In 2023, Susan Schmidt received the kind of news that stops time. At 47, the mother of two and professional physiotherapist was told she had Stage 4 bowel cancer. It was a diagnosis that arrived not with a bang, but after months of subtle, easily dismissed whispers from her body—warnings she now desperately hopes others will not ignore. Today, Schmidt is staring down an incurable illness with a clear-eyed mission: to shatter the social taboos surrounding bowel health and to ensure that “embarrassment” never again costs a parent their life.
The Silent Predator
Bowel cancer, or colorectal cancer, is a formidable enemy precisely because it is a master of disguise. While early detection dramatically shifts the survival rate in a patient’s favor, the symptoms are often frustratingly vague—mistaken for the stresses of modern life, dietary choices, or, in Schmidt’s case, the onset of menopause.
“I didn’t talk about my bowel habits—who does?” Schmidt said in a candid interview with the Daily Mail. “That’s part of the problem with bowel cancer. People don’t raise the alarm early enough.”
It is this exact silence that allows the disease to progress. From chronic fatigue to a slight shift in bathroom habits, the warning signs are frequently brushed aside as minor inconveniences rather than the red flags they truly are.
Four Months of Missed Signals
For Schmidt, the first sign was an overwhelming, bone-deep exhaustion that began roughly four months before her world collapsed. As a physiotherapist, she was used to being active, yet she found herself unable to complete a simple 15-minute drive without stopping for a nap.
“I’d drive my daughter to her rowing practice, then have to stop on the way home and nap for 40 minutes,” she recalled. “That’s not normal. That was a warning sign, but I brushed it off.”
Then came a trip to France for a friend’s wedding. When constipation set in for the first time in her life, she reached for a logical, albeit incorrect, explanation: the rich French cheese and the indulgence of travel.
It wasn’t until she returned to Brisbane that the “silent” symptoms turned deafening. Schmidt found herself collapsed on her bathroom floor in a state of physical crisis—vomiting, experiencing severe diarrhea, and enduring pain she describes as “worse than childbirth.”
“I was crawling into the shower, trying to relieve the pain with heat. It was a nine out of ten on the pain scale,” she said. Initially, she suspected salmonella from her horse, never imagining the true source of the agony.
The Fight for a Diagnosis
Perhaps the most harrowing part of Schmidt’s journey was the initial difficulty in getting a clear answer. Despite the severity of her pain, her blood and stool tests returned normal results. Doctors suggested her issues might stem from stress, diet, or hormonal shifts.
But Schmidt knew her body. She pushed for a colonoscopy, the gold standard for detecting colorectal issues. When she woke from the procedure, the atmosphere in the room had shifted. There was no post-op snack, only the heavy silence of a nurse informing her the gastroenterologist would be in shortly.
The news was devastating: a tumor was found. Subsequent CT and MRI scans confirmed the worst—the cancer had metastasized, spreading to her uterus, pelvic lymph nodes, and her right lung. At Stage 4, the cancer was no longer considered curable.
Living with “Incurable”
Receiving a terminal diagnosis is a psychological crossroads. Schmidt chose the path of pragmatic courage.
“The diagnosis is incurable,” she told the Daily Mail. “The goal now is to stay well for as long as I can.”
Her life is now a balance of high-stakes medical management and a desperate grab for quality time. While chemotherapy is a grueling constant, she schedules it around the moments that matter, like overseas travel and family milestones. For Schmidt, the focus has shifted from the pursuit of a cure to the pursuit of life itself.
The Floozie Foundation: A Legacy of Action
Schmidt has refused to let her diagnosis be the end of her story. Recognizing the emotional and practical vacuum that exists in adult cancer wards, she founded The Floozie Foundation.
The organization provides tangible support and advocacy for cancer patients across Australia, helping them navigate the often-isolating experience of long hospital stays and aggressive treatments. By being open about her own journey, Schmidt is effectively stripping the stigma away from “toilet talk,” encouraging a culture where checking your bowel health is as routine as checking your blood pressure.
A Mother’s Final Plea
As she continues to balance the demands of motherhood with the rigors of Stage 4 treatment, Schmidt’s message to the public remains unwavering: Advocate for yourself.
“Push for answers if something feels off,” she urges. “Even if your blood work is normal, even if they say it’s stress or hormones, listen to your body.”
Her story is a stark reminder that while the medical system is a vital tool, the patient’s instinct is the first line of defense. Through her Instagram updates and public appearances, she has built a community that finds strength in her transparency.
Susan Schmidt’s journey is heartrending, but her legacy is already being written in the lives of those who, because of her warning, might catch their own diagnosis in time. She remains a beacon of resilience—a reminder that even when a disease is incurable, a life can still be lived with profound purpose.
