NiCole's Notes

Nicole Zeller

NiCole's Notes: The study guide for adulting. Witty, rigorous analysis of everything that matters: politics, love, illness, friendship, technology, aging, and the contradictions we live with. Sarcastic scholarship for the thinking Gen-X mind.   Smart when it matters and Witty always.  A graduate from the University of Calgary, B.A. Political Science '95, B.A.Spanish '08, born with cystic fibrosis, a lung disease that has been trying to kill me since birth. Hanging on to life by the horns with only 26% lung function. I have 20+ years of experience building organizations and understanding how systems actually work.  Founder of the Summit Foundation for Cystic Fibrosis, raising 3.5+ million dollars for local research, Philanthropist of the year for Alberta in 2014, Honoured with the naming of a research lab at the Cumming School of Medicine, Snyder Institute for Chronic Diseases, at the University of Calgary in 2013. Featured in a documentary about my journey with CF and being a CrossFit athlete, while owning my own gym in 2018. I have been a part of a 350 million dollar fundraising campaign and had a 50' banner of my mug hanging off the Foothills Hospital for 4 years from 2003-2007.  Currently finishing two programs at the University of Calgary, one in Graphic Design (graduating June 15, 2026) and the other in Integrated Digital Media (graduating May 2027), my friends would consider me the Sassy Smurf out of the group.  I may have been given a cactus, but I don't have to sit on it.

  1. 2d ago

    The Village That Kept Me Alive

    Send us Fan Mail Your parents are 17 and 18. You're four years old. You have a terminal illness. The doctors just told them you probably won't make it to first grade. Now what? This is the story of what happens when a village decides that's unacceptable. My parents were young and unprepared for parenthood, let alone parenthood of a child with cystic fibrosis. So they needed parenting, too. That's where Granni and Poppa came in — living within blocks, sometimes just houses between us, surrogate parents who literally held the foundation together. Granni taught me how to bake, how to cook, how to clean, how to recycle, and how to save water for laundry. Granni had afternoon tea rituals with very specific rules: milk goes in first, always warm the teapot with boiling water before you make the pot. These weren't just tea times. They were rituals about showing up. They were about a grandmother loving her granddaughter enough to teach her something useless and beautiful. Poppa was like the Godfather — all knowing, all powerful, this presence that commanded respect without demanding it. Every Sunday after mass, Poppa would take the entire family to Dairy Queen for sundaes. It was sacred. It held us together. Poppa was the rock that anchored everything. My uncle was the one who teased me relentlessly, who made me laugh when nothing was funny, who treated me like just another person worth messing with instead of a sick kid to be pitied. That banter saved me. My cousins Denise and Debbie tormented me with pranks — they convinced me a pirate lived under the bed and would grab my leg if I wasn't careful. I still have a thing about pirates under my bed. Doug was mentally challenged but could throw a ball farther than anyone I've ever seen, and I was in awe of him. I took him under my wing, and we had real adventures together. And then there was Neil, my brother, 15 months younger, who had to live in my shadow, who had to follow me in school, who had a complicated relationship with being the healthy sibling in a family consumed with my illness. We fought. We protected each other. We would take a bullet for each other. But none of them compared to Sleepy. Sleepy is a brown, fuzzy dog the size of a medium-sized book who was given to me for my first sinus surgery at age five. He has droopy, cute eyes. He got an ID tag like I did when I was admitted to the hospital. He went into surgery with me. He was never not with me. He was my only true unconditional friend — the one being who never pushed crap down my throat or beat me up or demanded anything except love. I still have him. He's 50 years old. He's my rock. This village didn't save me through pity or martyrdom. They saved me by loving me fiercely, by teaching me to make tea the right way, by taking me for Dairy Queen sundaes, by teasing me relentlessly, by being present, and by refusing to treat a sick child like she was broken. They made me fierce.

    The Village That Kept Me Alive
  2. 4d ago

    The Miracle Problem: Living After You Planned to Die

    Send us Fan Mail Hi, I'm Nicki Zeller. Welcome to Nicole's Notes, where I try to find clear thinking about the messiest things. I'm about to tell you a story that spans 50 years. It's a story about being told, at age four, that you probably won't make it to first grade. It's a story about a village that decided you were worth keeping alive anyway. It's a story about learning to hide a disease so well that the world forgot you were sick. It's a story about losing everything — your weight, your identity, your future — and thinking you were done. And then it's a story about getting a miracle drug that was supposed to fix everything. Except it broke me in ways I never expected. This season is the archive. This is the before. This is the 50 years I spent preparing to die, building a life I never thought I'd get to live, and learning what it means to survive when survival is supposed to kill you. I was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis in 1976 when I was four years old. The doctors told my parents not to expect me to make it to first grade. I made it to 54. I made it to a career. I made it to a foundation that raised $340 million. I made it to having a lab named after me. I made it to marriage.  I made it to climbing mountains on 40 percent lung function. I made it to being a public face of hope while privately wondering if I was going to make it to tomorrow. And through all of that, I never knew a future was coming. Not until the drug worked. This is the story of how I learned to hide. How I learned to perform. How I learned to be fierce. How I learned to survive. Starting with a four-year-old angry girl who had no idea that she was about to become the foundation for everything that came after.

    The Miracle Problem: Living After You Planned to Die

About

NiCole's Notes: The study guide for adulting. Witty, rigorous analysis of everything that matters: politics, love, illness, friendship, technology, aging, and the contradictions we live with. Sarcastic scholarship for the thinking Gen-X mind.   Smart when it matters and Witty always.  A graduate from the University of Calgary, B.A. Political Science '95, B.A.Spanish '08, born with cystic fibrosis, a lung disease that has been trying to kill me since birth. Hanging on to life by the horns with only 26% lung function. I have 20+ years of experience building organizations and understanding how systems actually work.  Founder of the Summit Foundation for Cystic Fibrosis, raising 3.5+ million dollars for local research, Philanthropist of the year for Alberta in 2014, Honoured with the naming of a research lab at the Cumming School of Medicine, Snyder Institute for Chronic Diseases, at the University of Calgary in 2013. Featured in a documentary about my journey with CF and being a CrossFit athlete, while owning my own gym in 2018. I have been a part of a 350 million dollar fundraising campaign and had a 50' banner of my mug hanging off the Foothills Hospital for 4 years from 2003-2007.  Currently finishing two programs at the University of Calgary, one in Graphic Design (graduating June 15, 2026) and the other in Integrated Digital Media (graduating May 2027), my friends would consider me the Sassy Smurf out of the group.  I may have been given a cactus, but I don't have to sit on it.