Lord Menzies Campbell

You can also listen to Lord Campbell tell his story in this podcast. Also available on Apple Podcasts and Spotify

Lord Campbell’s career is an esteemed and varied one. In 1964 he competed in the 200 metres and 4 x 100 metres relay at the Tokyo Olympic Games, and he held the British record for the 100 metres sprint from 1967 until 1974.  In those days, Olympic sportsmen and women were amateurs, so he then had to focus on his legal career, being called to the bar in Scotland in 1968. and in 1982 he became a Queen’s Counsel. But his enthusiasm for sport never waned and he was delighted to be invited to be a member of the London 2012 Olympic Board.

But Lord Campbell is probably best known as a Member of Parliament (MP). He was first elected to Westminster in 1987 for the Scottish constituency of North East Fife. He went on to become the Liberal Democrat chief spokesperson for foreign affairs and defence, deputy leader in February 2003, and party leader from March 2006 until October 2007. He is presently Chancellor of the University of St Andrews.

Last year Menzies Campbell stepped down as an MP and received a life peerage, becoming Baron Campbell of Pittenweem and a member of the House of Lords where he continues to follow his interest in foreign affairs.

Lord Campbell explains how the signs were there, but a diagnosis of lymphoma still came as an enormous shock:

‘In 2002 I was having some pain in my right hip, which got worse over time. After about 6 months, the pain was making it difficult for me to walk, so I was referred to an orthopaedic surgeon. He thought the pain was caused by back problems, which could be helped with physiotherapy. I went to a sports physiotherapist, but after 2 visits he said he felt sure that the problem was not in my back, but in my hip. By now it was acutely painful and I was aware that I was losing weight.

I was referred back to hospital to have further X-rays of my hip. I distinctly recall being in the room with 3 consultants explaining that I would have to be transferred to another department immediately to be properly assessed and diagnosed. Alarm bells were ringing.

I was told I had a malignant tumour on my hip. Although I should have suspected something like this, I broke out in a sweat and almost fainted. I just wanted to leave in the hope it would all go away. I didn’t want to tell people at the time, but because of my parliamentary responsibilities I knew I needed to tidy things up in London to make way for my treatment. While in London I was contacted by the haematologist who would be treating me. I was back in Scotland within a couple of days to meet him.

He explained that I had non-Hodgkin lymphoma with a primary bone tumour on my acetabulum (the socket of the hip bone).

I deliberately did not research my condition on the internet and even to this day don’t know what subtype of non-Hodgkin lymphoma I had. I simply knew I was to have chemotherapy followed by radiotherapy.

From the start, I had every confidence in my consultant and was happy to leave my care in his hands. In fact, the more I thought about it, the less inclined I was to know anything of the detail. I was sure he would provide me with the best of care.  

Although I had not wanted to make it public, I felt sure the story would leak and I wanted it to be accurate. I drafted a press release and showed it to my haematologist to confirm that what I was saying was correct. 

This was a really difficult time politically and I found it very hard to be away from Parliament. It was just prior to Tony Blair and George W Bush agreeing military action against Saddam Hussein. As the Liberal Democrat chief spokesperson for foreign affairs and defence I was opposed to military action (as were the party) and I felt a huge responsibility and obligation.

While undergoing treatment, I appeared on TV and wrote several newspaper articles. These were a distraction and made me feel involved, which helped me to cope with the lymphoma emotionally. In addition, my constituents were very sympathetic and understanding, although my constituency office was having to work its socks off.   

For me, there were real benefits to being at home, which I cannot overstate. I had excellent treatment, tremendous support from my wife, family and friends, which made such a difference, and I also had good luck.

Treatment started straight away. Although chemotherapy was usually given on a 3-week cycle, my consultant explained that they had a trial with a 2-week chemotherapy cycle. He explained it would be tougher, but he felt I was fit enough to withstand it.

I coped well with the chemotherapy in the beginning, but towards the end I was in pretty poor shape. I couldn’t eat because of the chemotherapy so I had to have build-up drinks to help. I felt really wretched and quite nervous.

Half way through treatment I had a scan and was told that the tumour had shrunk far more than could have been hoped. My wife and I both felt really reassured. It felt like things were going in the right direction and we went out to lunch and drank champagne, although it tasted like vinegar to me.

While I was undergoing treatment in 2003, the deputy leader stepped down. I got on a train to London, spoke at hustings for the deputy leadership and was elected. Looking back now it seems quite bizarre to have done that.

The scan at the end of chemotherapy showed no sign of the tumour, to the relief of myself and my wife.

Chemotherapy was followed by radiotherapy. Compared with the chemotherapy, the radiotherapy was straightforward. I had to have it 5 times a week for 4 weeks, and always at 11am.

During this period, there was a debate and vote in the House of Commons on Iraq and I desperately wanted to be there to vote against military action. I explained this at the radiography clinic and they scheduled my appointments to allow me to travel to London and return without missing a radiotherapy session.

Radiotherapy came to an end during the Easter recess of 2003. Going back to the House of Commons for the first time was really emotional. On my first day, I stood up to ask a question in the usual way. Clapping is not encouraged in the House, but there was a ripple of ‘hear, hear’ which made me feel that I was really back. But I immediately turned to the business of the day.

Sometime later, after my treatment had finished, I was walking up some stairs and felt breathless. I thought nothing of it, but after investigation I was told that I had suffered some heart damage as a side effect of the treatment. I now have to take medication for my heart condition and have a defibrillator implanted. But in spite of all this, I live a perfectly normal life.’

October 2016