They're tiny. Insignificant, some might say. Invisible to most. And yet, millions owe them everything.
Their genes have been altered by science, changing them from ordinary, forgettable creatures into unsung heroes.
Unseen, unheard, they work, giving everything, even their own lives, so that people like me may live.
Most of us never give them a thought. Many probably don't even realize they exist.
No, they are not some cartoon turtles, hiding in the sewers and fighting evil. They're real, and they live and die in laboratories around the world.
They are engineered yeast.
They have been programmed, via a small bit of cloned human DNA, to produce insulin. They make it, and keep making it, until they have made so much that they literally burst. Then, that insulin is carefully collected, purified, bottled, and shipped out to pharmacies everywhere. Every day, several times a day, I, like millions of diabetics around the world, take measured doses of that insulin because my body can no longer produce enough of its own for me to survive.
Less than a hundred years ago, people like me were doomed to die within a matter of months. Ten years ago, we lived off insulin harvested from pigs and cows. It worked, but not perfectly. It wasn't as effective as it should be, and many even developed dangerous, sometimes fatal, allergies to it. Now, thanks to genetic engineering, we have the real thing. As much of it as we need until there's a cure.
So, I take a moment to think of the ones who have made it possible. Not just the brilliant scientists. Not just the diligent lab technicians. They do their parts, and they get their due. They understand what they've done and what it means. They have my thanks for that, along with the thanks of plenty of others, not to mention steady paychecks. What I say now, I say to the ones no one stops to thank. The ones who live and die for nothing more than to make that one vitally important chemical.
Thank you, genetically modified exploding yeast. I couldn't live without you.
