For months, Susan Schmidt thought she was simply tired — the kind of exhaustion that comes from juggling motherhood, work, and life’s everyday chaos. She was 47, a physiotherapist, a mother of two, and by all accounts, healthy. So when her body began to slow down, she didn’t panic. She blamed stress. Hormones. Maybe early menopause.
What she didn’t know was that her body was quietly fighting a war she couldn’t see — one that would soon threaten her life.
In September 2023, after months of subtle and confusing symptoms, Susan was diagnosed with stage 4 bowel cancer. The words fell like stone. Metastasized. Incurable. And yet, in the face of unimaginable fear, she did something extraordinary — she turned her diagnosis into a mission to save others.
“I Didn’t Talk About My Bowel Habits — Who Does?”
Bowel cancer is a silent predator, and Susan’s story reveals just how insidious it can be. It doesn’t always announce itself with blood, pain, or obvious warning signs. Sometimes, it starts with something as deceptively simple as fatigue.
“It began with this relentless tiredness,” she told Daily Mail Australia. “I’d drive my daughter to rowing at 5 a.m., and on the way home, I’d have to pull over and nap for forty minutes in the car. That’s not normal. That was the first sign.”
But like so many women, she brushed it off. Life was busy. She was getting older. “I thought it was menopause,” she admitted. “I didn’t think anything of it.”
Four months later, her symptoms grew worse. Constipation. Cramping. Bloating. Still, nothing dramatic enough to raise alarm — until one night, on a trip to France, everything changed.
“It Was Worse Than Childbirth”
While attending a friend’s wedding abroad, Susan found herself battling constipation for the first time in her life. “I blamed the rich food, too much cheese, too much indulgence,” she recalled. But when she returned home to Brisbane, her body began to scream.
“I ended up on the bathroom floor in absolute agony,” she said. “Vomiting, diarrhea, unbearable pain — it lasted for eight hours. I thought it was food poisoning from my horse’s feed or salmonella. It was worse than childbirth. I was crawling into the shower, trying to relieve the pain with heat.”
Doctors initially dismissed her symptoms. Her blood work was clean. Her stool tests normal. There was no reason to suspect anything serious — until a colonoscopy revealed the truth.
“When I woke up, the nurse said the gastroenterologist would come in to see me,” she said softly. “That’s when I knew. He told me he had found a tumor.”
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
A CT scan and MRI confirmed the nightmare: rectal cancer that had already spread — to her uterus, pelvic lymph nodes, and right lung. It was stage 4, incurable.
“The goal now is to stay well for as long as I can,” she said. “I’ll probably resume chemotherapy after my next overseas trip.”
Despite the devastating news, Susan refused to let fear define her. Instead, she turned her heartbreak into purpose.
Turning Pain Into Power
Susan founded The Floozie Foundation, an organization dedicated to supporting adult cancer patients and their families in Australian hospitals. Named after a cheeky nickname from her younger years, the foundation aims to bring laughter, warmth, and dignity to those enduring the harsh realities of treatment.
“Cancer can strip away everything — your energy, your comfort, your sense of control,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to take away your hope.”
Through her foundation and social media presence, Susan now speaks openly about topics many still find taboo — bowel health, screening, and the importance of listening to your body.
“I didn’t talk about my bowel habits,” she said. “Who does? But that’s part of the problem. We don’t talk about it — not until it’s too late.”
A Message That Could Save Lives
Doctors have long warned that bowel cancer is often preventable if detected early. But stigma, embarrassment, and a tendency to dismiss subtle changes often lead to late diagnoses, particularly in women.
Susan’s story is a painful reminder that even the smallest shift — fatigue, constipation, loss of appetite, persistent bloating — can be the body’s first cry for help.
“Even if your blood work is normal, even if they say it’s stress or hormones, push for answers,” she urged. “Listen to your instincts.”
Today, as she undergoes rounds of chemotherapy, she continues to post hopeful messages and updates on her foundation’s work. Her courage is both heartbreaking and inspiring.
“I want to live long enough to see my children grow up,” she said. “But I also want people to know that it can happen to anyone — and that catching it early can save your life.”
As she faces her illness with grace, humor, and defiance, Susan Schmidt’s voice carries beyond her diagnosis.
Because sometimes, it’s the softest warnings that echo the loudest:
Don’t ignore the whispers — they might be your body’s only cry for help.
