Matthew Stewart embarked on an unforgettable journey climbing Half Dome in Yosemite in 2023, much like any other 28-year-old in great shape would. Little did he know that he would have to be rescued from Half Dome due to a tumor he was unaware of. A year later, he returned to conquer that climb. Here is his inspiring story in his own words:
As a native of the East Coast, I began taking yearly trips out west to hike and backpack with my friend Tim back in 2020. In June 2023, at the age of 28, we decided to explore Yosemite and invited our friend Sam, who was in paramedic school with Tim. Although we initially missed out on permits to hike Half Dome, luck was on our side when a last-minute cancellation opened up the opportunity for us.
Despite feeling a bit worn out, I was filled with energy—I was leading the way for my friends on the trail. We spent the night at Little Yosemite Campground to prepare for our early start the next day to tackle Half Dome.
However, the next morning, I woke up feeling extremely dizzy and weak. This wasn’t entirely new to me—I had been experiencing headaches and other symptoms for a few months prior. I had suspected Lyme disease and had scheduled a CAT scan for after the trip.
But this time, things took a turn for the worse. From dizziness, it escalated to the most intense migraine I had ever experienced. My friends tended to me, monitoring my condition and providing medication.
I began vomiting and lost control of my left arm and leg, drifting in and out of consciousness. They conducted a stroke test and eventually had to call for a helicopter rescue. Luckily, we were in a location accessible by air support along our route.
Upon waking up in the ICU, I felt fine initially. However, the next morning, the surgeon delivered shocking news: “Mr. Stewart, we have discovered a mass in the back of your brain. It appears to be cancerous, and we recommend surgery tomorrow.”
I was taken aback—I was young, active, and health-conscious. The last place I wanted to be was miles away from my loved ones, but the medical team was concerned that flying could worsen the tumor due to the altitude. (The high elevation in Yosemite may have exacerbated my symptoms compared to sea level at home.)
For such a critical procedure, I insisted on Johns Hopkins Hospital—a renowned institution for neurological care, conveniently located a few hours from my home. After a thorough review, the doctors there cleared me for the flight.
Still in disbelief, I tried to take things one step at a time. I reassured myself that many cancers are manageable nowadays. The specialists at Johns Hopkins suspected glioblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer with a limited life expectancy. They proposed surgery to remove the tumors, knowing they could return. Although there was a slight chance it might be a less severe form, the diagnosis was bleak.
The surgery was scheduled for two weeks later. The goal was to excise as much of the tumor as possible and potentially insert a chemotherapy wafer in the cavity left by the removal.
It was a dark period. All my aspirations and dreams suddenly felt limited by the harsh reality of my condition. Chemotherapy and radiation treatments took a toll on my body. However, my faith provided an inexplicable sense of peace. I focused on getting through the surgery without dwelling on uncertainties about the future.
On July 5th, 2023, I underwent a four-hour surgery that extended to six hours. Upon regaining consciousness, the doctors informed me that they had successfully removed the entire tumor against the odds. There was no need for the chemotherapy wafer. Although the tumor’s location caused initial vision problems, I was overjoyed by the positive outcome. While the possibility of cancer remained, it wasn’t the dire glioblastoma.
A week and a half later, the surgeon delivered unexpected news: “You don’t require further treatment at this time.” Although the exact nature of the tumor was still uncertain, it was suspected to be a low-grade cancer.
Over a month later, I learned that it was a rare non-cancerous tumor that had likely been present since my middle school years. Its slow growth had gone unnoticed until the recent symptoms at high altitude.
I underwent a gross removal procedure to minimize the risk of recurrence and now undergo regular MRIs for monitoring. In case of a relapse, there are newly approved medications to manage and eliminate this type of tumor.
Recovery was arduous and lengthy. Simple tasks like reading, using a phone, or cooking were challenging initially. Coping with the blind spot in my vision was a struggle, especially since I couldn’t drive initially.
After two weeks post-surgery, I gradually resumed exercising. I started with running, then cycling, and eventually incorporated strength training with light weights. As my strength improved, I engaged in strength training five to six days a week and ran 15 miles weekly. I also used hobbies like playing the guitar to exercise my eyes.
Once I was confident in my recovery and ability to move forward, Tim, Sam, and I resolved to return to Yosemite. Securing permits for Half Dome, we invited three additional friends to join us.
The author (left) with friends Tim (center), and Sam (right), on their successful Half Dome climb.
In September 2024, just over a year after our initial attempt, I returned to Yosemite. It felt surreal to be back at the same campground from which I had been airlifted. Reflecting on the past year and the journey ahead, we, now free of the tumor, were prepared to conquer what had eluded us before.
Equipped with the necessary gear, including secure gloves and clips, we set out early. The climb up Half Dome was nerve-wracking for someone like me who isn’t fond of heights. Nonetheless, I was determined not to let fear hinder my progress.
We successfully reached the summit. The serenity at the peak was unparalleled, a moment to savor our triumph over adversity. As I stood atop the mountain, I counted my blessings amidst the challenges faced and the obstacles overcome. Despite significant improvements in my vision, I acknowledge the lingering blind spot, likely permanent. Yet, I have adapted and resumed my usual activities, including driving during daylight hours with restrictions. I met my now-fiancée during this transformative period. I am grateful for the progress made, contrasting where I stand today with where I was a year ago.
. Let this journey serve as a testament to resilience and the unwavering spirit to overcome obstacles, no matter how insurmountable they may seem.
