I initially started this blog to document my cancer journey, thinking it would have a clear beginning and end. Spoiler alert: cancer had other plans. When we found out my cancer had already metastasized and...
Give a gift of hope
I am deeply grateful for any support you can provide—it truly means the world to me. As a terminally ill single mom to two energetic kids and a rambunctious Jack Russell, life is incredibly challenging....
In the news
I’m a natural sharer, and I’m always ready to speak out about the challenges I face as a cancer patient. Below is a collection of interviews and media pieces where I’ve used my story to...
My Story
Life After ‘The Words’: Creating Memories February 2019. A routine shower. My fingers found something that shouldn’t be there—a lump in my breast. Four weeks of tests later, sitting across from my doctor, I heard...
My blog
I initially started this blog to document my cancer journey, thinking it would have a clear beginning and end. Spoiler alert: cancer had other plans. When we found out my cancer had already metastasized and would stick with me for life (literally), this blog became so much more. Now, it’s a space where I share almost everything—from the side effects of treatment to advocating for better cancer care and increased research funding, and even my random musings. It’s a way for friends, family, fellow cancer patients, and caregivers to stay in the loop about how I’m doing and how I’m using my voice to make life just a little bit better for those touched by cancer.
Yes, it shows my vulnerability, but I also try to keep things real with a touch of humour—because, let’s face it, telling people you have cancer (let alone terminal cancer) can be the ultimate conversation killer. I hope my posts take away some of the awkwardness that comes with being an “expert cancer maker.”
If you think someone could benefit from this blog, feel free to share the link! To make sure you don’t miss any new posts, you can sign up to follow my blog, and you’ll get email notifications whenever I post something new. Don’t worry—while palliative treatments aren’t exactly a paying gig, I promise never to sell your email to the highest bidder. It’s strictly for blog updates.
PS: if you enjoy what you read and want to show your support, feel free to buy me a coffee. Your kindness and encouragement mean the world to me—plus, caffeine always helps!
Give a gift of hope
I am deeply grateful for any support you can provide—it truly means the world to me. As a terminally ill single mom to two energetic kids and a rambunctious Jack Russell, life is incredibly challenging. Balancing life-threatening health issues while trying to make ends meet on a fixed disability income has been nothing short of overwhelming. Your generosity isn’t just a helping hand; it’s a lifeline that keeps us going.
Here’s how you can make a difference in our day-to-day lives:
Fuel my mornings: A little coffee and a treat make a huge difference. My favorite pick-me-up from the local coffee shop is around $10—and trust me, the world is a better place when I’m caffeinated!
Fuel my car: With $20 a week, you’re not just putting gas in my tank—you’re helping me get to critical medical appointments and cancer treatments.
Fuel my family: Feeding two rapidly growing kids (who eat like they’re preparing for the NFL!) costs about $200 a week. Your help keeps us nourished and strong.
Fuel my fight: Life-saving medications that aren’t covered by insurance cost a staggering $400–$500 a month. Every contribution helps ease this burden and keeps me in the fight.
If you’d prefer to help with gift cards instead, I do most of our grocery shopping at Real Canadian Superstore, and I rely on Amazon Canada for clothing and household essentials.
Thank you for being part of helping my kids and I turn my lemons into lemonade.
In the news
I’m a natural sharer, and I’m always ready to speak out about the challenges I face as a cancer patient. Below is a collection of interviews and media pieces where I’ve used my story to advocate for better cancer care and increased research funding. It may be too late for me, but by shining light on these critical issues, we can help ensure others won’t have to endure the same fate.
