IIn February 2023, I booked a one-way flight to Salvador, Brazil to attend the Carnival celebrations. Forty-four years old, physically fit after a long illness and with some savings aside, I had decided to travel for 116 days through South America, a continent I had dreamed of visiting. It was the same amount of time I had spent in the hospital before.
On my first day in Salvador I was robbed at knifepoint: I quickly realized that I still had a lot to learn about traveling alone. I didn’t know much about where I was and had no plan for where I was going, but I wasn’t tempted to go home because I had been through much worse.
In April 2015, I underwent a stem cell transplant at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. After being diagnosed with testicular cancer and undergoing chemotherapy, my immune system malfunctioned and I developed several infections. The doctors told me that a stem cell transplant was my best option to regain decent health so I could continue fighting the cancer that had since spread to my chest and abdomen.
Still, after a week in the hospital, I started to deteriorate rapidly. The first infusion of stem cells harvested from my own blood (a autologous transplant), didn’t work, and I acquired infections causing me to drift in and out of consciousness. Over the next two months my weight dropped to 45kg (7st) and I was in constant excruciating pain. It was now a matter of urgently trying to find a stem cell donor with cells that matched my own, to attempt a second transplant (which can work if a patient’s own cells fail; unfortunately my mother and brother were not a match).
The cancer was no longer a problem; it was my body’s immune system that would kill me. My family began to fear the worst. At one point I remember passing by and seeing all the ward nurses standing at my bedside crying. They thought it was the last time they would see me and I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to keep fighting. The doctors said I had two weeks to live.
Then the charity Anthony Nolan miraculously found a match for me who quickly underwent the painful procedure to harvest their stem cells. In July 2015 I slowly started to recover. After more than two months in bed, I had to learn to walk again, and in August 2015, just days before my 38th birthday, I was fired.
I emerged with a newfound respect for life and I realized I had to make the most of the time I had left. My mind was racing with ideas of running marathons and seeing the world, but first my body had to catch up: I could barely climb the stairs to my first-floor apartment.
I contacted my stem cell donor to thank him and he replied with a note telling me to get on with my life as that would be the greatest thank you he could receive. “It was my pleasure to donate,” he told me. “Embrace the future and live each day to the fullest.” It lit a fire in me to rehabilitate and get out into the world, but also to give back.
By 2023, I was strong enough to travel, and even after being robbed in Salvador, I was determined to keep going. I worked my way through Brazil, Ecuador, Colombia, Argentina, Peru and Venezuela. I hiked up mountains and witnessed the most incredible wildlife in the Amazon. I was almost never alone – I made friends with fellow travelers from all over the world and was humbled by the generosity of the locals when I stayed at their homes.
In Ecuador I met Craig from Alaska, who runs a hostel in the shadow of Cotopaxi Mountain, and he became my “ride or die” – that is, a person who is a kindred spirit. We went for walks together, shared life stories and will now always be friends.
When I reached the 116-day mark, I was on a night bus traveling through Argentina and I thought: I can’t go home yet. There was still too much to see and the trip had become a life-affirming experience.
In total, I traveled for 414 days, traveling through 10 countries, being robbed three times and having one motorcycle accident. At one point I got lost on a hike in Colombia and almost died of dehydration, but managed to find my way again. The Steve who came back was not the Steve who left. Life is precious and I want to maximize it. I sometimes feel guilty that I’m still alive when friends and even my mother have passed away, but I owe it to them to live.
I am currently preparing to return to Ecuador to visit Craig and eventually climb Mount Chimborazo, the highest mountain in the country. I may not make it to the top, but I can’t wait for the journey.