Hour -1:
I signed up for DemonTHON because the rest of my sorority sisters were doing it. I know, sort of lame. But it is a good cause, after all. In a more real sense, I knew it was the right thing to do. My big sister in my sorority has an actual biological sister named Michelle that’s the same age as me. Funny how that worked out! Anyway, Michelle is a miracle child. If she’s half as amazing as her older sister, then I could stand a few cold nights and early mornings canning for the cause. Anything FTK (for the kids) after all. To offer any monetary support to any of these families is worth a few hours of my time to fundraise. How hard can standing on your feet for 24 hours actually be? ((JK. JK. I anticpate it will be very difficult. Let’s see how it goes.))
Look at how happy I am! ((Notice, I am sitting and not yet aware of what I am actually getting myself into.))
Hour 0:
If I die, it is learning this morale dance.
Oops. Looks like I figured out how physically tolling it was to be a Miracle Maker
Hour 2.5:
Crap. My feet already hurt.
Like anything, DemonTHON had it’s ups and it’s downs. The beginning of the theme hours was definitely an up!
Hour 3:
If I’m practically driving the struggle bus at hour 3, how am I supposed to finish off another 21? But, Sean’s dad just told his story. If a cute boy is reading this, I’m totally cool and felt the apropriate amount of emotion. If I’m being honest, I cried a little and I’m not even emotional from exhaustion yet. Sean’s family is like mine: 3 to 1. He’s one of three boys and has one sister. My family is the opposite, but I still connect to that family dynamic more than anything else. Something I didn’t realize: medical advancement is made possible because of dance marathons. I know that sounds dumb, but they always explained that the money I raise could give a kid an iPad or two kids birthday presents. They never explained, like Sean’s dad did, that if things like DemonTHON didn’t exist that survival stats would be much more stagnant. I know it sounds dumb, but I guess I figured they used “better” money for important things like that.
There was also sass. That’s not a symptom of DemonTHON, but who I am as a person.
Hour 4:
My feet are officially numb and I can sort of understand making it for twenty more hours. But, like, maybe. I’m starting to fully understand why I’m here. One of the dads asked everyone to raise their hand if they knew a child who has/had cancer. It was intimidating to be in a room of peers who had shared in that experience. Well, maybe intimating isn’t the proper word. But its all I can come up with when all of the blood is in my feet. Something else that same dad made me realize is that you don’t have to necessarily be treated at Lurie’s to be a miracle child. If your life itself is a feat of modern medicine, you are a miracle child. That fact made me realize how many loved ones I owe to dance marathons just like this. That, right now, is my reason to dance.
Hour 6:
You know when you’re a little tipsy you would practically fight someone that Cheesie’s is the most delicious food in the world? Well, at 6 hours on my feet I feel about the same way.
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I waited as long as I could to put on slippers. I will never be as happy as I was during the shoe change ever again in my entire life.
Hour 8:
I got through my first “dark hour” ((when only DemonTHON dancers are there)) and it is appropriately named. Right now, honestly peer pressure is keeping me here. I don’t want to let down my team, but I did already raise the money for the kids. I know that’s not the point, but that’s why I’m dancing. Right now, at least. I keep counting down the hours until 11am when our miracle child, Michelle, will come here.
I had to commemorate the waffles and my Amy Poehler earrings. (Where are all of my Parks and Recs fans?))
Hour 12:
I cannot even begin to fathom that we are only halfway done. This may turn out to be the longest day of my entire life.
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Hour 16:
Unfortunately, hour sixteen would become my last hour at DemonTHON. Something I ate gave me a horrible stomach reaction. If I could have finished out those last nine hours, I would have. But, God’s plan, for whatever reason, did not involve me finishing the 24 hour dance marathon this year. But, the important part was that this community that I was apart of, if only for 16 hours, will change lives with the money raised. It will save lives. It will make life livable and possible and even pleasant. And that’s a beautiful thing.
We forget amongst the excitment that standing on your feet for 24 hours and hitting all of those morale dance moves is a physical feat as well. It isn’t normal and it is painful. As much as we think that nothing we feel is comparable to the pain of the kids, we have to remember that we are students first. And it’s okay to tap out if it becomes too much. Just by merely showing up at DemonTHON–every single person in the room is a Miracle Maker and nothing can change that.
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