Non-Smoker Had Double Lung Transplant After Cancer Diagnosis (Exclusive)

Natalie Brown had a cough that wouldn’t go away. The 33-year-old non-smoker was shocked to be diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. “Anybody can get lung cancer,” she says. “It doesn’t matter if you smoke or not.” A year ago, she had a double lung transplant as part of Northwestern’s  DREAM program, which performs transplants on patients with terminal lung cancer.

“Both her lungs were full of cancer,” says Ankit Bharat, chief of thoracic surgery and executive director of the Northwestern Medicine Canning Thoracic Institute. “Natalie had a few weeks to live — if not days.” The transplant went well, he says, but soon after, Natalie’s back started hurting. Doctors discovered the cancer was in her spine. Despite this, her transplant surgeon is “quite optimistic” and says there are “a lot of options to continue to help her.”

Now 38 and living in Atlanta, Natalie is continuing chemo, sharing her story, and mentoring other lung cancer patients, urging them not to give up. “I’m not ready to die yet. There are still things I want to do.”

She shares her story with PEOPLE’s Wendy Grossman Kantor.

It was December 2019 when I started having bronchial spasms.  I went to urgent care and they said, “You’re going to be fine.” About a month later, I developed a really bad cough. It would not go away. My primary care doctor said, “Oh, it’s just your asthma.”

But it continued to get worse. I started getting really fatigued. I thought I was tired because I was working out twice a day, lifting weights and taking strength training classes. I was drinking Red Bulls and coffee, but I couldn’t keep up. My doctor said it might be allergies.

In the spring, I was referred to a pulmonologist who did an X-ray and said, “Something is not right.” After a lung biopsy, my doctor called and said, “We still don’t know what it is, but the good news is it’s not cancer.”

I’m thinking, “If it’s not cancer, I can handle anything else.”

A week later, I had shortness of breath. My chest was extra tight. I knew something was wrong. I went to the emergency room, and they said my lung had collapsed. I stayed in the hospital for a week; it was terrifying. They told me, “We didn’t get enough tissue during the first biopsy, so we need to do another one.”

The second biopsy was in May 2020. When I woke up, my husband, Torrance Brown, had tears in his eyes.

A doctor came in and said, “I am pretty confident that you have cancer.”

I had just turned 33.

I had my first appointment with an oncologist on July 1, 2020. She told me I had stage 4 lung cancer, and it was in both my lungs and lymph nodes.

When she said “stage four,” I passed out. I was literally out. I think whatever was in me just left for a minute and then it came back. The first question I asked her was, “Am I going to die?” She didn’t really answer the question. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no.

My body was there, but my soul had left the building. I said, “Can we start chemo today?” And she said, “No, it doesn’t work like that.”

She did biomarker testing, but I do not have any targetable mutations, meaning I didn’t qualify for any targeted medications, so I had to be on chemo and immunotherapy. I started treatment on August 1, 2020. I did have some shrinkage, which I thought was great. It stayed stable for a while.

The doctor told me that the goal was to treat, because we could not cure.

My husband, now 53, has always been extremely positive.  Whenever I said, “I’m going to die.”  He’s always said, “No, you’re not. We’re going to fight this.” He’s always been Positive Patty. I have not. I am now, but I wasn’t positive back then.

After being on chemo for about a year, I knew how to deal with the side effects. I was still working in software sales. I would put on a bunch of makeup for Zoom meetings, and afterward, I would fall straight to the floor and nap for two hours. Then I’d jump back onto a meeting.

In 2022, I asked my doctor, “Can we drop the chemotherapy and can I just get on immunotherapy?” I was told it would make me feel better and improve my quality of life. She agreed. I did immunotherapy for a little over a year, and I was living my life. We were traveling almost every month. We went to Turks and Caicos, San Diego, Calif., — we even visited my best friend who lives in Nassau.

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In August 2023, we noticed the treatment wasn’t really working anymore. My cough was getting worse. I downloaded a cough-tracker app, and found I was coughing between 200 and 300 times an hour.

I cracked my ribs coughing. I kept going to the emergency room. I went back on chemo right before Thanksgiving 2023 but it wasn’t working. In January 2024, I joined a clinical trial near my home in Atlanta. No success.

Then I joined a clinical trial in Nashville at Sarah Cannon Cancer Institute. I travelled back and forth from Atlanta to Nashville for about six or seven weeks. No success.

My cough was out of control and I was miserable. I was running out of options. I asked my pulmonologist, “Is there anything you can do to help me?”

She said I was a good candidate for a double lung transplant. She said I would have to move to Chicago for a year. I sent my medical records, then spoke to a surgeon at Northwestern Medical in Chicago. He basically said, “Your lungs are trash.”

I said, “Okay, let’s do this.” After a few weeks of testing, I relocated to Chicago. Six days later, I got the call: They had found lungs for me.

I had the double lung transplant on November 15, 2024.

Recovery was terrible. I was in the hospital for two weeks. My pain was really, really bad.

But right after the surgery, they said, “The cancer is gone. We have no reason to think you have any active cells.”

Three months after surgery, my lower back started hurting really bad.  I was like, “Something’s not right.”

I requested we do a scan — and boom, the cancer is in my spine.

I was so mad at first. I was like, “Are you serious? I just went through this surgery and now I have cancer again?”

I was angry at the world. My first thought was, “This whole surgery was just a complete waste.” I asked the surgeons and I asked the team, “How did this come about? What do you guys think happened?” They said it’s possible that it was already there. It could have been hiding.

I was told I have four lesions in my spine.

My husband, once again, Positive Patty, made me look at the bright side. He said my quality of life is still better. He reminded me that before the transplant, I had asthma, but now I don’t. Before, my lungs were only functioning at about 3 percent, whereas now, my lungs are functioning at almost a hundred percent. I no longer have a cough. I’ve been doing 20,000 steps a day and not getting tired. I can’t tell you the last time I had a nap.

I had to stay in Chicago for a year post-transplant. I moved home to Atlanta and plan to continue my care at Piedmont Atlanta Hospital and Winship Cancer Institute of Emory University.

I am on chemo again. I know this is going to sound crazy, but this is the best chemo I’ve ever had.

I feel pretty much like normal; they tell me it’s a very tolerable, manageable chemo. I have had radiation twice this year for my spine. I’m getting more scans at the end of the month. This isn’t over.

Right now, I’m focused on sharing my story on Instagram and at conferences. When you’re stage four, surgery is really not supposed to be an option. I’m trying to let people know that with stage four lung cancer, there is still some hope. Stage four does not necessarily mean a death sentence.

Look at me: I’ve been getting my butt whooped for five years, but I am still here.

In September, the oncologist said one of my lesions grew a little bit. I started crying, and I’m like, “Oh my gosh, here we go.” I cried that day. I had ice cream, pizza, cookies, all of the bad things. I sat in it. Then my husband said, “We need to keep moving.”

My oncologist and I had already had a conversation: “If this chemo stops working, what chemo do we have lined up next?” I’m always thinking ahead, planning — because it’s cancer and you never know what’s going to happen.

I want to share my story and let people know that there’s hope. There’s still hope. Please, try not to give up.

A GoFundMe has been created to support Natalie and her family.