In 2023, Matthew Stewart embarked on an extraordinary adventure to climb Half Dome in Yosemite, a feat that many active 28-year-olds would relish. However, unbeknownst to him, a hidden tumor would necessitate his rescue from the iconic peak. A year later, he returned to triumph over that climb. Here’s Matthew’s inspiring journey in his own words:
As someone from the East Coast, my annual trips to the West for hiking and backpacking with my friend Tim began in 2020. In June 2023, at age 28, we chose Yosemite as our destination and invited our friend Sam, who was studying to be a paramedic alongside Tim. Initially, we missed our chance to secure permits for Half Dome, but fortune smiled upon us when a last-minute cancellation created an opening.
Although I felt a bit fatigued, I was brimming with energy as I led my friends along the trail. We camped at Little Yosemite Campground that night to get ready for our early morning ascent.
However, when I awoke the next morning, dizziness and weakness overwhelmed me. This wasn’t entirely new—I had been grappling with headaches and other symptoms for several months, suspecting Lyme disease, which led me to schedule a CAT scan for after our trip.
Unfortunately, my condition deteriorated rapidly. What began as dizziness escalated into the worst migraine I’d ever felt. My friends diligently looked after me, administering medication and keeping a watchful eye on my symptoms.
As I began to vomit and lost control of my left arm and leg, I drifted in and out of consciousness. After performing a stroke assessment, my friends had no choice but to call for a helicopter rescue. Thankfully, we were in a location that could be reached by air support along our route.
When I finally regained consciousness in the ICU, I initially felt fine. However, the next morning, the surgeon delivered shocking news: “Mr. Stewart, we found a mass at the back of your brain. It appears to be cancerous, and we recommend surgery tomorrow.”
I was taken aback—here I was, young, active, and health-conscious, miles away from my loved ones. The medical team was apprehensive about flying, fearing the altitude could worsen the tumor’s condition (my symptoms had been exacerbated by the high elevation in Yosemite compared to my sea-level home).
For this critical procedure, I insisted on being transferred to Johns Hopkins Hospital, renowned for its neurological expertise and conveniently located a few hours from home. After a comprehensive evaluation, the doctors there cleared me for the flight.
Still in disbelief, I consciously took things step by step. I reminded myself that many cancers are manageable today. The specialists at Johns Hopkins suspected glioblastoma, an aggressive brain cancer with a poor prognosis. They recommended surgery to remove the tumor, aware that it might return. Though there was a chance it could be a less severe form, the outlook was grim.
The surgery was scheduled for two weeks later, aiming to excise as much of the tumor as possible, potentially placing a chemotherapy wafer in the cavity afterward.
It was a challenging time. My aspirations felt limited by the harsh reality of my diagnosis. Chemotherapy and radiation were physically taxing, yet my faith provided a profound sense of peace. I concentrated on getting through the surgery without becoming consumed by the uncertainties of my future.
On July 5th, 2023, I underwent a surgery that lasted four hours but extended to six. When I woke up, the doctors informed me that they had successfully removed the entire tumor against all odds. There was no need for a chemotherapy wafer. Although I experienced initial vision issues due to the tumor’s location, I was ecstatic about the outcome. While the possibility of cancer still loomed, it wasn’t the grim glioblastoma.
A week and a half later, the surgeon had more surprising news: “You don’t need further treatment at this time.” Although the tumor’s exact nature remained 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 likely originated during my middle school years. Its slow growth had gone unnoticed until the recent symptoms emerged at high altitude.
I underwent a gross removal procedure to lower the risk of recurrence and now have regular MRIs for monitoring. In case of a return, there are newly approved medications available to manage and eliminate this type of tumor.
Recovery was tough and prolonged. Initially, simple tasks like reading, using a phone, or cooking were daunting. Adjusting to the blind spot in my vision was particularly challenging, especially as I was unable to drive at first.
Two weeks post-surgery, I began to ease back into exercise. I started with running, transitioned to cycling, and gradually introduced strength training with light weights. As my strength grew, I engaged in strength training five to six days a week and ran around 15 miles weekly. I also used hobbies like playing the guitar to help train my eyes.
Once I felt confident in my recovery, Tim, Sam, and I made a pact to return to Yosemite. We secured permits for Half Dome and invited three more 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 first attempt, I found myself back in Yosemite. It felt surreal to return to the same campground from which I had been airlifted. As I reflected on the past year and the journey that lay ahead, we were ready to conquer what had once eluded us.
Equipped with the essential gear, including secure gloves and clips, we set out early for our climb. The ascent of Half Dome was nerve-wracking for me, especially as someone who isn’t keen on heights. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let fear hold me back.
We reached the summit successfully. The tranquility at the peak was unmatched; it was a moment to relish our victory over adversity. Standing atop the mountain, I counted my blessings amid the challenges I had faced and the obstacles I had surmounted. While my vision had significantly improved, I still acknowledged the lingering blind spot, likely a permanent aspect of my recovery. Yet, I adapted and resumed my normal activities, including driving during daylight hours with restrictions. During this transformative experience, I met my now-fiancée. I am grateful for how far I’ve come, reflecting on the stark contrast between my current state and where I was just a year ago.
Let my journey be a testament to resilience and the unwavering spirit to overcome challenges, no matter how insurmountable they may seem.
