We spent all of that time in the car, occasionally running the engine to try to stay warm.
At one stage Mike trotted off through the blizzard in search of food, but he found that there was nothing substantial available and he was very deflated returning with meagre bags of crisps.
That disaster in Stranraer was hardship beyond anything we imagined, but it didn’t put Mike off. He was happy to continue doing the entire tour by car, boat and train if that was my wish.
And that’s what we did during those winter months of 2010.
* * *
Mike remembers that when we’d arrive at the venue where Lord of the Dance was performing I’d jump out of the car and race to the stage. I became a different person.
I think the mindset and the approach we adopted helped me to cope with everything else that was thrown at me health-wise. And I managed to go through the six sessions of chemotherapy during all of that.
Michael Flatley was very good to me throughout that period. But I didn’t make a fuss about my treatment, or talk about incidents like the time I spent in intensive care with my throat problem. It was only our families and the people who were babysitting me at the time that knew what I went through.
Michael had no idea of the effort I made to do the tour, but that was my choice. I simply told him that I would be coming and going and disappearing here and there for a few days, and Michael was happy to allow me to organise my own life around the show while I got back on my feet. And when I was with the show he booked me into the exclusive hotels where he was staying, so that I’d have the best of everything.
There were times when I had to cope with very unpleasant side effects of chemotherapy on the tour. That wasn’t easy when you’re on the road and away from the comforts of your own home.
When we were in Hamburg, Mike and I decided to have a wander through the Christmas market in the city to soak up the atmosphere. The German markets are just so fabulous, particularly at that time of the year. But as soon as we left the hotel I started to feel nauseous. I knew then that I was going to be violently sick and we raced back to the hotel … where I didn’t make it to the bathroom on time.
Diarrhoea was an ongoing problem as well, and that was always one of my biggest fears when I was travelling, particularly on the couple of occasions that I went by plane with the dancers and we would then transfer to a bus after we landed. I have one awful memory of having to stop the coach and get off when we were just half an hour into our journey during that period. So travelling by car and train across Europe was the better option for me.
The side effects of the drugs can be awful, and that was my experience. I think I got all of them. There were times when the medical team would suggest stopping the treatment or changing a drug, but I insisted on continuing on. I would say to myself: hopefully the next one will be easier.
At one stage I ended up with neutropaenia when my white blood cells fell dramatically. This left me exposed to bacterial infections, so I was carted back to hospital again.
My breast cancer nurse then rang Peter Mersey, the Lord of the Dance tour manager, and told him that the catering staff should provide liver and spinach for me whenever I was away with them.
When I went back to work, Peter took great delight in informing me that he had ordered this special diet for my meals, thinking that I would be horrified at the thought of having to eat liver and spinach. What he didn’t realise, as I took equal pleasure in telling him, is that I quite like liver and spinach. So we had a laugh over that.
Then I got a blood clot, which was nothing to do with either the liver or the spinach, and I had to take a course of Warfarin.
It was one setback after another, but I persevered and got through it.
Anne Boland Kelly, a dance teacher and adjudicator in Dublin and a friend of mine going back many years, had gone through a similar cancer experience six months beforehand. Anne passed on a very good tip for coping with chemotherapy.
‘You can never drink enough water,’ she stressed.
And my own medical team gave me the same advice. So I was drinking gallons of water every day and it was a big help. Now I would tell anyone in the same situation to never be without a glass of water. It is an essential part of getting through the treatment.
As I said, my passion for my work definitely helped me too, and I would say to anyone facing cancer: keep as much normality in your life as you can. That was the other advice I received from my friend Anne. She would also call me regularly when I was going through the treatment to see how I was getting on, and I would moan about whatever was giving me problems. Then she’d offer me solutions from her own experience. Anne was a great help and comfort to me. Sadly we have since lost her.
After I finished the chemotherapy I had a month of rest before the radiotherapy, which I flew through without any problems.
As time went on my hair grew again. It was curly beforehand, but it came back curlier with a sort of orange colour compared to the original mousy brown. Of course, there was plenty of silver splashed throughout it as well, and I started putting colour in it when I was allowed.
Hilary, my Irish dancing friend, introduced me to a hairdresser in Chiswick called Sonia from the local Ruby B salon. Sonia uses a special hair colouring product that has no chemicals in it, which is ideal for someone who is a cancer patient. I then passed the product on to my own hairdresser and soon I was back to being a blonde again.
Well, blondes do have more fun!
My hair had started growing back just in time for some big red carpet moments when Michael Flatley launched his 3D film of Lord of the Dance in London’s West End and on Broadway, New York, in 2011. I’m a firm believer in celebrating the good times and the special events, so I really enjoyed those nights with everyone in the company and dancers from the various schools. I took great pleasure from organising all the invitations to the Irish dancing schools in the UK and New York. We had a thousand dancers from all over New York at the Broadway premiere. Our friend, Shirley Bassey, was among the VIP guests for our big night in the West End.
