George Had a Plan ... Until He Didn't

What happens when your body stops asking and starts demanding?

In this episode, George shares the raw story of spending four days in the hospital after ignoring warning signs for days. What started as abdominal pain he tried to walk off became a forced reckoning with self-care, control, and a question that still haunts him: Why don't you think you're worth it?

The Setup

It was Thursday night, Friday morning. George woke up with a stabbing pain in his lower left abdomen. He tried to get comfortable. Rolled left. Rolled right. Laid on his back. Nothing helped.

Friday morning, he had a rheumatoid arthritis appointment anyway. So he got up, got dressed, drove himself there. The whole time thinking: Do I have to poop? Am I constipated?

He stopped at the drugstore on the way home. Bought two bottles of that liquid stuff. Took one. Worked through half of Friday. Then at 2 PM, after finishing a meeting, he did something he never does.

He canceled the rest of his day, looked at his wife, and said: I'm going to bed.

Rubbing Dirt On It

Friday night, Saturday morning. New symptom. Massive chest pain. He couldn't take a deep breath without excruciating pain. Now he had abdominal pain and chest pain. He was on bottle number two of the "do I need to poop" remedy.

His wife asked if he was okay. His daughters asked if they should take him to the hospital.

His answer: "No. Let me rub some dirt on it and walk it off. It'll be okay. Just give me a second."

Then came Sunday. Mother's Day. George wasn't going to ruin Mother's Day. So he hopped up. Acted fine. Took Kelly out for TopGolf.

"I didn't try anything. I did it. I went and I did TopGolf, but I was feeling like crap."

As soon as they got home, back upstairs, back to bed.

Monday morning, he tried again. New week. Let's give this a shot. He drove to Smoothie King. And realized that just getting ready and driving there had left him completely spent.

He texted his wife: Are you awake yet?

Her response: I am now.

His reply: Great. I'm getting a smoothie. When I get home, I want you to take me to the hospital.

The Moment Everything Changed

At the hospital, they took his blood pressure. He has high blood pressure. Takes medication for it. His reading came back 100 over 61. Way too low.

All of a sudden, there was a "we have cardiac blah blah blah" announcement. People came running. Hooking him up to machines. Pulling him to the back.

The nurse said: We're probably going to have to admit you at least overnight.

George isn't an overly emotional guy. But he got teary-eyed. He looked at his wife and said: "I guess I shoulda came on Saturday."

Every time he'd told his wife and daughters he was fine and just needed a minute came flooding back. Every instance of "man up, throw some dirt on it, work through it" crashed into him at once.

"I felt just so stupid for not just making the immediate decision for my self-care through healthcare and to just go get checked out."

Surrendering Control

George describes the mental journey that happened once he was admitted.

At first, there was remorse. Regret. Frustration. Maybe even anger. Why is my body doing this?

Then fear. How am I going to make it through this? Are my clients going to get upset? Is the team going to be able to cover? Nobody really knows what's going on. I can't tell anybody what's going on because I don't know what's going on.

Then he hit a wall with himself.

"Dude, shut the f up. You are in the hospital. Your body needs help. People are trying to figure out what's going on. How about you just silence all the noise and sit here and take it for what it is."

Once he flipped that switch, something unexpected happened. It got peaceful. Calm. He was no longer in control. He was in a place where if anything happened, people could take care of him. Nothing else mattered.

"It actually ended up being something that was highly stressful at the beginning, but actually really relaxing towards the middle to end of my hospital stay."

The morphine probably helped. But so did letting go.

Letting Humans Do What Humans Do

On the business side, George expected stress. He got the opposite.

He watched his wife and daughter handle cancellations. He never reached out to Liz or Jorge or anyone else on the team to ask for help. But he could tell from emails Kelly read to him that people were being taken care of.

"People were being taken care of past my expectations. And what's really weird is people were being taken care of past what I thought even people had the understanding of doing."

He didn't Slack. He didn't text. He was probably the most silent he'd been in years.

One of his daughters came to visit and mentioned she hadn't published anything on social media because it would feel weird to continue like normal while he was in the hospital. George's reaction: "That's some smart shit right there."

Nobody had coordinated that. Liz had the same instinct. The team understood what "it's all about the humans" actually means when tested.

"From the healthcare part of it, let go, let God. But from the owning a business side, it was like let go, let humans. Just let humans do what humans are gonna do and let the humans try to do and be the best they can be."

The Diagnosis

Once George got past the fact that he didn't actually have to poop, the doctors explained what was happening.

Background: Five years ago, George was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. It affects joints, causes pain, requires medication. The underlying issue is inflammation. His body attacks itself.

What happened this time: The inflammation decided to attack new territory. There are flaps in the colon that got inflamed. That was the abdominal pain. And there's a sac of fluid around your heart and lungs. It filled with inflammation. That was the chest pain and difficulty breathing.

George actually giggled when he heard this. Because he already knew what he was supposed to be doing for inflammation. He'd been hell-bent on it when first diagnosed. Walking. Watching what he ate. Then he got lazy. Relied on medications to keep him out of pain. Stopped the walking. Started enjoying burgers and pizza. Things that cause inflammation.

"If I wouldn't have stopped that, I don't know if I would have ended up here."

The diagnosis gave him back some control. He immediately started researching. Inflammation-suppressing diets. Gut health. Probiotics. Fermented foods. Kombucha.

"I had some fear because of my historical high blood pressure. Is this my ticker? Is this a heart thing? That fear was able to go away because now I knew it was inflammation."

