Mountain sick on Mt. Everest

Once in my lifetime looking at the highest point of Mother Earth: Mt. Everest. Not necessarily climb it. But see and feel it. This was my wish. And I had been well prepared for this. I studied everything about acute mountain sickness (AMS) and its symptoms. Never ever I wanted to be one of statistically ten people per year who die on their way to Everest base camp. Instead of seven days, I booked ten hiking days in order to not cause any hurry on my way and to have an experienced mountain guide with me. I even took a special insurance to be entitled for a helicopter salvage just in case I should face life-threatening difficulties. So, my adventure was ahead. And I was in a good physical shape.

Tengboche. Starting from Lukhla, the first five days of hiking in Sagarmatha National Park were simply brilliant. Countless waterfalls, wild rivers, snow-covered Himalayan mountains, magnificent birds and above all the exciting mountain culture of the Sherpas. Early morning today in Namche Bazar I was even able to save another absolute highlight in my memory forever: I saw Mt. Everest.

And now, after today’s hike, I had finally arrived in the mountain village of Tengboche just before it got dark. By hiking 9.2 kilometers by foot, 600 meters of ascent, only 62% of the oxygen amount at sea level and an 11kg backpack, I arrived quite exhausted here at 3,860m above sea level. But hey, you can take a hot shower for four euros. Well, at least that’s what the sign in my accommodation said. But what I received a few minutes later were two small buckets of water, neither warm nor cold. That was all. I washed myself outside with that and started to freeze. The whole night. Sleeping didn’t work either. For the first time in my life I experienced such an altitude. It was like breathing through a straw.

The next morning, daylight hit my eyes. I hardly slept and dragged myself to the breakfast table. Old toasted bread. And scrambled eggs, that tasted so terrible that I immediately felt sick. The weather was just brilliant, but I wasn’t feeling well. These damn eggs. Today’s destination was the mountain village of Pheriche at 4,240m. Slowly I made one step, then the next step and so on. After only ten minutes I immediately interrupted my Sherpa’s first question about my strange behaviour. I knew what he would ask. But at his second attempt to ask me something after around 30 minutes I made my confession.

I knew exactly what it meant when you are doing so bad at this altitude level and you keep on climbing. But what I also knew was that I could take lots of time due to the short distance today and that for tomorrow a complete day off was planned in our schedule. Besides, it didn’t have to be altitude sickness. Maybe my sickness appeared due to the bad eggs? Those damn eggs. So I stumbled on. Back and forth. Until I collapsed for the first time at 4,300m. Only 57% oxygen. For half an hour I lied on the grass. I could see Pheriche from here. Only 1 kilometer away. Ok, let’s do it. With a great headache, dizziness and nausea I got up again. My biggest motivation was only a bed and the perspective of 1.5 days of doing nothing.

When I arrived in the mountain village of Pheriche I could no longer stand up straight. Rapid decrease of power level. My Sherpa had to carry me to my room, where he put me straight into bed. Now the freezing started. Shivering so badly that my wooden bed even squeaked. Another two blankets did not help, although I was drenched in sweat. And it got worse. Severe headache. Nausea. My body was so tired that I couldn’t even lift my arm anymore. After a while cough appeared. In the meantime, I even had a rapid heartbeat. My pulse increased a lot. And again and again I had to gasp for breath, although I had been lying in bed for more than an hour and should be relaxed.

Then. Finally I heard my sherpa trudging to my room outside in the wooden corridor. I really needed help. But when he opened the door, he startled: “Michael, you have blue lips!” Those magic words hit me. Fear of death. I knew what blue lips meant. Acute cyanosis is a life-threatening shortage of oxygen in your blood and could be a sign of pulmonary edema.

There was only one way to get out of this situation alive. Down, down, down. “Helicopter. Call them.” I said to my sherpa. Immediately he phoned to Kathmandu. But when he hung up, however, he had terrible news: No helicopter is currently capable of flying above 4,000m under these conditions. What conditions? In disbelief I looked out of the window. Damn it. Just before the sun was shining on my face. And now: thick fog. Just unbelievable. You could see less than 20 meters and it was also getting dark.

I didn’t want to finish thinking about that logical next thought. Spending another day here without immediate help and hoping for better weather would have meant an early death for me. My Sherpa knew that as well. That moment when I saw the fog and darkness coming through the window, I jumped out of bed and put on my shoes. Without further thinking. “Get down. Quickly.” I said to myself. My life depended on it. The sherpa put his own and my backpack on his chest and back. With his left arm he held a flashlight and gave me support with his right arm. When we left the hut I saw nothing. Fog and darkness. Now I could only rely on the guidance of my mountain guide. I kept falling on the ground out of pure weakness. Several times I had to vomit.

Two hours must have passed when we finally stopped in front of a hut where an old woman was already waiting for us. My Sherpa said that we made it to 3,900m and are going to spend the night here. The woman took off my boots, gave me a clinical thermometer and brought hot garlic soup. That was the best medicine for someone like me, she said. Three spoons. I couldn’t do more. My body temperature was at 40.7°C. The two of them brought me to bed and I fell asleep.

5 am. With my eyes half-opened I recognized my sherpa holding a hot garlic soup next to my bed: “Wake up. We have to keep going down. You have to eat this.” I was still terribly sick, freezing and sweating. But this time I managed to eat half of the garlic soup. Good sign. We started. It took us almost the whole day down to Namche Bazar at 3,400m. Finally an altitude where my body could regenerate. There was already 10% more oxygen in the air compared to last evening. But due to my enormous efforts today I got a high fever again, sweating and freezing in the evening. But I slept the whole night.

The next morning I felt better. I spent the whole day in bed. And on the third day I was healthy again. Up until today I still have no explanation from where I extracted this sudden energy out of my body when I was lying in that wooden bed in Pheriche. Probably the power of nature. Probably you’ll only find out how strong you really are, if being strong is the only option you have left.