* * *
In the summer of 2015, five years after I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I got the all-clear.
The peace of mind that comes with that news is marvellous. After you get cancer, any ache or pain is a niggling worry. But I had thorough checks and all was fine.
My faith in the Sacred Heart, and in my medical team headed up by Abigail Evans and oncologist Dr. Amit Chakrabarti, had been more than justified.
I had stayed positive the whole way through my treatment, which is what you need to do, even during dark and difficult days. But I know how lucky I am to have survived my cancer because it was so far gone by the time I went to get it checked.
So, really, I was given another chance to live life and I’m so grateful for that gift.
The other positive aspect of that whole saga was the new group of friends that it brought into my life. One of them was my breast cancer nurse Leslie-May Harrison, who was a saint to me. Leslie-May has a network of people who have been through cancer and if she feels that one of her patients needs support during treatment she can link them up with someone to talk to.
When I was brought into the intensive care unit with my throat problem, Leslie-May introduced me to a lovely lady called Eve Went. Eve had been through a hard and very difficult time with her own cancer and had come out the other end. Now she takes time out of her busy life to help others as they work their way through that challenge. At the time, I found Eve’s words and advice a great source of comfort and reassurance.
Leslie-May also runs a little support group called The Harbour Girls, named after the hospital. Eve brought me along to my first meeting and, again, I thought it was a wonderful service. Leslie-May had people in to talk about aftercare treatment, how to deal with different problems, advice on wigs and hair and so on. When people are vulnerable and low and struggling to fight back, this is the sort of support they need.
A
s Leslie-May got to know Mike and myself very well over time, she approached us one day about running a charity ball at the Haven Hotel, from which we would later form the Dorset Cancer Care Foundation.
Mike and I were delighted to get involved in organising this event with a core group that also included our new friend Eve, Sandy Cooke, who had also been through cancer treatment, and our friend Gill Emeny.
That first charity ball was a great night of fun as well as raising over £30,000 for cancer care, which was beyond everyone’s expectations. We had an auction at the event where guests put in very generous bids. I volunteered a group from Lord of the Dance to perform a showpiece as part of the entertainment. Barry Owen and The Main Attraction were our band for the night and they filled the dance floor. The whole evening was a roaring success.
Leslie-May was so thrilled with the outcome that a seed was sown in her mind, and she later approached us about setting up a cancer foundation. My husband Mike, Pam Jeffries, Sandy Cooke and Eve Went then set about getting it started. Mike did all the paper- and legal work to secure the charitable status – and Dorset Cancer Care Foundation was eventually born.
Today, Dorset Cancer Care Foundation has charity events running every other week to raise funds, and the work that it does is invaluable to the people who benefit from it. All the money is used in a practical way to help cancer sufferers in Dorset. This includes transport to hospitals for patients who are in need of that service; babysitting and other back-up support for spouses; as well as the various day-to-day living costs that people might not otherwise be able to afford.
Dorset Cancer Care Foundation has been an opportunity for Mike and me to give back because, despite what we went through, we both appreciate our good fortune.
‘Life is a combination of high points and low points, and you can’t go through life without the low points,’ Mike said in an interview.
‘In my life, my divorce was a low point for me. But a lower point for me was Marie’s cancer. We came through that together and we ended up much stronger.
‘As a result of having done that, my life since then completely changed. In gratitude for Marie surviving her cancer, I became totally devoted to my work with the cancer charity in Dorset.’
As Mike says, ‘It’s not everybody who gets the chance to give back. We are happy and blessed to be able to do it.’
And that is the reason we also set up The Marie Duffy Foundation.
The Foundation
Irish dancing has been so good to me in life.
All through my life I was one of those lucky people who had the blessing of living to work, rather than being forced to take on employment that would give me no satisfaction other than putting food on the table and paying the mortgage. Instead, I had a job that I Ioved and, believe me, I always appreciated that privilege.
As old age started knocking on my door, I began thinking about giving back for all the good things in life that I had experienced through Irish dancing.
I had discussed this with my husband, Mike, one time when we were putting our affairs in order and doing our wills.
Mike, as always, was supportive and agreed that it was a very good idea. We talked about doing something for Irish dancing, but we didn’t immediately set anything in motion.
Then cancer came into my life. Coming towards the end of the treatments, Mike and I were discussing how lucky I was to be seeing a positive outcome, despite the aggressive cancer having been discovered at an advanced stage.
Mike again raised our wish to give back in some way. And he came up with the idea of setting up The Marie Duffy Foundation.
It was Mike’s brainchild, and he stressed: ‘Okay, let’s do it now and not wait until you are six feet under.’
Once I gave Mike the go-ahead, he didn’t waste a moment.
Mike is a very decisive and, as I said, a very organised sort of person. He did all the spade work himself to get it off the ground, wading through the red tape, sorting out the legal side and getting it registered and approved for charitable status.
