“The procedure is painful,” Dr. Haas said. “We will need to inject the serum directly into her spinal column.”

A wave of dizziness overcame Patrick, and he nearly fainted. “Lord above, is there nowhere else you can give it to her?”

“The other alternative is a direct injection into the brain, which would involve drilling a hole in the patient’s skull, and that adds to the risk.”

“Let’s go for the spine,” Patrick said, praying this wasn’t all a terrible mistake that would cause his mother even more suffering on her way to the other side.

He led Dr. Haas into the bedroom, then knelt beside the bed, wincing at Birdie’s hideous grin that starkly contrasted the fear in her eyes. She lay on her side because her twisted spine made lying any other way impossible.

“These are the specialists I told you about, Ma. They’ll need to examine you before they can use that special medicine. Maybe take a couple of photographs. Don’t be embarrassed. They know more about this disease than anyone in the world, and someday this is going to help a lot of people. Will that be okay?”

She couldn’t speak, only nod.

“Excellent,” Dr. Haas said, then proceeded to take his mother’s temperature and pulse and used a weird-looking device to measure the bend in her spine.

The younger research assistant set the camera near Birdie’s face to take her picture. She couldn’t even change her expression, but Patrick knew she’d be horrified to be photographed like this. She closed her eyes, and a tear leaked out. He grabbed a section of the sheet to blot it.

“Okay, Ma. The picture-taking is over. Now comes the hard part.”

Thank the Lord for Gwen Kellerman. She explained the procedure with a softer approach than the blunt German professor and described how the serum contained antibodies that would fight the tetanus bacteria. In order to get the life-saving serum where it needed to go, they would inject it into Birdie’s spinal cord.

Patrick held his mother’s hand as the knowledge sank in. Once again, there was no change in her expression but terror in her eyes. She began panting and more tears fell, but when Mrs. Kellerman asked for permission to proceed, Birdie nodded.

Dr. Haas and both his students moved to the other side of the bed while the professor prepared a syringe. Patrick was thankful Birdie couldn’t see the size of the needle or the large bottle of cloudy, amber-colored fluid. The professor pulled a lot of fluid into the syringe, and knowing where it was going to go . . . another wave of dizziness hit Patrick, and he struggled to stay calm.

“Mr. O’Neill, would you be more comfortable outside?” Mrs. Kellerman asked.