New Cell Therapies Give Hope to Diabetes Patients
For nearly four decades, George Huntley has thought constantly about his diabetes. Diagnosed in 1983 with Type 1 (insulin-dependent) diabetes, Huntley began managing his condition with daily finger sticks to check his blood glucose levels and doses of insulin that he injected into his abdomen. Even now, with an insulin pump and a device that continuously monitors his glucose, he must consider how every meal will affect his blood sugar, checking his monitor multiple times each hour.
Like many of those who depend on insulin injections, Huntley is simultaneously grateful for the technology that makes his condition easier to manage and tired of thinking about diabetes. If he could wave a magic wand, he says, he would make his diabetes disappear. So when he read about biotechs like ViaCyte and Vertex Pharmaceuticals developing new cell therapies that have the potential to cure Type 1 diabetes, Huntley was excited.
You also won’t see him signing up any time soon. The therapies under development by both companies would require a lifelong regimen of drugs for suppressing the immune system to prevent the body from rejecting the foreign cells. It’s a problem also seen in the transplant of insulin-producing cells of the pancreas – called islet cells – from deceased donors. To Howard Foyt, chief medical officer at ViaCyte, a San Diego-based biotech specializing in the development of cell therapies for diabetes, the tradeoff is worth it.
“A lot of the symptoms of diabetes are not something that you wear on your arm, so to speak. You’re not necessarily conscious of them until you’re successfully treated, and you feel better,” Foyt says.
For many with diabetes, managing these symptoms is a constant game of Whack-a-Mole. “Any form of treatment that gets someone closer to feeling good is a victory,” he says.
“Am I going to be trading diabetes for cancer? That’s not a chance I
want to take."
But not everyone is convinced. What’s more, it’s likely that the availability of these cell therapies will be limited to those with life-threatening diabetes symptoms, such as hypoglycemia unawareness. To Huntley, these therapies remain a bit of a Faustian bargain.
“Am I going to be trading diabetes for cancer? That’s not a chance I want to take,” he says.
The discovery of insulin in 1921 transformed Type 1 diabetes from a death sentence into a potentially manageable condition. Even as better versions of insulin hit the market—ones that weren’t derived from pigs and wouldn’t provoke an allergic response, longer-acting insulin, insulin pens—they didn’t change the reality that those with Type 1 diabetes remained dependent on insulin. Even the most advanced continuous glucose monitors (which tests blood sugar levels every few minutes, 24/7) and insulin pumps don’t perform as well as a healthy pancreas.
Whether by injection or pump, someone with diabetes needs to administer the insulin their body no longer makes. With advances in organ transplantation, the concept of transplanting insulin-producing pancreatic beta cells seemed obvious. After more than a decade of painstaking work, James Shapiro, who directs the Islet Transplant Program at the University of Albania, honed a process called the Edmonton Protocol for pancreas transplants. For a few patients who couldn’t control their blood sugars any other way, the Edmonton Protocol became a life saver. Some of these patients were even able to stop insulin completely, Shapiro says. But the high cost of organ transplant and a chronic shortage of donor organs, pancreas or otherwise, meant that only a small handful of patients could benefit.
Stem cells, however, can be grown in vats, meaning that supply would never be an issue. “We would be going from a very successful treatment of today to a potential cure tomorrow,” Shapiro says.
In 2014, spurred by his own children’s diagnoses with Type 1 Diabetes, stem cell biologist Doug Melton of Harvard University figured out a way to differentiate embryonic stem cells into functional pancreatic beta cells. It was a long process, explains immunoengineer Alice Tomei at the University of Miami, because “the islet is not one cell, it's like a mini-organ that has its own needs.”
Add on the risk of rejection and autoimmunity, and Tomei says that scientists soon realized that chronic and systemic immunosuppression was the only way forward. Over the next several years, Melton improved his approach to yield more cells with fewer impurities. Melton partnered with Boston-based Vertex Pharmaceuticals to create a cell therapy called VX-880.
The first patient received his dose earlier in 2021. In October, Vertex released 90-day results from the Phase 1/2 trial, which revealed the patient was able to reduce his insulin usage from an average of 34 units per day to just 2.9 units per day. The tradeoff is a lifelong need for immunosuppressive drugs to prevent the body from attacking both foreign cells and pancreatic beta cells. It’s what recipients of ViaCyte’s first-gen PEC-Direct will also need. For Foyt, it’s an easy choice.
“At this point in time, immunosuppression is the necessary evil,” he says. “For parents, would you like to worry about going into your child’s bedroom every morning and not knowing if they’re going to be alive or dead? It’s uncommon, but it does occur.”
