What do you do when you're a young doctor with a brilliant career before you and suddenly you're told you've got advanced cancer and there is no certainty of cure and whatever happens you're in for months of uncomfortable, debilitating and disruptive treatments?
What do you do, as a doctor, when you discover that you're no longer in complete control of your life and you're isolated and you're not getting the support and above all the information that you need to organise yourself in your new and unfamiliar role as a patient?
Well, if you're Vicky, you found BACUP.
In her own words she was struck "with how little we know how to deal with the disease, both emotionally and practically and where to turn for help". So in the three years before her death she set to and built this organisation. She did it in the face of constant ill-health and massive and debilitating treatments. None of us who were privileged to help her will forget her shining personality or the way in which she inspired and motivated those who worked with her. Thousands of cancer patients and their families are in her debt.
Vicky organised her society with energy, single-mindedness and insight. She realised from the start that for BACUP to succeed she needed good publicity, money and the backing of medical and lay experts. Most important the doctors should not feel challenged by BACUP but should become part of a partnership with the patient, the family and BACUP, all dedicated to achieving a common goal; a secure, peaceful and, above all, informed patient.
Of course, she succeeded brilliantly. Hundreds of cancer specialists and other doctors, professional people, public figures and other well wishers came to her aid. Finance was raised privately and from all the major cancer charities. The press united behind her and she used her celebrity brilliantly and unselfconsciously to publicise BACUP. And in doing this, she not only made a major change in the quality of life of cancer patients and the families, but for many people in this country she altered the way they thought about cancer in particular and illness in general; she gave them back their dignity and sense of importance, she handed back to them control over their lives, she helped them to feel valued. Also, it seems to me, she was one of those rare people who actually influence medical practice, who change the way we perceive our work and go about doing it.
She had an extraordinary knack of getting people to do what she wanted, it was one of her most memorable qualities, and without any formal training she demonstrated managerial skills that were quite breathtaking.
In the light of what she achieved and all the good she did, it would be easy for those who never met her to imagine Vicky as a solemn character, a sort of medical Joan of Arc. In fact, she was a wonderfully funny, cheerful and down to earth person. As well as having so many admirable characteristics, she also had a host of endearing ones. For me, her most loveable characteristic was her total lack of false modesty, her certain knowledge that she was special. One day, when walking through Smithfield Market to BACUP she was hailed by a porter. "Saw you on the box yesterday", he said. "Wasn't I good?" she replied.
Well, she was, wasn't she?
She was good and clever and funny and creative and constant and brave and inspirational; and out of all that pain and suffering and uncertainty she brought forth BACUP and that is her memorial. I hope she's looking down on us here today and I hope she's pleased.
For all of us, her approval meant more than words can say.
