The extreme conditions of climbing Mt. Everest, and the risks involved, hardly seem worth it to us regular folks who can’t even imagine voluntarily subjecting oneself to such an ordeal:
Just ahead of them, a man from another party was in trouble, staggering around and gasping for air. His body had became hypoxic and his oxygen-starved brain began to swell. His team buzzed their doctor at a camp below on a two-way radio, who reassured them that he would be OK. Grocott, an expert in high-altitude sickness, had a different opinion: it was clear to him that the man was dying. “It often happens,” says Grocott. “If you’re a doctor on a mountain, you expect to be called on to help people.”
As the light began to fade and the temperature dropped, the man’s condition worsened. Vijay Ahuja, a medical student in Grocott’s team, insisted they get involved. The stricken man’s colleagues conceded there was a problem, but it was now too dark to take him down to safety. Recognising the seriousness of the situation, one of the doctors on Grocott’s team, Dan Martin, began treatment. Martin worked through the night, managing to keep the seriously ill climber alive until dawn, when the patient’s team were able to transport him down the mountain.
But doctors are studying what’s going on here, and it can be helpful to people who would never think of ascending anything other than a small hill. That’s because there’s something about altitude sickness that’s very mysterious—it doesn’t just strike those in bad condition. In fact, it appears to strike rather randomly:
Health and fitness have no bearing on human oxygen efficiency: Xtreme Everest has taken 70-year-old civilians up the mountain with no problems, but fit, young military personnel have had to turn back. The issue is genetic, and for the last ten years Xtreme Everest has been trying to identify the specific genes concerned, which in turn might allow scientists to develop drugs that would mimic oxygen-efficient physiology. About 325,000 people are treated in ICUs in the UK each year, and Britons have a one in five chance of ending up in one at some point. Around 80,000 British people die from oxygen-related problems in ICUs every year.
In 2007, the following experiment was conducted. It was quite elaborate:
Sixty scientists, medics and researchers were recruited; 198 members of the public would trek to Base Camp, making themselves hypoxic in the process, and be tested. There would be 60-odd tests on most members of the party, with 15 climbing on to the 8,850-metre-high summit, where they would set up a lab and take the highest-altitude, lowest-oxygen blood samples in history. The simple aim: to discover the key difference between the bodies of the people who coped with the drop in oxygen and those who did not.
Results of the experiment indicated the difference was in the mitochondria. Later studies (published in 2017) of Sherpas—the people who guide expeditions, live in the area, and whose bodies have evolved over time to cope with the altitude—found something astounding:
The Sherpas were not only using oxygen to make ATP more efficiently than lowlanders, but also while the energy levels in the muscles of lowlanders drop at altitude as oxygen becomes scarcer, the energy levels in Sherpa muscles increases. “It is an extraordinary finding,” says Murray. “They need oxygen like we do, but in that low-oxygen environment, they produce not just more energy than us lowlanders, but they themselves have more energy than they do at sea level. In other words, as they climb upwards into the environment where they have adapted for thousands of years, they become healthier.
This can guide researchers who are attempting to produce drugs to help ICU patients and others with hypoxia.
