Julie was born October 2, 1963.  By the age of seven a cluster of café-au-lait spots appeared on her neck. Seemingly harmless, they soon were followed by neuro-fibromas, or bumps, on her skin. After careful examination by a medical professional, it was determined both the spots and subsequent bumps were physical characteristics of a little-known disease called Neurofibromatosis (NF).

It was about this time that I came into the world. Because of the difference in our ages Julie assumed a role as my second mother. And did she ever act the part. If not for the outward and visible signs of NF, I wouldn't have known any better that my sister was suffering from a potentially disabling disease. Together Julie and I spent years experiencing the joys that only a sibling rivalry can bring.
 
In light of her diagnosis, Julie did not despair. Each day she hit the ground running, making the most of what God gave her and sharing it with those close to her. She graduated from high school and landed a job at the National Bureau of Standards. Then in 1985, as she was getting ready for work, Julie blacked out. A battery of tests uncovered a benign brain tumor that was removed successfully and followed by weekly radiation treatments.

She bounced back in a big way, marrying Charles Thomas (Tom) Cashour in 1986. For me, their relationship epitomized what a marriage should be: Two best friends working toward a shared dream. Julie and Tom spent their free time antiquing, visiting craft and car shows, gardening, and socializing with family and friends. The highlight of Julie's summer was a well-earned, annual vacation in Ocean City, Maryland, relaxing on the beach by day and hitting the dance floor by night. Her ultimate dream was to one day retire to her very own beach house.

Then in 1995 Julie began to experience pain and numbness in her left arm and hand. The culprit: A tumor had attached itself to the nerves in her shoulder and was causing bouts of temporary paralysis. Upon its removal the surgeons were amazed that such a large mass caused no subsequent permanent paralysis. Julie appeared to be more resilient than ever before.

Julie and Tom had always wanted a family but the odds that their children would inherit NF were too great a risk. Additionally, the medications necessary to control Julie's seizures were proven to cause profound birth defects in the womb. So in 1998 Julie and Tom began the adoption process. It wasn't until November of 1999 when they reached the final stages and were anxiously awaiting agency approval. Unfortunately, another seizure made the decision for them.

Once again a series of tests indicated Julie had another brain tumor. She underwent surgery and then was sent home for Christmas. Spending that Christmas day with Julie and my family always will remain one of my most cherished memories. With great difficulty she was learning to walk and to use her left arm again but she was not discouraged.  Several days later Julie was readmitted to the hospital suffering from severe headaches. We were told she was terminally ill and we were devastated.  As Julie became less and less aware of her surroundings the decision was made to pursue additional surgery. We remained determined and hopeful while all possibilities were explored.

Julie would have a second brain surgery in less than two months and again she came through it like a champ. Recovery and physical therapy began almost immediately. She was walking on her own and even baking cookies while in the hospital.  Julie and Tom celebrated a bittersweet Valentine's Day in her hospital room. Soon thereafter she was sent home to continue her physical therapy and begin radiation treatments.

After enduring four weeks of treatments Julie became physically overwhelmed. An MRI revealed that the Grade IV gleoblastoma was back with a vengeance. It was growing too quickly to treat with radiation and Julie was too weak to undergo surgery a third time. And to our dismay, a new, smaller tumor was growing at the base of her skull.

On May 16, 2000, at 8:20 p.m., Julie Ann Robertson Cashour passed away peace-fully in the presence of her family and friends. Although it was the most difficult thing any of us had ever witnessed, it was also the most comforting, because we knew that Julie was now with God and she was no longer suffering the physical and emotional pain of Neurofibromatosis.

Julie continues to touch the lives of those who knew her, especially mine. Until the last year of her life I took so much of what I had for granted.  It's amazing all there is to appreciate in the form of family and friends.  But most importantly Julie's death instilled in me a renewed faith. Throughout her ordeal I learned to pray.  In the beginning I simply prayed for an explanation for what was happening. God never pulled up a chair and had that chat with me, but he did give me strength and resolve.  And a new purpose: To continue Julie's courageous battle by making others aware of Neurofibromatosis while raising money to support the search for a cure.

Somewhere I read that life is not about what you have while you're here, but more about what you leave behind you when you're gone. Julie's gift to me was the desire to fight. The Julie Ann Robertson Cashour Memorial Fund is the best way I know of to honor her life and continue her fight with NF.

The generosity of friends, family, business associates and acquaintances continues to amaze us. For that we are eternally grateful. The unending support for the Julie Ann Robertson Cashour Memorial Golf Tournament is a credit this community. I wish that I could somehow express my gratitude to each and every one of you.

God Bless,
Jeff Robertson