It’s a story that could have been ripped from the pages of a film script; a choir from Bolton that started with just 16 members who found themselves performing at the Royal Albert Hall to an audience of thousands less than a decade after their first rehearsal.
In a lot of ways Bolton Cancer Voices is a choir like any other. They meet every Monday evening at the same rehearsal space in Deansgate, they practice their scales and work through songs, new and old. But, as their name suggests, there’s one key difference. Every member is a survivor of, or currently in treatment for, cancer.
Bolton Cancer Voices was formed in 2012, but, after her father’s sudden passing from a cancer diagnosis, founder Karen Elliott already had a lot of experience supporting local cancer initiatives.
“A lot of patients at the time were describing how finishing the treatment was like falling into a black hole,” said Karen. “They’d been guided along this treatment journey, this conveyor belt of tests. Then suddenly someone says ‘right, we’ll see you in six-months’ or ‘right, we’re signing you off.’
“For some people it’s only at the point where active treatment finishes that they have the headspace to think ‘…hang on a minute. Did someone say I’ve got cancer?’ It’s only at that point when the whole experience starts to take shape.”
After years of brainstorming creative initiatives to help cancer patients and survivors, Karen – who by 2012 was the chair of a cancer information support centre – had her ‘eureka moment’. A choir.
“The most ringing endorsement I received was from the lady who became our treasurer,” said Karen. “She said, ‘….well I’ll give you this. It’s the least daft idea you’ve come up with so far.’”
It wasn’t an easy beginning for the group, but the kindness and financial support of institutions like the Bolton Lions Club helped get Bolton Cancer Voices on their feet. However, money has always been front-of-mind for Karen, and for good reason.
“It was very important to me that membership was free, because people have paid a very high price to start with,” said Karen. “That does mean we constantly have to think about where the next income is coming from. We’ve no regular source of income at all.
“Donations and fundraising are our lifeblood. We’ve done sponsored walks, the duck race at the Rotary Club of Turton, the members sell magazines and books to each other and put the profits towards the choir.
“Even if it’s just a few pounds, it’s a few pounds to help us do what we do.”
Bolton Cancer Voices steadily grew over the years, and, as it grew, became more and more invaluable for its members. Carrie, for example, spent 32 years as a staff nurse in the NHS before receiving a cancer diagnosis at the same hospital where she’d spent decades working.
“I knew all the staffers, so I wanted this one particular doctor,” she said. “I was so nervous. Even though I worked there, it’s different when you’re a patient.
“When he came in and shut the door behind him, I just knew.”
But not long after Carrie’s diagnosis, she called Bolton Cancer Voices.
“Karen made me feel so welcome, and so excited about going,” she said. “I didn’t know a soul – none of us did – but from that day I’ve never regretted it.
“We all share the common bond of knowing what we’ve all been through. We speak about cancer if we want, but it’s not like we all go in and talk about it all the time. But we all know we’ve been through, or are going through, something.”
But beyond a shared experience dealing with the trauma of cancer, members of Bolton Cancer Voices are connected by a collective belief in the healing power of singing.
“We did a very informal survey not long after we started and asked the choir members if they felt they’d benefitted in any physical, mental or emotional way – and 85% of the members who responded said they had,” said Karen.
“And it was all sorts of things; feeling better within yourself, someone said they were using their inhaler a lot less.
“We can talk about the endorphins, we can talk about the chemistry, but at the end of the day does it really matter how the magic happens?”
While skeptical of the physical benefits of singing, Lynne, a member of the choir who’s been there since the beginning, says that there’s a spiritually healing element.
“I’ve had cancer three times now,” she said. “I just hate it. I hate everything about it. But the people in the choir are so supportive of you.
“It really helped my recovery, a lot. I really feel better for going. When you’re singing in a choir, you’re not thinking ‘oh god I need to take a tablet’ or ‘I’ve got an appointment tomorrow’. It’s just a complete time-out.
“The only hard part is losing people.”
Understandably, Karen says that she always has mixed feelings when the choir gets a new recruit.
“Whenever someone rings me asking to join the choir, half of me throws my hands up in the air and goes ‘Yeah! New member!’ she says. “But the other half is going ‘Oh god. Another cancer diagnosis’ – I’ve never got away from that.
“We have found our own way of celebrating a member’s life when they pass away. At the rehearsal at which I let everybody know what’s happened, we start by singing a song that we know they particularly liked or that they’ve had a lot of laughs about learning.
“That’s the way we honour the memory of someone who’s been a part of our story. But it never gets any easier. And nor should it.”
And there’s one particular story that Karen will never forget.
“There was one older gentleman who came to us quite late in his cancer journey,” she said. “He’d been around for a long time singing the circuit of pubs and clubs.
“One of his family brought him, and he was only able to sing one song. He came the following week too and, again, did what he was able to do.
“The third week one of his relatives popped in and told me that he was in the car out front. He wasn’t well enough to come in, but would I come out to see him? Which I duly did.
“He said to me ‘I wonder if you’d do me the great honour of taking my music’. And in the boot of the car were several carrier bags full of music.
“I remember getting home that evening, and, in these carrier bags, I could see his life in music. From the designs on the sheet music, from rock ‘n’ roll to crooner numbers. I could just map it.
“It was just such a privilege to see his life that way. And to know that we’d enabled him to do that until very near the end of his life.”
In 2018, just six-years after they began, Bolton Cancer Voices took to the stage of the Royal Albert Hall as part of the ‘Festival of Brass and Voices’, in aid of Cancer Research UK, performing to an audience of thousands. But, as wonderful as the experience was, Karen doesn’t think audience size is remotely the point.
“We’ve never done a concert where at least one person hasn’t sought me out afterwards and shared their, or a member of their families, cancer journey, and how much we’ve inspired or uplifted them,” she said. “At those moments in time, I don’t care if no one else in the audience had enjoyed what we’d done.
“At the end of the day, we’re just a choir, but if we can impact someone else’s life for the better then that’s all that matters.”
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Carrie would like to personally thank all friends and family who’ve supported her and the choir.
To donate Bolton Cancer Voices, please visit their Just Giving page here
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Featured Image Provided by Karen Elliott and Bolton Cancer Voices
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