BBC’s Glenn Campbell Shares His Journey Living with a Brain Tumour

While awaiting brain surgery, I instinctively began recording with my phone camera, contemplating that I might be capturing the concluding period of my life. Having built a career narrating the experiences of others, I felt it was now appropriate to share my own story. My health journey commenced with a bicycle accident in June 2023, resulting in 10 broken ribs; however, this incident subsequently uncovered a more significant medical issue. A seizure experienced one night in bed led to the discovery of a cancerous brain tumour. Initially, the most probable diagnosis appeared to be an aggressive glioblastoma, a type of tumour generally associated with a life expectancy of 12 to 18 months. From my hospital bed, I directed the camera towards myself, not out of self-indulgence, but with the intention of highlighting a severe cancer that presents significant challenges in treatment and overcoming. I considered this action as my method of deriving meaning from a personal misfortune. The outcome of this effort is “My Brain Tumour And Me” – a film available on TV and iPlayer, which conveys a considerably more optimistic message than anticipated. Fifteen months later, I continue to thrive, as it was discovered that I have a rare variant of the illness, an oligodendroglioma, which typically shows a more favorable response to therapeutic interventions. The skilled brain surgeon Paul Brennan preserved my life by surgically removing the majority of my tumour, and the subsequent radiotherapy and chemotherapy appear to be currently managing my cancer. Regular quarterly scans are conducted to monitor for any regrowth. While there have been a few instances of false alarms, the latest examination indicates that my tumour remains stable. The duration of this stability is unknown to me. I endeavor to minimize excessive worry between scans, acknowledging that the activity of my brain tumour is beyond my control. The challenging after-effects of my cancer treatment, specifically persistent fatigue and the potential for additional seizures, are what I have been learning to manage. Managing the fatigue is aided by a daily nap and a meticulous allocation of my time and energy. Modifications to my anti-seizure medication have reduced both the occurrence and intensity of any fits. Achieving the correct balance required a process of time, experimentation, and adjustments. Last December, I experienced a significant seizure that necessitated admission to intensive care. A medically-induced coma was the sole method doctors could employ to halt it. Upon regaining consciousness, I felt profoundly fortunate to be alive, yet the sense of euphoria I had felt following brain surgery was absent. On this occasion, I perceived that I had only just avoided death. The experience had been uncomfortably close. I was deeply emotional. This incident represented, and continues to be, the nadir of my journey with brain cancer. Nevertheless, I recovered, and subsequent refinements to my epilepsy medication instilled sufficient confidence for me to resume visiting the hills I cherish. I seldom feel more invigorated than when I am atop one of Scotland’s impressive mountains. By March of this year, I felt sufficiently well to ascend one without any apprehension. The medical specialists have stated explicitly that their aim is not to restrict my activities. Instead, they wish to facilitate me living as normal a life as feasible. Prior to my ascent of Meall nan Tarmachan, situated on the shores of Loch Tay, I had successfully climbed another mountain the preceding weekend without any issues. Consequently, when my friend Nikolaj and I departed from the Ben Lawers car park to ascend the Perthshire peak, we harbored no worries. Within 10 minutes, before our climb had truly commenced, I abruptly needed to lie down. Soon after, my left hand and arm began twitching and shaking uncontrollably. I was experiencing another seizure. It is profoundly frustrating to feel entirely healthy and then be incapacitated by epilepsy. Seizures are also physically draining. Had I anticipated a significant likelihood of this occurring that day, I would have remained at home. This particular incident marks one of only four major seizures I have experienced. The others took place while in bed, at my workplace, and in a hospital car park. Nikolaj and other hikers ensured my comfort on the hillside, and I received the medication I carry. The emergency services responded commendably, and I envisioned recovering on the slope before slowly walking back to the car park. However, this was not the outcome. At various points, the professionals assisting me on the mountainside were uncertain whether my condition was improving or deteriorating, leading them to decide to airlift me via a Coastguard helicopter to a hospital. I wish to express my gratitude to everyone who supported me that day. I am profoundly thankful. The seizure had ceased by the time I arrived at A&E in Glasgow. I promptly contacted friends and family to arrange my journey home to East Lothian. During the incident on the hill, I had convinced my hiking partner to record some of the unfolding events on his phone. Initially, he felt uneasy about this request, but he consented after I clarified my intention to illustrate the experience of having a seizure. His videography constitutes some of the material included in “My Brain Tumour and Me” – my endeavor to offer perspective on living with an incurable cancer that lacks widespread understanding. My wife Claire and my mother Jennifer also articulated the profound effect such a dire diagnosis can have on one’s family. I consider myself very fortunate, as I am exceeding typical survival probabilities. Six out of ten individuals diagnosed with brain cancer do not survive beyond one year post-diagnosis. I anticipate being alive for several more years. Should I face a setback, I am confident I can rely on the affection and assistance of my family and friends. I have found this support to be more profound and humbling than facing my own mortality. Furthermore, I benefit from an excellent community of fellow brain tumour patients, including my friend Theo Burrell, who provide support. This is crucial because, at times, only someone sharing a similar condition can truly comprehend the experience. The medical attention I have received from NHS doctors and nurses in Edinburgh has been outstanding. My recuperation is enabling me to progressively resume my work covering politics for BBC Scotland. This contributes to my positive outlook, as does my personal commitment to Brain Power – a fundraising initiative I established to support the creation of a new Brain Tumour Research center in Scotland. No one can explain the origin of my tumour, and no one can cure it. I believe that adequately funded scientific research can achieve significantly more. If not for my benefit, then for future generations. Regarding my condition, there has been no requirement for medical intervention for seizures since the airlift in March. Following a four-month hiatus from mountain climbing, I have resumed wearing my walking boots. My personal objective is to ascend all 282 Munros – Scottish mountains exceeding 3,000ft in height – by the close of 2028. Notwithstanding all my health challenges since the previous summer, I have successfully completed my initial nine ascents, including Meall nan Tarmachan for a second time. This marks a beginning. Additionally, there has been extensive dog walking and some running and cycling. In June, coinciding with the anniversary of my bicycle accident, I revisited the path I was on when I fell. I stopped at the café I had intended to reach that day and savored the breakfast I had been unable to have the previous year. French toast accompanied by bacon and maple syrup has never tasted as delicious. I am now beginning to contemplate how to commemorate my 50th birthday in 2026, which is 15 months away. Not long ago, I believed I would not be present to observe that significant milestone. Presently, reaching my half-century appears achievable. Individuals impacted by any themes presented in this narrative can access BBC Action Line. “My Brain Tumour And Me” portrays Glenn Campbell confronting his mortality and reflecting on life’s most significant aspects. The program is available for viewing on BBC One Scotland at 19:00 on Wednesday, November 20, or via the iPlayer. Copyright 2024 BBC. 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