Then we set up a Board of Trustees. I proposed my friend, James McCutcheon from Scotland, as the chairman. Our friendship had grown and blossomed through Irish dancing. And, of course, he was a rock of support to me while I was battling through my cancer treatment. I also knew that when James takes anything on he gives it his full commitment. When we contacted him, James said he would be honoured to accept the position as chairman.
One of our close English friends, Eben Foggitt, a former barrister who has also worked in the British film and TV world, had no hesitation in coming on board when we extended the invitation to him.
The third person we approached to become a trustee was my nephew Len McLaughlin, who gave me away at my wedding. So, with Mike and myself, we had our five trustees.
We were also delighted when Niamh Flatley agreed to come on board as patron of The Marie Duffy Foundation. Niamh was always totally committed to everything she did through Irish dancing and I knew that she would be a great ambassador for the Foundation, and generous with her time whenever she was called upon to attend functions.
Mike and I then made a commitment to make personal yearly donations over five years to provide the Foundation with a strong financial footing, but the long-term plan is to implement fundraising activities to ensure its viability.
The initial idea behind the Foundation was to help young, aspiring dancers who didn’t have the resources to follow their dream. I wanted to provide a practical back-up for those young people to achieve their ambitions through Irish culture in all of its forms.
To help us select appropriate beneficiaries of the funds, we decided to set up an Awards Selection Panel, consisting of the five trustees and its members: Sean McDonagh, Francis Curley, Terence Gillan and Myra Watters.
We were also looking for new, innovative ideas to support, so we encouraged people to apply to the Foundation by advertising through the Irish dance schools, dance magazines and on the internet.
The first focus of the Foundation in 2011 was on musicians and composers in Irish music. James McCutcheon and I came up with the idea of inviting musicians who play for all the well-known championships, or majors as we call them, to compose a tune that An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (CLRG) would recognise and put on their official list.
CLRG have a list of particular set dances that have been there since time began. While we want to keep our tradition going, we also felt it would be worthwhile adding to it. Our thinking was that anything new we do now will be tradition to the people who are around in another fifty years.
We got an excellent response to our call-out for the competition that was billed as Excellence in Irish Dance Music Composition, and then the next stage was choosing the winning tune from the selection that came in.
The Foundation had set up ties with the University of Limerick, so we had the final there in front of a live audience at a gala evening with a panel of respected judges that included James McLoughlin, Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin, Niall Keegan, Richard Griffin and Sylvan Kelly.
The unanimous winner was a young man from Glenarm, Co. Antrim, called Francis Ward, with his beautiful jig set dance music composition, ‘The Vanishing Lake’.
That tune was added to the CLRG list of set dances on 1 June 2012, and is now one of the most frequently played in competitions.
It has put Francis on the map.
Francis says he drew his inspiration for the music from the legend of Loughareema (Loch an Rith Amach), or the Vanishing Lake as it is known, which lies close to Ballycastle, Co. Antrim, at the north-east tip of Ireland. It’s a small lake that seems to disappear and reappear at random. The road to Ballycastle runs right through it, though the modern road sits high enough to avoid flooding.
According to legend, on the afternoon of 30 September 1898, a man called Colonel John Magee McNeille was travelling to Ballycastle, driven by a coachman in a covered wagon pulled by two horses. The road disappeared into the waters of the flooded l
ake as McNeille and his driver arrived at the spot, but they took the decision to wade though it. Halfway across, the horses began to get nervous as the freezing cold water reached their bellies. One of the horses reared up on its back legs and turned to the side before slipping off the road and into deeper water. The other horse had no choice but to follow, and then the carriage sank, drowning the colonel and his coachman as well as the horses.
Francis says that ever since that fateful day many people have reported seeing a phantom carriage pulled by two horses and ridden by a military man on the lonely shores of Loughareema.
His composition, ‘The Vanishing Lake’, remembers the Phantom horseman of Loughareema.
* * *
When ‘The Vanishing Lake’ was accepted by An Coimisiún, we ran a competition for dancers over the age of sixteen to create new choreography for that music. We gave the competitors lots of scope and a free hand, inviting them to come up with a freestyle piece and suitable costumes if they were going to do it show-style. It didn’t have to adhere to strict competitive CLRG rules.
The crème de la crème of dancers participated in that event which was held in the City West Hotel, Dublin, at the end of the All-Ireland competitions in 2012.
The winner was a young guy called Cathal Keaney from the Celine Hession School of Dancing in Galway. Cathal went on to join Lord of the Dance and is now one of the new Lords.
‘The Vanishing Lake set dancing competition was one of the highlights of my dancing career and I really enjoyed the whole experience,’ Cathal wrote later.
‘As a dancer who makes up all my own steps, this was an opportunity to be creative while competing against other senior dancers.
‘I felt amazing when I was called out as the winner as I was not expecting it. Winning the competition has helped my confidence in competitive dancing and encouraged me to push myself harder and develop more intricate steps.’
The Foundation also funded Irish language scholarships that same year for two young people, Cathal O’Braonain and Niamh Nic Mhathuna.
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