I have attended today’s debate for three reasons. First, I know of two constituents who have suffered from the contaminated blood scandal. Secondly, the Backbench Business Committee is doing good by returning to the subject of one of its earliest debates in 2010, so we can take this as a test of what sort of progress can and should be made during a Parliament. Thirdly and most seriously, I share the view of many in the Chamber that this issue is a national disgrace and a national tragedy. The victims have suffered long enough. I endorse the calls in the comprehensive inquiry by the APPG and I thank the various hon. Members who contributed to it. I also endorse its view that a public inquiry is necessary to establish culpability.
I shall use this time to tell the story of my constituents, and much of what I say will be direct quotations from them. They asked me to attend this debate, to speak for them and to support their interests. One in particular thanked me for such forms of support, saying:
“You have no idea how importantly we, in this contaminated blood community, who are very sick and ill, hold them.”
She wanted to make sure that we know that
“they are ill and exhausted and do not want to be constantly fighting and campaigning.”
Anne had an operation in 1974 that required three pints of blood. She knew by 2001 that she had been infected with hepatitis C, and she is now a stage 2 Skipton Fund recipient. She has suffered decompensated hepatitis C cirrhosis, end-stage liver disease, cancer, osteoporosis with weak teeth and a compression fracture of the spine, portal hypertension and oesophageal bleeding for which, she says,
“the procedures had recently are no cure, they simply stop the likelihood of my bleeding to death from the mouth and will return.”
She has splenomegaly, with her spleen twice the size it should be; in her words,
“it…‘eats’ platelets, red blood cells and immune giving chemicals.”
She has extreme fatigue and often describes her inability do anything more than be in bed all day, which is very hard when the treating hospital is several hours’ travel away. She has had four rounds of interferon injections—a drug that she says is “like chemo”—and pills that
“kill all your cells good and bad”.
Anne has most recently had a liver transplant, for which her consultant cheered her up with three things to worry about: No. 1, dying on the list to get the transplant; No. 2, not surviving the 10-hour operation; and No. 3, rejecting the new liver. She has had a drug regime that has helped to remove the virus. Indeed, when I spoke to her since the transplant, she sounded like a new woman, even when she almost cheerily told me:
“I still have cancer, but the Hep C has gone!”
Anne has been concerned about funeral payments so that her family do not need to worry. She explains the daily humiliation of waiting until last in a doctor’s or dentist’s surgery because she is infectious; she says she is being “treated like a leper”. She describes the
“stigma of cirrhosis and a disease associated with drugs”.
Anne would like priority support for survivors, although the majority will already be dead. In particular, she wants access to liver transplants and access to new drugs. She would like a national strategy for GPs to understand better the complexity of hepatitis C infection. She would also like better advocacy, because so many people affected are not in a position to speak for themselves.