For nearly two decades, Tim Friede turned his body into a testing ground. Not for science, at first—but for survival.

He was a truck mechanic in Wisconsin with a love for snakes. But Friede didn’t just handle them. He let them bite him. He injected their venom into his veins. Again and again—over 700 times.

And somehow, he lived.

Now, a team of scientists says his blood may hold the key to a long-sought goal in medicine: a universal antivenom.

Antibodies found in Friede’s blood have been shown to protect against fatal doses from a wide range of species in animal tests. Snakebites kill up to 140,000 people a year and leave three times as many needing amputations or facing permanent disability.

A Self-Made Experiment

Friede’s journey began with a simple, dangerous idea—to build up his own immunity so he could safely handle his pet snakes. The internet watched as he documented bite after bite on YouTube from some of the world’s deadliest serpents: black mambas, king cobras, taipans. He also injected himself hundreds of times with a diluted venom solution.

But something else drove him too. “I just kept pushing and pushing and pushing as hard as I could push—for the people who are 8,000 miles away from me who die from snakebite,” Friede told the BBC, realizing his efforts might some day lead to an effective antivenom.

By the time his story reached Dr. Jacob Glanville, a computational immunologist and CEO of the biotech company Centivax, Friede had been bitten more than 200 times. Glanville was searching for something rare: broadly neutralizing antibodies, capable of disarming a wide array of snake toxins.

“I thought he may have the secrets for a universal antivenom pumping through his veins,” Glanville told the Telegraph. “So I got in touch and said: ‘this may be an awkward question, but I’d love to get my hands on some of your blood.’”

Friede’s response? “I’ve been waiting for this call for a long time.”

Snake Milking

The science of antivenom hasn’t changed much in a hundred years. Even today, most antivenoms are made by injecting small amounts of venom into horses or sheep. The animals’ immune systems create antibodies, which are then harvested and purified for use in humans. But each antivenom only works against venom from a specific species.

And there’s another problem: time. Many victims live in rural areas. They arrive at clinics too late, and often receive the wrong antivenom. Globally, up to 140,000 people die from snakebites each year. Another 400,000 are left with amputations, paralysis, or chronic ulcers.

“It is unacceptable to continue relying on these outdated methods for treating snake bites,” said Kartik Sunagar, an antivenom expert at the Indian Institute of Science, in Nature.

Friede’s antibodies offered an alternative.

Glanville and his collaborators, including biochemist Peter Kwong at Columbia University, began analyzing two small vials of Friede’s blood. Their focus: elapid snakes—a deadly family that includes mambas, cobras, and kraits. These snakes use neurotoxins that paralyze the nervous system. In severe cases, they stop the muscles that allow a person to breathe.

The scientists found two extraordinary antibodies in Friede’s blood. One neutralized long-chain neurotoxins (LNX), the other short-chain ones (SNX). These toxins bind to nerve cell receptors, blocking communication between neurons. The antibodies, however, latch onto features shared across many species, essentially blinding the venom.

Then the researchers added a third ingredient: varespladib, a small molecule drug that blocks venom enzymes. In trials on mice, the cocktail protected against fatal doses from 13 species of elapid snakes and offered partial protection against six more.

“When all the mice were seeing the light of day, it was pretty profound,” Glanville said.

Toward a Universal Antivenom

The potential here is vast. A single product, or perhaps just two, could replace the dozens of antivenoms currently used across regions and snake species.

“The breadth of the protective benefit is certainly novel,” said Professor Nicholas Casewell, director of the Centre for Snakebite Research and Interventions in Liverpool.

But it’s not perfect—yet. The cocktail doesn’t work on vipers, the second major group of venomous snakes. Unlike elapids, vipers use hemotoxins that destroy blood and tissue. So Glanville’s team is developing a second cocktail. “The intention is basically to have two syringes—one that hits the elapids, and one that hits the vipers,” he said. “And if you’re in a situation where you don’t know what bit you, you take both.”

The long-term vision is an autoinjector, like an EpiPen, that could be stocked in rural clinics and field kits.

Risks, Rewards, and What Comes Next

Despite the excitement, perhaps it goes without saying, but please don’t try this at home.

“It may be obvious, but no one should try what Tim Friede did—it’s not good for you,” Glanville cautioned. “Tim did something remarkable and it could help medical science – but also because he’s run this experiment, there’s no need for anyone else to. Please nobody try this.”

Others point to larger challenges ahead. Antibody therapies can be expensive to develop, and many snakebite victims live in low-income countries.

“As of yet, no snakebite monoclonal antibodies have entered evaluation in clinical trials,” Casewell said. “This endeavour is highly challenging.”

Even so, Friede’s contribution has already advanced science.

“Tim’s antibodies are really quite extraordinary—he taught his immune system to get this very, very broad recognition,” said Kwong.

Friede, now in his 50s, knows he’s taken a unique path.

“I’m doing something good for humanity and that was very important to me,” he said. “I’m proud of it. It’s pretty cool.”

And if the science holds up, his blood may end up saving lives in the far-flung corners of the world—the very people he had in mind each time he rolled up his sleeve.