Hannah Neilon
I met Sheila when I was eight years old. She lived down the street from me up until I moved away for college and then subsequent jobs. She will always be one of my best friends - like a second mom, cool aunt, and big sister all rolled into one. Growing up, we did arts and crafts and worked on school projects together. She got me my first wallet when I got my driver's license. She did my makeup for middle school dances and high school prom. In the summers we drove to the beach in her aptly named bright green Honda Element (Grinchy) and foraged for the prettiest shells. She always had the best Halloween costume in the neighborhood (my personal favorite being a mummy wrapped in toilet paper) and the spookiest decor. As I grew older and the pandemic progressed, visits became catch ups on the porch (sometimes masked) over coffee or cocktails.
Sheila spent over the last year of her life confined mostly to a hospital bed. Even there, she was cracking up hospital staff with her jokes and swear word coloring books. Everyone who had a chance to encounter Sheila wishes her journey with CF had ended differently. I was able to visit her shortly before and got to say a what I didn't know at the time was goodbye. We are approaching a year without her, and every time I go on a PNW adventure or see a squirrel, I am inclined to send her a photo and have to stop myself.
Last October, I ran Marine Corps Marathon with the hope that one day Sheila would breathe easily and that my future visits home would consist of new adventures with her. Unfortunately, that won't pan out how I envisioned, but I think of her daily and see little pieces of her everywhere. My new hope is that the money I continue to fundraise through my running journey will make at least a small impact in someone else's battle with CF.
Every person born with cystic fibrosis is on a unique journey and experiences this challenging disease differently. While progress has been made, a long road lies ahead. Please consider a donation as I embark on Chicago for Sheila.
Sheila spent over the last year of her life confined mostly to a hospital bed. Even there, she was cracking up hospital staff with her jokes and swear word coloring books. Everyone who had a chance to encounter Sheila wishes her journey with CF had ended differently. I was able to visit her shortly before and got to say a what I didn't know at the time was goodbye. We are approaching a year without her, and every time I go on a PNW adventure or see a squirrel, I am inclined to send her a photo and have to stop myself.
Last October, I ran Marine Corps Marathon with the hope that one day Sheila would breathe easily and that my future visits home would consist of new adventures with her. Unfortunately, that won't pan out how I envisioned, but I think of her daily and see little pieces of her everywhere. My new hope is that the money I continue to fundraise through my running journey will make at least a small impact in someone else's battle with CF.
Every person born with cystic fibrosis is on a unique journey and experiences this challenging disease differently. While progress has been made, a long road lies ahead. Please consider a donation as I embark on Chicago for Sheila.
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