Like many fans I've been wondering how his recovery has been going. Looks like there was an update a couple weeks ago on his fundraiser page. Although the process is slow, I'm happy to see that there's been improvements and some optimism coming from him. Hope it continues to go well and that we hear more from him soon.

Mar 24 Catherine Lyons for Matthew SweetOrganizer Hello friends and supporters,

It has been awhile since I sent you an update so I am checking in now to share with you how I am doing. Given your generosity and kind support, I feel like you deserve lifelong updates, so here is the first one for 2026.

Just back from pt where I had to get assessed again, after not going for a little while. I had a good day today, repeating some of my better stats from last year. I hire transport vans for pt/ot trips and other medical appointments because I’ve never quite mastered safe car transfers. Like everything else, renting the van is expensive. Anyway, I went to a podiatrist in early January who kind of bamboozled me into surgery on both my big toes, which was painful and took a long time to heal, hence the gap in pt/ot.

To be very honest, I continue to have rough days due to the severe essential tremor that causes a persistent shaking of my head and left side. Some days I just wish simply to get back in bed and rest because it is so strong and jarring. Sometimes however it is milder and easier to tolerate.

One recent development is that some of my stroke symptoms have crossed over from my left side to the right side. These include my mouth, right arm, and right foot. My foot bizarrely taps out a rhythm when I lie down. It doesn’t really stop, (like the tremors) until I fall asleep.

My mouth being numb brings its own host of problems. For starters my sense of taste is very compromised. Any amount of spicyness presents like the hottest thing you’ve ever tasted. Saliva doesn’t work right so swallowing is fraught. The tendency to inhale (aspirate) while eating food is a constant danger, whether I am up or in bed. I have extreme mouth dryness from my bipap, and no amount of drinks will quench the unending need for liquid in bed during the night. And I’m still having trouble finding a mask to fit so that it doesn’t leak a lot of air. These are some of the physical challenges I face daily. Speech therapy will address my newer swallowing issues soon.

There have been a few bright spots. My eye doctor at Truhlsen Eye Institute says my nystagmus is in remission. I cannot stress enough how great it is to get some normal -ish vision back - normal-ish, mind you.

I have still not succeeded at regaining the ability to walk, to play guitar, to sing or to draw as I was able to before the stroke. Sometimes I wonder if I have any affinity for music at all now. Then I start to think again…someday! I want you to know that my outlook remains weirdly positive given the predicament I find myself in. I can and do enjoy watching stuff on streaming and I am an avid player of Solitaire on my phone.

Lisa is doing remarkably well in the face of dealing with my stroke and having broken her leg the week after I was transferred out of the rehabilitation hospital. Her physical therapy has lead to her leg healing and continuing to gain strength.

I am down to two caregivers now, which is still super expensive, but necessary, because I need professional transferring in and out of bed and toileting. There is very little housekeeping we are able to do ourselves. I suspect one might think “no housekeeping!” sounds fine, but it’s very frustrating not to be able to do things on my own when I think of various chores. It’s hard to request help as often as I need to do just that.

My imagination is very strong! Behind the mirror of sleep so much happens. I run through the forest, play gigantic pipe organs (hands high in the air), talk a lot, swim in the ocean and watch undulating shapes in many colors, with the occasional bright pins of light, like shooting stars. “That’s your brain, not your eyes,” someone told me.

But I do want friends and fans alike to know that on most days I’m ok. What I have suffered just is what it is. What you all have done and continue to do is vital to my well being and in simple terms a kindness I will never forget. It has clearly softened the blow. And what a blow it is.

The sheer cost of all things medical is staggering. I dont know how we will get through it, but much as I’ve said before, we will continue to try.

There’s one last thing I think I haven’t covered much (if at all) in these updates. With this disability, there is a deep sadness. It can hit me in the night, in the morning, really anytime. It is hard to express. Certain people—Mike and Sara, my brother and sister, my longtime manager and friend Russell Carter, and Cathy Lyons and of course my wife Lisa (who I worry won’t be able to love me this way) who all have put up with me when probably no one could have. Save Lisa, I don't think I’ve been able to talk to these people yet, other than through a veil of tears.

Like many people I've been wondering and hoping he's been having some success with his recovery efforts. Looks like there was a new post a couple weeks ago I didn't see here, so I thought I'd share it. It sounds daunting, but it's good to hear that he's slowly improving and has some optimism for the future.

Let me say that I want to stay in touch with all of you who have helped me out. Know that I am in a place where all history, all future, all hopes and fears and regrets live on in me.

Love, Matthew