Tomlinson, J. (2024, February 14). “Younger and younger”: Radiologist calls for updated cancer screening. Retrieved from Global News
CBC News: The National. Ontario to lower age for regular breast cancer screenings to 40 [Video file]. (2023, October 30). Retrieved from CBC News – The National’s YouTube Channel
CBC News: The National. Breast cancer screenings should start at 40, medical task force says [Video file]. (2023, May 9). Retrieved from CBC News – The National’s YouTube Channel
Since I’m unable to work, I’ve found purpose and joy in using my story to help improve cancer care and advocate for research that could change lives. If you believe my efforts are making a difference, and you’d like to show your support, feel free to send a small token of appreciation—it truly means a lot. 💛
About 15 months ago, a subtle but profound shift occurred. Beyond the life-altering cancer diagnosis in 2019, a quieter, more unexpected change took root. Music, …
Living with metastatic breast cancer feels like walking a tightrope, quarter to quarter, between scans. It’s a constant balancing act of living in the moment …
Inspirational. Fascinating. Engaging. That’s how I would describe my experience from Thursday through Saturday. The Terry Fox Research Institute brought together 139 passionate individuals from …
I am reaching out regarding your recent communication to Canadian cancer patients about the discontinuation of your IBRANCE co-pay program. While I am not personally …
My Story
Life After ‘The Words’: Creating Memories
February 2019. A routine shower. My fingers found something that shouldn’t be there—a lump in my breast. Four weeks of tests later, sitting across from my doctor, I heard three words that split my life into “before” and “after”: “You have cancer.”
At that moment, I thought there had to be a mistake. I was healthy, strong, competing for Team Canada’s snowboarding team. I had never smoked, ate well, lived fully. My life was beautifully complicated—an incredible husband, two young children, two dogs, a new VP position, teaching at university, and halfway through my Masters at HEC Paris. I had everything to live for.
But cancer doesn’t read résumés, check fitness levels, or care about your age.
My oncologist delivered the reality: I have triple-positive breast cancer, one of the more aggressive types. Then came the words that changed everything: “Your breast cancer has spread to your bones.”
Stage 4. Metastatic. Incurable. Terminal.
Natalie Kwadrans, 2019
The statistics were stark—I had a 22% (now 23%) chance of seeing 2024. Most people with my diagnosis live 2 to 3 years. My estimated “expiry date” fell somewhere between February 2021 and February 2022.
But here I am, defying those odds, because of advancements in cancer research.
Life as a terminal cancer patient has been brutal—five months of aggressive chemo, mastectomy, radiation, daily hormone therapy. Combined with my pre-existing narcolepsy, I was bedridden for months. And then the cancer kept progressing—to my hip, my lungs, more lymph nodes. Radiation to the hip. But when it returned, it was too aggressive, so I underwent a full hip replacement surgery. More radiation. Another progression. New hormone therapy. Another progression. Emergency abdominal arthroplasty. Now on chemo for life. More radiation. More appointments.
This is the relentless dance I face as a terminal cancer patient, an endless cycle of treatments and progressions. I continue to meet each new challenge head-on, determined to make the most of the time I have left.
And here’s what I’ve learned: while I can’t control my diagnosis, I can control how I respond to it.
I’ve been handed some pretty rotten lemons, but I’m determined to make something beautiful with them. I refuse to let cancer steal the precious time I have left with my family. Every day is a choice to focus on what I can control—love, laughter, memories, and moments that matter.
This blog is my way of turning pain into purpose, fear into fight, and statistics into stories of hope.
Join me as I navigate this unexpected chapter, creating memories and proving that sometimes the most powerful thing you can say to cancer is simply: “Not today.”
Cancer can suck my lemons—I’m too busy making lemonade.
While my focus remains on cherishing precious moments with my family, the financial toll of this battle is immense. Between mounting medical expenses, the inability to work full-time, and a deep desire to provide my children with meaningful experiences and memories, I could use your support.
If you’ve found inspiration in my story and feel compelled to contribute towards helping to ease this burden, you can send me a gift by clicking here. Every donation, no matter the size, will make a profound difference as I navigate through my uncertain life.
Thank you for walking alongside me. Together, we can ensure I make the absolute most of the time I have left.
