Women are the rock and foundation of everything around them
While her husband became the first Canadian to orbit the Moon, Dr. Catherine Hansen — a Western Medicine graduate — was watching from Earth, holding the weight of history and love in equal measure. Her own journey, from sole OB/GYN in rural Alberta to Chief Medical Officer of a national menopause care network, traces a parallel arc of quiet, grounded ambition. Together, the Hansens embody a particular kind of partnership — one where extraordinary achievement and everyday devotion are not opposites, but the same thing seen from different altitudes.
- Six silent minutes during Artemis II's ocean descent — signal lost, parachutes unseen — became the most frightening moment of Catherine Hansen's life.
- Across decades, Catherine absorbed the compounding pressures of solo hospital coverage, three children born within eighteen months, and a spouse whose career kept pulling the family across continents.
- A flood of predatory misinformation targeting midlife women pushed Catherine to redirect her expertise — building Effica Health as a credible, evidence-based alternative to the wellness industry's false promises.
- Effica Health now operates in Alberta and Ontario, with a national expansion underway, aiming to reach the women most overlooked at the moment they most need support.
- Each morning, the Hansens anchor themselves with coffee, meditation, and a shared intention — contribution and joy — treating emotional equilibrium as a practice, not a given.
Dr. Catherine Hansen watched from Earth as rocket engines ignited beneath her husband Jeremy, carrying him 400,000 kilometers away to become the first Canadian astronaut to orbit the Moon aboard Artemis II. The launch was terrifying and joyful at once. The splashdown six days later was harder — six minutes of lost signal, a silent ocean, and a prayer. When the parachutes filled and the capsule hit the water intact, she exhaled. He was home.
Catherine's own trajectory had been no less demanding. A 1996 graduate of Western's Schulich School of Medicine, she trained in obstetrics and gynecology at McMaster, studied international women's health in Africa, and eventually became the sole OB/GYN at a hospital in Cold Lake, Alberta — on call around the clock while Jeremy flew fighter jets and their three children arrived within eighteen months of each other. High-risk pregnancies meant emergency flights to Edmonton in the middle of the night.
When Jeremy joined NASA's astronaut corps, the family relocated to Houston, where Catherine spent a decade teaching and practicing at the University of Texas Medical Branch. But something troubled her: midlife women were being targeted by unproven, overpriced solutions as their bodies changed, and the misinformation was relentless. She chose a different path.
Today she is Chief Medical Officer at Effica Health, a growing clinic network delivering guideline-based menopause and midlife care across Alberta and Ontario, with national expansion planned. She sees midlife women as the foundation of everything around them — at the peak of their influence, yet often feeling their worst precisely when they need to feel their best.
She and Jeremy protect their joy deliberately. Coffee most mornings, meditation, a shared commitment to contribute and find meaning in the work. They know they cannot sustain it alone. When they drift, they find their way back together — to what they call the joy train — and climb back on.
Dr. Catherine Hansen was watching from Earth when her husband's rocket engines ignited on the launchpad, carrying him 400,000 kilometers away. Jeremy Hansen, after seventeen years of training at NASA, was about to become the first Canadian astronaut to orbit the Moon aboard Artemis II. Catherine described the launch as terrifying and joyful at once—a moment when decades of work and childhood dreams finally lifted off the ground.
The splashdown six days later was harder. During those six minutes when the spacecraft lost signal on its way down, Catherine prayed. She had already watched him launch successfully, already heard his voice from space, already felt the weight of what it meant for their family and for Canada. But the ocean landing was the moment that would bring him home or not. "That was the scariest day of my life," she said. When the parachutes filled and the capsule hit the water intact, it was over. He was safe.
Catherine Hansen graduated from Western's Schulich School of Medicine & Dentistry in 1996, then moved through a career that took her across continents and into the lives of women at their most vulnerable. After residency in obstetrics and gynecology at McMaster, she spent time in Africa studying international women's health. She worked locums in small Ontario towns—St. Thomas, Owen Sound—before following Jeremy to Cold Lake, Alberta, where she became the sole OB/GYN at the local hospital. For eight years, she was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, while Jeremy flew as a fighter pilot and their three children were born within eighteen months of each other. High-risk pregnancies meant fixed-wing flights to Edmonton, hours away.
When Jeremy was recruited to NASA's astronaut corps, the family moved to Houston. Catherine spent a decade as an assistant clinical professor at the University of Texas Medical Branch, teaching residents, conducting research, and practicing medicine. But she noticed something that troubled her: midlife women were being targeted by people selling unproven solutions at inflated prices, desperate for answers as their bodies changed. The misinformation was relentless. She decided her life's work would be different.
Today, Catherine is Chief Medical Officer at Effica Health, a clinic network focused on menopause and midlife care. It operates in Alberta and Ontario now, with plans to expand across Canada. Every treatment is guideline-based, credible, approved by Health Canada. She describes midlife women as the foundation of everything around them—at the peak of their careers, supporting families and communities—yet often feeling their worst when they need to feel their best. Proper care at that moment, she believes, sends ripples outward into the world.
She and Jeremy have learned to protect their joy deliberately. They wake up each morning with one goal: contribute their best, use their skills for good, find the joy in it. They drink coffee together most mornings, virtually when apart, and meditate. They remind each other what matters. "We don't have joy all the time," Catherine said. "But that is the ultimate place we aim to get back to." When they slip off what Jeremy calls the joy train, they climb back on together. They cannot do it alone.
As Effica Health expands across Canada, Catherine will be reaching women who have been overlooked, underserved, and sold false hope. Her husband orbited the Moon. She is building something closer to home—a network of care for women in the middle of their lives, grounded in evidence and humanity.
Citas Notables
That was the scariest day of my life— Dr. Catherine Hansen, on the Artemis II splashdown
When we get off the joy train, we try to get back as soon as we can—and we can't do those things in isolation, we need each other— Dr. Hansen, paraphrasing her husband Jeremy's approach to maintaining balance
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you watched the launch, did you feel like you were watching his dream or your family's dream?
Both, I think. He's been working toward this since childhood, but we all made sacrifices to get here. Our kids grew up with a father who was training, traveling, preparing. I was running a hospital department alone in rural Alberta while he was away. So when those engines lit, it was the culmination of something we all built together.
You've spent your career in places where women had very few options—rural Alberta, small Ontario towns. Do you see that same scarcity in midlife care now?
Absolutely. But it's different. Women have access to information, but so much of it is wrong. They're confused and scared, and there are people ready to exploit that. I wanted to create something credible, something they could trust.
The splashdown was the scariest day of your life. Did that change how you think about risk?
It made me understand that some things are worth the risk. Jeremy's work matters. Our work matters. But you can't live in fear. You have to find your joy and protect it, even when things are uncertain.
You talk about morning coffee and meditation as practices. That sounds almost simple compared to your lives.
It is simple. That's the point. When everything is chaos—his training, my clinics, the public attention—you need something that grounds you. Face-to-face connection. Setting intentions. Reminding each other what we're actually doing this for.
What do you hope women see when they look at you and your work?
That they don't have to choose between ambition and care. That midlife isn't a crisis to survive—it's a stage of life that deserves proper attention. And that showing up as your whole self, imperfect and all, is actually what connects us to each other.