Dancing for Those Who Can't

Last night I participated in the first (hopefully annual) Students About Life Saving, or SALS, Thon. I couldn’t tell you what my favorite part of the night was. Could it have been meeting Joe McDonough, founder of The B+ Foundation? Was it getting called up on stage as the number two individual fundraiser and crying in front of about 700 people I don’t know? Was it that 30 minute period of dancing to specifically all those random throw back songs or losing my voice screaming along with Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”? While all of those events were highlights, I would have to say that my favorite part of the night was when I got called over by a couple of the Salesianum guys. They asked me if I wanted to go on stage with them and hold up one of the digits to reveal the final amount of money raised. 

In all honesty, I cannot describe to you the atmosphere of the gym from 9pm on Saturday night until 5:30 the next morning. Over 600 students came together to support a cause much bigger than all of them. They came for kids like Andrew McDonough and Mason. They came not only because of the hope of it being an indescribably amazing time (it was), but they also knew what SALS Thon was doing for B+ and each of the 46 children diagnosed each day along with their families. We came together to dance for the kids who can’t.

I don’t know about all of the other kids, but I was pretty hopped up on caffeinated drinks because I knew I couldn’t fall asleep. I knew I could not sit down once between 9pm and 5:30am. Andrew Szczerba, a Sallies and Penn State grad and new Atlanta Falcon, was one of the speakers that opened the night. He had the honor of participating in Penn State’s Thon, and he told us something about him that hit close to home with me. He talked about the three bracelets he wears on his left wrist and never takes off. One is from his little niece, the other is a Live Like Andrew bracelet from B+, and the last is for his uncle who was killed in the line of duty. He said that whenever he was dancing and he felt tired at Thon, or even on a regular day when he felt that life was rough, he would look down at his wrist to see these bracelets. They encourage him to carry on and be strong. These bracelets, just like my own, encouraged him to continue to dance for those who can’t.

So I didn’t sit down and I tried my best to only rest when completely necessary. Come 5:30, my body was hurting. Whenever I became aware of the soreness my body was starting to feel, I looked down at my bracelets. The physical pain of pushing my body past its limits with all of this physical activity would inevitably fade and fade pretty fast. How does a child diagnosed with cancer feel? Their emotional, spiritual, physical and mental pain does not fade quickly, if it even does at all. It takes time, patience, and trust in the community and doctors to make that pain go away. What a child with cancer and their family go through every day with various treatments and doctors’ visits and all of that is more than anyone can comprehend. My decision to stay awake for more than 24 hours and dance is nothing in comparison. I chose to stay awake like all of the other kids who participated in this event because when I thought of my brother, I knew he’d make fun of me endlessly (and probably be a little disappointed in me too) if I had sat down. I stayed awake; we stayed awake because we were dancing for those who can’t.

After our mass at 5:30, we were free to go. On the drive home and throughout today, I couldn’t help but be on the verge of tears when I thought about the undoubtedly legendary event that I was just a part of. I can’t help but be so extremely grateful to all of those who put this event on, especially the Sallies guys. You boys know who you are, so please also know that you’re now on my (extensive and rapidly growing) list of heroes. Mason, of course, is at the top of this list, and though I know you had the idea of Thon long before Mason was diagnosed, I can’t help but think that a huge part of this was for him. 

You guys started fundraising in late February. It hasn’t even been a month since the donation site opened. You had the ambitious goal of raising $46,000 for the 46 kids diagnosed with cancer each day, and because of your ambition, I knew I could respect all of you from Day 1. I can now tell all of you readers that at 5 o’clock this morning, I had the honor of holding up a sign with the number 3 on it. I held this sign up with the main guys responsible for the entire event, and together, our signs revealed to everyone that we collectively raised $73,532.35. Yes. Over $73,000 dollars was raised for the B+ Foundation, for families affected by childhood cancer, and for research to help find a cure. That money is thanks to everyone reading this blog who donated, all of the companies who donated prizes and food, all of the students who registered and donated time. We couldn’t have done it without all of the support. Together, we raised $73,532.35 for the kids who we honor and respect, the kids who can’t dance.

I hope that SALS Thon will be an annual thing. I hope that everyone in attendance this year will set a precedent that the Thons to follow will greatly surpass. I hope that more and more people can be a part of such a huge movement that will undeniably change the lives of many, many families. I know that my hopes can become realities because I know and have faith that kids will want to keep dancing; they will want to dance for those who can’t in hopes that one day soon, they can.