‘I’ll know in two months whether the drugs I’m getting will work or not’
Vicky wants us to light a candle for her on Tuesday, writes Billy Keane
ICAN hear a clattering of pots and pans coming from Vicky Phelan’s apartment in Maryland. She is cooking up a fry. Rashers and eggs. Vicky talks as she cooks. “I’m going to eat well because next week it could be different when my treatment starts,” she says. You can almost smell the sizzling rashers. One of her new American friends baked a few loaves of brown bread. She managed to get a hold of a tub of Kerrygold. Vicky is in Maryland for a clinical trial which she hopes will prolong her life.
“I am in great form. I’m not sick at all,” she says. “When I got to America last week, there were tests on Tuesday and Wednesday to see if I was suitable for the trials. Three years ago, I went for the trials here in the same hospital and I was told I wasn’t suited to the treatment. The good news came through on Tuesday.”
Before I get a chance to ask about the treatment, Vicky tells me her apartment is very comfortable. “I took out a lease for two months. I’ll know in two months whether the drugs I’m getting will work or not. I think I’ll kind of know by my own body anyway, how I feel at the time.”
I ask her if the lockdown there is strict.
“I spend a lot of time on my own but I’m very comfortable with my own company. It is like Level 3 back home. We can sit outside to eat at the restaurants, but the last couple of days have been cold, very bitter but sunny. I brought my thermals with me. The thermals keep me lovely and warm.” She gets a fit of laughing at that.
“I made friends with Maeve Baily-Whyte and she is an Irish doctor who is here on a cancer research fellowship. Maeve’s husband and her twin girls have moved over. We went for a beautiful walk in the mountains last week. The scenery was fantastic and she’s great company.”
Vicky has had thousands of emails and messages from people wanting to help. “Will you write I cannot get round to everyone?” Vicky puts up videos on Twitter.
“Do you miss the kids?” I ask. She calls them every day at 11am.
“My daughter Amelia is a teenager. She is so used to screens. Amelia takes no notice of talking to me. But my little boy Darragh gets a bit upset sometimes. He goes a bit quiet, that’s how I know. He comes into bed with me at home and he sleeps with me at night to keep me company.”
Vicky says she is in the US to get better and that consoles him.
“The Pembro drugs saved me. I was about two weeks from dying and I was so sick but this time I feel very strong and I feel very good.“
But now the Pembro is no longer enough to keep the cancer at bay. Last week she told me that if the new treatment works, “I could get a few more years out of it.” She spoke of how it was her aunt had a dream, and in the dream Vicky was standing on a bridge in San Francisco. The dream date was five years from now. Hold on tight to your dreams.
She tells me about the treatment.
“On Tuesday, I will be given three drugs. The first drug is something like the Pembro. That’s the main drug but there are two other drugs, I’ll be given to help that one on its way. There will be side effects. You can get a very severe flu from one of the helper drugs and it really knocks a lot out of people who get it. There is a danger of getting skin cancer from the second drug.”
Vicky could only laugh when she heard of the skin cancer risk. “The doctor must have thought I was a bit crazy because I burst out laughing. This was something I never expected but they will laser the skin cancer if it appears and I should be OK,” she says.
There’s no easy way out of this. The treatment will be repeated every two weeks. Then at the end of March, there will be scans and tests.
“We will know then if the treatment is working or not and then I will be told whether I can continue with the trial or whether that’s that for me.”
I ask if she has help for Tuesday. Vicky makes friends fast. “Geraldine Holtzman from Fethard in Co Tipperary is bringing me to the hospital and then she’s taking me back to her house to mind me. The Irish people here have been absolutely amazing. They really stick together. Geraldine will be mortified I spoke about her.”
The masterpiece portrait of Vicky by Clara’s Vincent Devine in aid of Heroes Aid is up for auction live online at sheppards.ie on February 4 at 2pm. “Anyone can watch or bid. I can’t wait to see how much it will go for,” she says.
Vicky is on the board of Heroes Aid. “The charity is close to my heart,” she says. “I have had so much love and care from the frontline healthcare heroes.”
Even if you can’t afford the art, you can make a donation at heroesaid.ie
Just as I say goodbye, Vicky reaches out. “Will you ask people to light a candle for me on Tuesday? I’m dreading what will happen if I get the severe flu side effects.”
I say I have a good feeling she will escape the worst. “I hope so Billy,” she replies.