Not everyone, however, finds the trade-off easy to swallow. Especially with COVID-19 cases reaching record highs, the prospect of reducing his immune function at a time when he needs it most doesn’t sit well with Huntley. The risks of immunosuppression also mean that diabetes cell therapies are limited to those patients with life-threatening complications.
It’s why ViaCyte has created two new iterations of cellular therapies that would eliminate this need. The ViaCyte-Encap contains the cells in a permeable container that allows oxygen, insulin, and nutrients to flow freely but prevents immune system access. Their latest model, PEC-QT, just began safety trials with Shapiro’s lab at the University of Alberta and uses gene editing to eliminate any cellular markers that would trigger an immune response.
Sanjoy Dutta, vice president of research at JDRF International, a nonprofit that funds the study of diabetes, is thrilled with the progress that’s been made around cell therapies, but he cautions it’s still early days. “We have proven that these cells can be made. What we haven’t seen is are they going to work for six months, two years, five years? It’s a challenge we still need to overcome,” he says.
Iowa social worker Jodi Lynn’s concerns echo Dutta’s. Lynn was diagnosed with diabetes in 1998 at age 14 after a bout of severe influenza, spends each day inventorying supplies, planning her food intake, and maintaining her insulin pump and glucose monitor. These newer technologies dramatically improved her blood sugar control but, like everyone with diabetes, Lynn remains at high risk for complications, such as diabetic ketoacidosis, heart disease, vision loss, and kidney failure. Lynn, already considered immunocompromised due to medications she takes for another autoimmune condition, is less concerned with immune suppression than the untested nature of these therapies.
“I want to know that they will work long-term,” she says.
This man spent over 70 years in an iron lung. What he was able to accomplish is amazing.
It’s a sight we don’t normally see these days: A man lying prone in a big, metal tube with his head sticking out of one end. But it wasn’t so long ago that this sight was unfortunately much more common.
In the first half of the 20th century, tens of thousands of people each year were infected by polio—a highly contagious virus that attacks nerves in the spinal cord and brainstem. Many people survived polio, but a small percentage of people who did were left permanently paralyzed from the virus, requiring support to help them breathe. This support, known as an “iron lung,” manually pulled oxygen in and out of a person’s lungs by changing the pressure inside the machine.
Paul Alexander was one of several thousand who were infected and paralyzed by polio in 1952. That year, a polio epidemic swept the United States, forcing businesses to close and polio wards in hospitals all over the country to fill up with sick children. When Paul caught polio in the summer of 1952, doctors urged his parents to let him rest and recover at home, since the hospital in his home suburb of Dallas, Texas was already overrun with polio patients.
Paul rested in bed for a few days with aching limbs and a fever. But his condition quickly got worse. Within a week, Paul could no longer speak or swallow, and his parents rushed him to the local hospital where the doctors performed an emergency procedure to help him breathe. Paul woke from the surgery three days later, and found himself unable to move and lying inside an iron lung in the polio ward, surrounded by rows of other paralyzed children.
Hospitals were commonly filled with polio patients who had been paralyzed by the virus before a vaccine became widely available in 1955. Associated Press
Paul struggled inside the polio ward for the next 18 months, bored and restless and needing to hold his breath when the nurses opened the iron lung to help him bathe. The doctors on the ward frequently told his parents that Paul was going to die.But against all odds, Paul lived. And with help from a physical therapist, Paul was able to thrive—sometimes for small periods outside the iron lung.
The way Paul did this was to practice glossopharyngeal breathing (or as Paul called it, “frog breathing”), where he would trap air in his mouth and force it down his throat and into his lungs by flattening his tongue. This breathing technique, taught to him by his physical therapist, would allow Paul to leave the iron lung for increasing periods of time.
With help from his iron lung (and for small periods of time without it), Paul managed to live a full, happy, and sometimes record-breaking life. At 21, Paul became the first person in Dallas, Texas to graduate high school without attending class in person, owing his success to memorization rather than taking notes. After high school, Paul received a scholarship to Southern Methodist University and pursued his dream of becoming a trial lawyer and successfully represented clients in court.
Paul Alexander, pictured here in his early 20s, mastered a type of breathing technique that allowed him to spend short amounts of time outside his iron lung. Paul Alexander
Paul practiced law in North Texas for more than 30 years, using a modified wheelchair that held his body upright. During his career, Paul even represented members of the biker gang Hells Angels—and became so close with them he was named an honorary member.Throughout his long life, Paul was also able to fly on a plane, visit the beach, adopt a dog, fall in love, and write a memoir using a plastic stick to tap out a draft on a keyboard. In recent years, Paul joined TikTok and became a viral sensation with more than 330,000 followers. In one of his first videos, Paul advocated for vaccination and warned against another polio epidemic.
