Gravitating Toward Aerospace Medicine
Medical student Daniel Bister explored what it’s like healing in space by simulating life in a lunar station.
Not long ago, in a land far away, Daniel Bister, a second-year medical student at the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine, found himself in a world very different from the classrooms and hospitals that typically serve as training grounds for doctors.
The location: a cottage in the woods of Krakow, Poland, where Bister joined five other 20-somethings from Poland, Cyprus, India and Tunisia. The mission: to simulate life in a lunar station and adapt to isolation while taking care of the physical and mental health of five other crew members as crew medical officer.
The reason? Bister, a lifelong space enthusiast who dreamed since middle school of becoming a doctor, realized there is room in the universe for him to combine his two passions and explore a career in aerospace medicine.
A Passion for Space
When Bister walked out of the simulated lunar station nine days after locking himself in, one thing was as clear as the starlit sky: his passion for aerospace medicine was not only intact but stronger than ever.
“I’ve always been someone who loves to put myself in new situations,” said Bister. “We were completely isolated from the outside world. We couldn’t open the door so there was no sunlight. Coming out of the simulation was a surreal experience. I could’ve done longer, but I was happy to leave when I did.”
Now vice president of the Miller School’s aviation and aerospace medicine interest group, Bister is looking toward a specialty in cardiology as he works on developing a product for astronauts.
“How does the heart change in zero gravity?” he said. “How does blood circulate differently without the help of gravity?”
While in the simulation, Bister not only monitored everyone’s vitals every two hours and assessed their moods three times a day but studied the effects of sleep deprivation and stress on these metrics.
“Some nights we got 30 minutes sleep and some nights we got five hours,” he said. “Health data changed as sleep deprivation and stress kicked in.”
Bister identified microorganisms and protozoa in their hydroponic system. He studied the crew’s spatial orientation by attaching a hammock to the ceiling, blindfolding participants and setting up surround-sound speakers.
“The Polish participant was the pilot and he had the best spatial orientation, which makes sense because pilots have a good sense of their surroundings,” said Bister, who then designed a training program to aid crews in honing these skills.
After the mission, he and his crewmates presented their findings to the Tunisian Space Association and other astronomers and engineers.
As the emergency specialist, he coordinated the response to threats like solar flares, air leaks and meteorite impacts. They took turns cooking, having gone on a group grocery run before the mission began.
“A lot of canned food!” he said.
“Space Exploration Has No Boundaries”
As Bister juggles the responsibility of medical school, he remains involved in simulated missions run by students from around the world. He evaluates applications for future missions and leads sessions on the health risks associated with space flight. This summer, he supported an analog mission in Switzerland by working remotely on the mission control team, keeping tabs on health data and alerting doctors to any abnormalities.
Bister is excited to see how the field of aerospace medicine evolves over the next decade and be on the cutting edge of keeping travelers healthy.
“Space exploration has no boundaries and is a universal passion,” he said.