While I was waiting for brain surgery, I instinctively pressed record on my phone camera, thinking maybe I was documenting the last months of my life.

I’ve made a career out of telling other people’s stories, but it felt like it was time to tell my own.

It started with a bicycle accident in June 2023 when I broke 10 ribs – but it also revealed a much bigger health challenge.

One night in bed, I had a seizure which led to the diagnosis of a cancerous brain tumor.

The most likely scenario appears to be that I have an aggressive glioblastoma, a tumor that usually ends your life within 12 to 18 months.

On my hospital bed, I turned the camera on myself, not for self-indulgence, but to shine a light on a terrible cancer that is hard to treat and even harder to defeat.

I guess it was my way of finding some purpose out of a personal tragedy.

the result is my brain tumor and me – A TV and iPlayer movie that’s more optimistic than you think.

15 months later I’m still going strong after it was discovered that I have a rare form of the disease, oligodendroglioma, which responds better to treatment.

The brilliant brain surgeon Paul Brennan saved my life by cutting out most of my tumor and, with radiotherapy and chemotherapy, it seems I now have my cancer under control.

There are quarterly scans to see if it is growing again.

There has been some misinformation but the most recent tests show that my tumor is stable. I don’t know how long this will last.

I try not to worry too much between scans because I can’t control what the size of my brain tumor will be.

I am learning to deal with the difficult legacies of my cancer treatment – ​​constant fatigue and the risk of further seizures.

A daily nap and careful budgeting of my time and effort helps combat fatigue.

Adjustment of anti-seizure medication may reduce the frequency and severity of any seizures.

It took time, trial and error to get it right.

Last year in December I suffered a massive stroke which left me in intensive care.

A medically induced coma was the only way doctors could stop it.

When I got there I felt very lucky to be alive – but the euphoria I had experienced after brain surgery was missing.

This time I felt as if I had narrowly escaped death.

It was all a little too close for comfort. I was very emotional.

This was and remains the lowest point in my experience living with brain cancer.

But I bounced back and further adjustments to my epilepsy medications gave me enough confidence to return to the hills I love so much.

It is very frustrating to feel absolutely fine and then become immobilized due to epilepsy. Tours are also physically exhausting.

If I had thought there was a high chance of this happening that day, I would have stayed home.

This is one of my four biggest tours so far. Other incidents occurred in bed, at work and in the hospital car park.

Nikolaj and the other hikers made me comfortable on the hill and I was given medicine which I carry with me.

There was an impressive response from the emergency services and I imagined recovering up the hill and then slowly walking back to the car park.

But that was not to be.

At times, the professionals caring for me on the mountain weren’t sure whether things were getting better or worse, so they decided to put me in a Coast Guard helicopter and take me to the hospital.

I want to thank everyone who was there for me that day. I am extremely grateful.

By the time I reached A&E in Glasgow, the seizures had stopped. I was soon calling friends and family to find the best way home to East Lothian.

While on the hill, I had convinced my hiking partner to film some of the drama on his phone.

At first, he was uncomfortable with this request, but when I explained that I wanted to show what a tour was like, he agreed.

His camerawork is some of the footage featured in My Brain Tumor and Me – my attempt to give insight into living with an incurable cancer that is not well understood.

My wife Claire and my mother Jennifer also described the impact such a devastating diagnosis can have on your family.

I am very lucky. I’m challenging the normal barriers.

Six out of 10 people with brain cancer do not survive more than a year after their diagnosis.

I may stay here for a few more years.

If I have any trouble, I know I can count on the love and support of my family and friends.

I have found this even more overwhelming and humbling than facing my own mortality.

I also have a wonderful network of fellow brain tumor patients to help me, including my friend Theo Burrell.

This is important because sometimes only someone in a similar situation can truly understand.

The medical care I have received from NHS doctors and nurses in Edinburgh has been exceptional.

My recovery is allowing me to gradually return to work covering politics for BBC Scotland.

This helps me stay positive, as does the personal effort I make at Brain Power – a fundraising community I set up to help set up a new brain tumor research center in Scotland .

No one can tell me how I got the tumor and no one can cure it.

I believe that well-resourced science can do a lot better. If not for me, then for those who come later.

In my case, there is no need for medical assistance in case of seizures since the airlift in March.

After four months away from the mountains, my walking shoes are back on.

My personal challenge is to climb all 282 Munros – Scottish mountains above 3,000 feet – by the end of 2028.

Despite all my health problems since last summer, I have completed my first nine, including Mi Nan Termachan for the second time. it’s a start.

There was a lot of dog walking and a little running and cycling.

In June, around the anniversary of my bike accident, I returned to the same path I was on when I crashed.

I called the café I was visiting that day and enjoyed the breakfast I couldn’t get a year ago.

French toast with bacon and maple syrup never tasted so good.

I’m now starting to think about how to celebrate my 50th birthday in 2026 – 15 months from now.

It wasn’t long ago that I thought I wouldn’t be around to mark that milestone.

Now half a century seems difficult.

If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this story you can visit BBC Action Line.

my brain tumor and me – Glen Campbell confronts his mortality and contemplates what matters most in life.

You can watch the program on BBC One Scotland on Wednesday 20 November at 19:00 On iPlayer.