With our entire team of 12, in addition to our Sherpa support, moving together for the summit push, we needed to share tents at the upper camps, which is typical on an expedition. However, due to some differences in acclimatization schedules among the climbers leading up to this point, this was the first time that I had shared a tent since our team’s arrival in base camp. I shared mine with a good friend and longtime climbing partner.
As is common on long expeditions at extreme altitudes in places like the Himalaya, the conditions and altitude wear you down incessantly until you have virtually no reserves or immune system left. As a result, bacterial and viral infections make their way through the various climbing teams regularly, sparing no one, and taking a marked toll. Our team was no different.
Just after midnight on now the early morning of May 23rd, my tent-mate succumbed to a particularly nasty GI infection that had been making its way around base camp in the days leading up to our departure for the summit. In the misery of the dark and wind and cold of Camp II, he spent the night vomiting in our tent’s vestibule and relieving himself in the nearby “toilet tent,” consisting of a small vertical tent and a bucket. I did what I could to help him, although admittedly in that state and in that location, there wasn’t much I could do other than offer a few minimally consoling words while trying to help him stay hydrated.
As the sun reached our tent that morning, it became clear that his expedition was over. His oxygen saturation levels had dropped to a frighteningly low level and he was clearly suffering. We put him on bottled oxygen to stabilize him and then sent him down to basecamp as soon as he was able to make it down safely under his own power. It was an easy decision to make at the time based on his condition, but no less devastating to see him return home just shy of attaining his goal after nearly two months of effort and resilience.