speaker whose reputation was already so great that he did “not require much of an introduction.”
“And when a new research institute was opened in Toronto in 1953, it was named in his honor. The opening address, by Sir Henry Dale of the UK Medical Research Council, sang Best’s praises to the rafters, much to the disgruntlement of Best’s former colleague, James Collip, who was sitting in the audience,” Dr. Hall pointed out.
Both Dr. Hall and Dr. Stephens live with type 1 diabetes and have benefited from the efforts of Dr. Banting, Dr. Best, Dr. Collip, Dr. Zuelzer, and Dr. Macleod.
“The discovery of insulin was a miracle, it has allowed people to survive,” said Dr. Stephens. “Few medicines can reverse a death sentence like insulin can. It’s easy to forget how it was when insulin wasn’t there – and it wasn’t that long ago.”
Dr. Hall reflects that scientific progress and discovery are often portrayed as being the result of towering geniuses standing on each other’s shoulders.
“But I think that when German philosopher Immanuel Kant remarked that ‘Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing can ever be made,’ he offered us a much more accurate picture of how science works. And I think that there’s perhaps no more powerful example of this than the story of insulin,” he said.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.