Several of the posts coming back from the Children With Diabetes annual Friends for Life conference (FFL) have likened this gathering of beta-less buddies to a traveling circus, a family reunion, and the sitcom Cheers, in whose eponymous bar "everybody knows your name" -- except that in the case of FFL, "everybody knows what it's like to live with type 1 diabetes". The effect, even without the Disneyification (FFL is always held at Disney World), is a Magic Kingdom of Diabetes. It makes sense: the event promoters are (and need to be) familiar with the condition, and the property managers need to be aware of -- and capable of handling -- a large, temporary influx of people who all have the same, or similar, "special needs". (READ MORE)

Fade in.

Close-up on a hand, shaking slightly as it lifts a metal cup. Pan as the camera moves to the subject's face, barely able to take a swallow of fluid without spilling it. After a half-coughed swallow, the hand half-slams the cup back on the workspace. The man shakes his head, unable to concentrate, pushes off from the workspace, and snaps at several other people as he walks briskly away.

From the second I saw the hand shake, I thought, "He's low. He's acting like he's low. Get the man some orange juice; he's about to pass out."

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In my previous post, I took a few examples of STAR TREK's medical technology and cultural biases to
speculate on whether or not diabetes mellitus might exist among humans living in that fictional universe, and
some methods by which it might be treated.

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With all of my STARFLEET chapter's preparations for the new STAR TREK movie opening next Friday, I decided to take a few minutes' retrospective to consider how diabetes might be treated in the STAR TREK universe, and how I expect it might be treated in Real Life.

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