Knowing what it is creates a plan of attack. Now he has three follow-up appointments with different doctors. He's going to talk to them about diet changes and what it might mean for his medications.

Previously Held Beliefs: Challenged

George describes the George who went in versus the George who came out.

Before: He felt like he had no space. He wasn't doing the education he enjoys. Wasn't walking like he used to. Everything felt tight. He had freedom as a business owner but no breathing room.

After: He wrote on his whiteboard: "Build the life you want to live." But now he added something. Leave space for the things you still enjoy. Create the space.

Before: He'd fallen prey to modern medicine. Relied on medications instead of actively managing his health through diet and exercise.

After: Those things need to become non-negotiables. Not "almost non-negotiables." That's weak-ass language. Actual non-negotiables.

"You are going to watch what you put in your mouth because you do have this thing called inflammation that likes to just attack different parts of your body. I'm not excited to find out what other pain feels like if another piece of my body got inflamed. I don't need to experiment."

The walking needs to happen too. It helps breathing. Weight loss. Activity. Mental state. These aren't optional anymore.

Four Days That Taught Comfort With Stillness

Something else shifted during those four days. George learned how to be comfortable not doing anything.

"I didn't have a choice. But I think that sure, there's work to be done, but there's also five days to do it."

This connects to something Liz shared at the top of the episode. Her highlight from the weekend was finally having nothing to do. She went to a bookstore, sat in a leather chair, and read for a few hours.

It was simultaneously her lowlight. Because she'd never felt so much anxiety.

"If I'm feeling anxious when I have just a few hours of rest to myself, that means I'm not resting. Which makes me wonder, how close am I to burnout?"

She froze. Had to meditate her way out of it. Kept thinking: Who am I letting down? What am I forgetting? There's no possible way I have time to rest.

George and Liz both realized they'd been enabling each other. How many weekends in a row had they said "I'll be around if you need anything"? They'd transformed into people working at least partially seven days a week.

"If I don't have space to rest, if I've put my body in a place where I can't even breathe, if I am living a life with excruciating pain whether it be emotional, physical, spiritual, it's going to be impossible to climb that mountain or reach that destination."

Everybody Has a Plan Until They Get Punched in the Face

Liz asked George to finish the sentence: "It doesn't matter how much you plan..."

His first answer: "...if you're broke down on the side of the road." You could have planned the greatest journey, the greatest day. Flat tire, blown transmission, whatever. You ain't heading in no direction.

His second answer came from Mike Tyson: "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face."

Monday morning was that punch. George had his whole week planned. Meetings. Two sales calls for potential new clients. Rock and roll.

"Punched in the face, broke down on the side of the road, whatever analogy you want to use. None of that shit mattered. Immediately, none of it mattered."

The lesson: You can plan all you want. But if you don't put in the safeguards, if you don't make sure you're giving yourself the love and self-care and exercise to actually mobilize that plan, it's going to fall apart.

And when it does? Make a new plan. Iterate from where you're at. That's the superpower.

The Question That Still Haunts Him

At the end of the episode, Liz asked George what questions he found himself asking during this experience. The ones he wants listeners to ask themselves.

Why am I so hard-headed? Why am I so stubborn?

Why do you continually ignore what is right in front of your face?

Why do you expect it to just be okay when you're not actively doing something to make it better?

If you have the knowledge, why don't you have a plan? And if you have a plan, why aren't you executing it?

Then came the question that stopped him cold.

"Why don't you think you're worth all of that? And I don't have an answer for that. And that actually kind of scares me right now."

Why didn't he think for the last year or two that he was worth the plan? Worth the education? Worth the execution to keep himself away from spending four days in the hospital?

"Why don't you think you're worth it? Because you are."

Quotable Moments

"I felt just so stupid for not just making the immediate decision for my self-care through healthcare and to just go get checked out."

"Dude, shut the f up. You are in the hospital. Your body needs help. How about you just silence all the noise and sit here and take it for what it is."

"From the healthcare part of it, let go, let God. But from the owning a business side, it was like let go, let humans."

"If I don't have space to rest, if I've put my body in a place where I can't even breathe, it's going to be impossible to climb that mountain or reach that destination."

"Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face." — Mike Tyson

"Why don't you think you're worth it? Because you are."

Your One Thing

George's takeaway: Create the space. Build the life you want to live, but leave room for the things that keep you healthy and whole. Watch what you put in your body. Move. These aren't suggestions. They're non-negotiables. And if you're on this journey trying to become 1% better each day, realize you're worth every piece of education, every plan, every execution.

Liz's takeaway: If you feel anxious when you finally have time to rest, that's a signal. Not a sign that something's wrong with the moment. A sign that something's wrong with how you've been operating. When rest feels like guilt, you've crossed a line you didn't notice crossing.

Reflection Questions

1. What warning signs is your body giving you right now that you're choosing to ignore or explain away?
2. If you ended up in the hospital tomorrow, would the people around you know what to do? Would you trust them to handle it?
3. What knowledge do you already have about your health that you're not acting on? What's stopping you from executing the plan?
4. When was the last time you had genuine rest without anxiety or guilt? What does that tell you?
5. Why don't you think you're worth it? And what would change if you decided you were?

Ready to go deeper? Press play above and hear George walk through the full story. This isn't a polished lesson from someone who's figured it all out. It's a real-time reckoning with self-care, control, and the question that matters most: Do you believe you're worth fighting for?

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