I knew the emergency room might not be able to do much. My research had taught me that while an antivenin exists, few patients actually get it.

The medicine has changed very little since 1895, when it was discovered by a French physician, Albert Calmette. By injecting spider or snake venom into a horse, Calmette induced symptoms of a bite, causing the body to produce antivenin. Blood could be drawn from the horse, and the substance could be isolated and stored for later use.

While the antivenin has saved many lives, it carries dangers of its own. Some patients turn out to have a life-threatening allergy to horse proteins. So the medicine is given only if the victim seems to be at death’s door; most patients are expected to tough it out, an ordeal that can take days.

That night, I was the hospital’s closest thing to a rock star. A parade of residents and medical students stopped in my room to gawk at me; few had ever seen a black widow patient. By now, the pain had crept into my lower chest, sending out waves of muscle spasms.

A new resident paused to look at me.

“Not looking too good, are we?”

“You should see the other guy,” I said.

With all the attention I was getting, I wondered where the good medications were. Where was the morphine? The muscle relaxers? My answer arrived in the person of Dr. Christopher Holstege, a calm toxicologist who had the longest conversation with me that any doctor has ever bothered to have.

Dr. Holstege finally explained what was on his mind. The hospital was one of several conducting a study to test a new form of antivenin, and wanted me to be a guinea pig. The drug, Analatro, was made in sheep rather than horses, and was processed differently, so it had fewer impurities to which the body could react.