They both replied at once, in long telegrams, to the effect that quinine was the only known specific for Hematuria, and that if it could not be given by the mouth possibly some result could be obtained of application, such as rubbing it on the skin, etc. And it was typical of their appreciation of the conditions that both telegrams came to him Prepaid.
Since the alternative methods suggested offered no practical solution to his problem, he had no other recourse except to depend upon his own resources. He felt sure that, for quinine to be effective against any type of malaria it must, in some way, get into the blood stream, and he determined to try the then unheard of plan of converting the sulphate of quinine into an alcoholic extract which could be administered hypodermically.
When he reached his office he found four or five men waiting for him and begging him to come at once, before it was too late, to see one or more members of their families who had just come down with the fever. He called in one of these men -- a close friend -- to his office and said to him, in effect, "There isn't any medical treatment known to the highest medical authorities in the country that will do these people any good. I have made up my mind, as a last resort, to try to make up a preparation of Quinine in liquid form which I can give hypodermically, in the hope that it may prove effective. It will take me all night to do this. I want you to stay out there; tell anyone that comes what I am doing, and don't let anyone come in to bother me until I call you." He had good training in pharmacology and by daylight he succeeded in making up about 8 ounces of the extract. He then called in his friend and said, "I have this extract ready now. Before I give it to anyone else I am going to give it to myself to find out what its effects will be, and I want you to be present so that if things don't work out right you will know just what happened." He then injected into his arm the equivalent of 40 grains of the Sulphate of Quinine. Within a few minutes his ears began to ring. He was so excited that he forgot all about having spent the preceding three or four days in the saddle. He then repeated the hypodermic and in a short time he knew that he was thoroughly cinchonized.
He mounted his horse and rode to the home of his nearest patient, the daughter of one of his friends, another child of whom had died a few days before. The patient was unconscious, with a high fever, was hardly breathing and had hardly any pulse. He gave her a 40 grain hypodermic. Within a few minutes she broke out in a profuse perspiration, her breathing and pulse began to improve, and she recovered consciousness. He waited half an hour and then gave her another hypodermic. Waiting only long enough to see that she continued to improve, he said to her father, "I must leave now. There are a dozen or more patients whose lives may depend on my seeing them right away. I shall probably not be able to see your daughter for several days, but I do not believe that it will be necessary for me to do so. I have done everything I can do and I feel confident that she will get well." (She did.) He then started on his round of patients, being able to see most of them only once and getting no sleep for a day or two. Practically all the patients he could see recovered.
While I suppose this might be considered a satisfactory ending for this story, there is a subsequent chapter that might possibly be of interest to you.
At the time of the wedding of my father and mother they decided to use what little savings he had for setting up their new home, and, if circumstances permitted, to postpone their wedding trip until the next year when they might attend the Cotton Exposition in New Orleans. Things did work out so that they were able to take this trip, and in due time they arrived in New Orleans. From the railroad station they took a street car (horse drawn of course) to go to the hotel. Father happened to sit down by a rather distinguished looking gentleman, with whom, as was his wont, he soon engaged in conversation. In reply to a question father had occasion to say that he was a physician from Mississippi. The man replied that he was a physician himself, and, as is apparently the normal thing in such cases, they began to talk shop (leaving grandmother to read the paper presumably). The man said, "I suppose you must have had considerable experience in the river bottoms with Hematuria," whereupon father told him that he had recently gone through quite an epidemic of it. Upon being asked what treatment he had found most satisfactory he explained the details of the treatment he had used. The physician was greatly interested and he informed father that he was the head of one of the largest hospitals in New Orleans, that there were several patients then in the hospital with Hematuria, and that they did not respond to any treatment given them. He begged father to come at once with him to the hospital, stating that his brother was a large manufacturing druggist who could speedily make up the quinine extract in accordance with father's procedure, and that he hoped that by speedy action father might be able to save the lives of some of these patients. So they explained the situation to the bride, father went with his (by this time) friend to the hospital, and mother went on to the hotel, where she remained until father joined her two days later. All of which I suppose might be considered a normal wedding trip for a doctor's bride.
The concluding chapter of this incident took place a year or so later. At a meeting of the State Medical Association, in Oxford, which father attended, the head of the New Orleans Hospital had been invited to read a paper on the subject of Hematuria, as the result of the unusual record of success in its treatment at that hospital. He prefaced his talk with the statement that he was particularly pleased to be invited to make it in Mississippi in view of the fact that the treatment followed in the hospital had been suggested to him by a young Dr. Gardner, who was a resident of Mississippi, and to whom he desired to give full credit for the success that had been attained. Father always remembered his gracious action with pleasure.