My name is Nicole Kohr. I am a 29-year-old cystic fibrosis (CF) patient, a bilateral lung transplant recipient, and a Make-A-Wish alumni.  
 
I was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, a genetic disease that primarily affects your lungs and digestive system, when I was five years old. I had back-to-back respiratory infections since birth. My bowel movements were painful and infrequent, and my sweat left salty residue on my skin.  
 
The fact that I weighed 25 pounds at age 5 should have been reason enough to suspect something broader than asthma was at work. Unfortunately, CF was still a mystery to most in 1997, and the pipeline of treatments consisted of only one medication with one on the way. My mixed race played a part in my misdiagnoses as cystic fibrosis was primarily seen in Irish people. However, my mother is Irish, and she’s the one who dragged me from doctor to doctor begging for a diagnosis of some kind. The final delay stemmed from my neurodivergent symptoms. I’ve always suffered from generalized anxiety, so my lack of eye contact and social skills outweighed my fact that my chest was caved in. Looking back, my misdiagnoses were inexcusable. 
 
After my sweat test came back overwhelmingly positive, doctors told my mother that I did indeed have CF, and that I wouldn’t live to see 10 years old. She and I chose to ignore this deadline and live as if I wasn’t terminal. However, this bittersweet diagnosis meant that I was eligible for a Make-A-Wish.  
 
I was introduced to the Make-A-Wish Foundation when I was ten. My mother escorted the consultant into our living room, and I was immediately comforted by their gentle nature and passion.  
 
She and I talked about my likes, my hobbies, and my dreams. I had been enrolled in theater classes since age six, so most of my likes stemmed from the performing arts world. My wishes, however, were never for me.  
 
“Can you give my mom’s room a makeover, or give her money to pay off bills?” I’d ask, racking my brain for ideas.  
 
My consultant had the tricky task of tweaking my wishes. “These are all great ideas, honey, but the wish should be for you!” 
 
I was the only child of a single mother, and I was spoiled rotten by my overwhelmingly supportive family. What did I need a wish for? My death date shouldn’t earn me a wish, especially because I don’t identify as a person who is dying. I felt like the family who cared for me was more deserving.  
 
My consultant and I went back and forth for years. She and her colleague would check in annually to ensure my needs were being met. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school that I received a different kind of message: 
 
“Your Make-A-Wish is due to expire!” 
 
I panicked. I was now 18 and identified as a chronically ill person way more than I did at age ten. I’d endured over 100 IV antibiotic treatments throughout my school career. I was absent more often than not, battling back-to-back infections and antibiotic resistance. I was tired, frustrated, and finally felt deserving of a wish.  
 
I reflected on my original meeting with Make-A-Wish, the one where I had aged into my death date. It sparked an idea: 
 
“What about a birthday party?” I asked. “A huge sweet 18 that all of my friends and family can enjoy?” 

Bingo! The team spent months collecting information about my dream birthday party including venue, food, and theme. I wanted my party to take place at a local venue. I didn’t want to travel far in case I became unwell. I wanted the theme to be purple drama. The purple was my little nod to the cystic fibrosis foundation for all their research, and I wanted the food to be backyard barbecue style.  
 
They granted these wishes and more. My wish team booked a local venue called the Palace and it’s just as grand as the name. The coolest DJ was playing my favorite tunes as I entered the hall. 6-foot-tall purple feathers filled the room. Drama masks of all sizes decorated the cake and the tables. A purple carpet (stylized as a red carpet like Hollywood) was the perfect setting for pictures, and the buffet of food left everyone drooling. I even had a small drawer for my medication hidden under my side of the table. It was the perfect night.  
 
I can never thank the Make-A-Wish Foundation enough for their generosity and their passion. Not only did they grant my wish, they gave me something that I didn’t know I needed - a night of normalcy. For once, I wasn’t 18 going on 80. I was just 18, and that spark of hope propelled me through the next decade of my journey with CF. 
 
I have upkept the tradition of celebrating my birthdays, lovingly called my “annual tenth birthdays.” This concept is seen throughout my original musical, “Fall Risk,” an in-development dramedy. Read more about it at fallriskthemusical.com. This past year, 50 of my closest cystic fibrosis friends helped me host my Annual Tenth Birthday on YouTube. You can view the video here.  
 
Please take this time to like, follow, and share all of the amazing work that the Make-A-Wish Foundation has done for patients like me. Because recipients receive more than a trip to Disney or a birthday party. We receive a spark of hope that changes everything.