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For Nature’s younger readers, 1974 probably brings the era of disco and Star Wars to mind. Our history textbooks tell us that was when Richard Nixon resigned as US president, and when the newly constructed 443-metre Sears Tower in Chicago, Illinois, became the world’s tallest building. We might even imagine people blasting ‘Band on the Run’ by Wings on cassette tapes in their Corvettes. It was also the year that my father — then a nine-year-old in rural Illinois — began rapidly shedding weight after experiencing flu-like symptoms. A hospital trip confirmed the sudden onset of type 1 diabetes, and marked the beginning of his life of juggling the roles of nutritionist, maths whizz and exercise fanatic — all required to manage his disease. Until his diagnosis, he had never heard of this strange ‘pancreas’ organ, yet now a nurse was passing him an orange and a syringe to practise for his future daily insulin injections. The haemoglobin A1C test, which monitors how well a person is managing the condition, would not be developed by researchers at the Joslin Diabetes Center in Boston, Massachusetts, for three more years. His diagnosis came as a surprise, given that the disease is associated with genetic risk factors but was nowhere in his family history. Thankfully, type 1 would not be passed on to any of his children. I, his daughter, instead developed a desire to study diabetes and would go on to begin my scientific training at Joslin as an undergraduate researcher. What started as a seemingly long-shot application turned into an acceptance to a premedical summer internship that catalysed my consuming excitement. Research connected the science I’d learnt in my courses with the potential to alleviate the challenges of a disease I knew all too well. As expected, entering my final year of university has sparked some reminiscing on how I ended up discovering this missing link between my interests, as well as appreciation for the encouraging and patient mentors who have made it all possible.