I finally found my way to Banting House during their hours of operation.  I posted a while ago about my delight in discovering that the site, which is labeled “The Birthplace of Insulin”, is mere blocks from my  home in London.  I’m pretty fond of insulin as it’s been keeping me alive since 1993. 

Last week I visited the museum with a couple of friends.  There was a friendly, middle-aged man acting as “tour guide”, who seemed a bit too eager to tell us about everything in the house.  I expect the museum doesn’t see a lot of traffic.  But he gave us the run down on each room, the history of diabetes and of Sir Frederick Banting and was very knowledgeable and easy to talk to. 

It turns out that Dr. Banting only lived in this house for a mere 10 months, running a largely unsuccessful medical practice (he only had one patient in the whole 10 months) and the actual discovery of insulin did not occur here.  However, it was in an upstairs bedroom where Dr. Banting woke in the middle of the night to scribble down a few notes that had come to him while he was sleeping.  Notes which were the birth of Dr. Banting’s research and resulting discovery of insulin, a discovery which is hailed as one of the greatest medical discoveries of the twentieth century, saving millions of lives . 

Prior to the discovery of insulin the only treatment for diabetes was a “starvation diet” which limited the patient to 1000 calories per day.  Food was cooked and then re-cooked several times until almost all nutritional value was removed from the food.  Patients would manage to survive on this diet for approximately six months before dying of starvation.  It was a gruesome diagnosis.  Dr. Banting received the Nobel prize for his discovery and was the first Canadian and the youngest person to receive this distinguished award at that time.  I also learned that Dr. Banting was courted by a variety of companies who wished to buy the recipe for insulin from him in order to make a huge profit but Banting refused to sell it because he said that “Insulin belongs to the world”. He sold the recipe for $1.00 to the University of Toronto and insulin quickly became available to diabetics everywhere.  Banting is a hero to people across the globe.

When our eager-beaver tour guide took us up to the bedroom where Banting’s bedroom, the actual spot where he had conceived of the idea of insulin, he told us a number very emotional of stories of people who have come to this place. It seems that Banting’s bedroom is a sort of medical mecca, a shrine or a temple for those who aspire to make similarly important medical discoveries.  They come, like worshippers, hoping for inspiration to hit them.  It is also a special place for diabetics and their families.  The idea birthed in that room saved many lives, including mine.  I didn’t expect it to be an emotional moment for me, but as I stood there and listened to the stories I got teary. I swallowed the lump in my throat and just uttered my prayer of gratitude.  I’m so thankful to be here.  Although there is still no cure, my life is as normal as it possibly can be, and I have two beautiful children and a husband who will not have to watch me wasting away, starving myself, just to buy a few more months with them.  It felt holy.  It felt sacred. 

I hope you don’t think I’m all fruity now.  But it was an interesting experience for me.  I have a new appreciation for Dr. Banting as a person.  There are a lot of stories about his interactions with people and he sounds like a genuinely kind and compassionate person.  He was more concerned that his work help people than what it could do for his reputation and financial status.  That attitude has blessed people everywhere and will continue to do so.  There are generations of families that wouldn’t exist on this planet, except for that late night epiphany.