Paul was reportedly hospitalized with COVID-19 at the end of February and died on March 11th, 2024. He currently holds the Guiness World Record for longest survival inside an iron lung—71 years.
Polio thankfully no longer circulates in the United States, or in most of the world, thanks to vaccines. But Paul continues to serve as a reminder of the importance of vaccination—and the power of the human spirit.
““I’ve got some big dreams. I’m not going to accept from anybody their limitations,” he said in a 2022 interview with CNN. “My life is incredible.”
When doctors couldn’t stop her daughter’s seizures, this mom earned a PhD and found a treatment herself.
Twenty-eight years ago, Tracy Dixon-Salazaar woke to the sound of her daughter, two-year-old Savannah, in the midst of a medical emergency.
“I entered [Savannah’s room] to see her tiny little body jerking about violently in her bed,” Tracy said in an interview. “I thought she was choking.” When she and her husband frantically called 911, the paramedic told them it was likely that Savannah had had a seizure—a term neither Tracy nor her husband had ever heard before.
Over the next several years, Savannah’s seizures continued and worsened. By age five Savannah was having seizures dozens of times each day, and her parents noticed significant developmental delays. Savannah was unable to use the restroom and functioned more like a toddler than a five-year-old.
Doctors were mystified: Tracy and her husband had no family history of seizures, and there was no event—such as an injury or infection—that could have caused them. Doctors were also confused as to why Savannah’s seizures were happening so frequently despite trying different seizure medications.
Doctors eventually diagnosed Savannah with Lennox-Gaustaut Syndrome, or LGS, an epilepsy disorder with no cure and a poor prognosis. People with LGS are often resistant to several kinds of anti-seizure medications, and often suffer from developmental delays and behavioral problems. People with LGS also have a higher chance of injury as well as a higher chance of sudden unexpected death (SUDEP) due to the frequent seizures. In about 70 percent of cases, LGS has an identifiable cause such as a brain injury or genetic syndrome. In about 30 percent of cases, however, the cause is unknown.
Watching her daughter struggle through repeated seizures was devastating to Tracy and the rest of the family.
“This disease, it comes into your life. It’s uninvited. It’s unannounced and it takes over every aspect of your daily life,” said Tracy in an interview with Today.com. “Plus it’s attacking the thing that is most precious to you—your kid.”
Desperate to find some answers, Tracy began combing the medical literature for information about epilepsy and LGS. She enrolled in college courses to better understand the papers she was reading.
“Ironically, I thought I needed to go to college to take English classes to understand these papers—but soon learned it wasn’t English classes I needed, It was science,” Tracy said. When she took her first college science course, Tracy says, she “fell in love with the subject.”
Tracy was now a caregiver to Savannah, who continued to have hundreds of seizures a month, as well as a full-time student, studying late into the night and while her kids were at school, using classwork as “an outlet for the pain.”
“I couldn’t help my daughter,” Tracy said. “Studying was something I could do.”
Twelve years later, Tracy had earned a PhD in neurobiology.
After her post-doctoral training, Tracy started working at a lab that explored the genetics of epilepsy. Savannah’s doctors hadn’t found a genetic cause for her seizures, so Tracy decided to sequence her genome again to check for other abnormalities—and what she found was life-changing.
Tracy discovered that Savannah had a calcium channel mutation, meaning that too much calcium was passing through Savannah’s neural pathways, leading to seizures. The information made sense to Tracy: Anti-seizure medications often leech calcium from a person’s bones. When doctors had prescribed Savannah calcium supplements in the past to counteract these effects, her seizures had gotten worse every time she took the medication. Tracy took her discovery to Savannah’s doctor, who agreed to prescribe her a calcium blocker.
The change in Savannah was almost immediate.
Within two weeks, Savannah’s seizures had decreased by 95 percent. Once on a daily seven-drug regimen, she was soon weaned to just four, and then three. Amazingly, Tracy started to notice changes in Savannah’s personality and development, too.
“She just exploded in her personality and her talking and her walking and her potty training and oh my gosh she is just so sassy,” Tracy said in an interview.
Since starting the calcium blocker eleven years ago, Savannah has continued to make enormous strides. Though still unable to read or write, Savannah enjoys puzzles and social media. She’s “obsessed” with boys, says Tracy. And while Tracy suspects she’ll never be able to live independently, she and her daughter can now share more “normal” moments—something she never anticipated at the start of Savannah’s journey with LGS. While preparing for an event, Savannah helped Tracy get ready.
“We picked out a dress and it was the first time in our lives that we did something normal as a mother and a daughter,” she said. “It was pretty cool.”