Episode 431 - The Three Words You Never Want to Hear - 2012 Blog Post #1 of My Colon Cancer Journey

Hi, everybody.

Welcome to a very special series of episodes on The Real Estate Sessions Podcast. It's March, and that means it's Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month.And I like to make sure that everyone who listens to the podcast understands the importance of getting screened. I know it saved my life, and it can save your life or the life of your loved ones.I'm taking a different angle with the nine blog posts that I put out on Jay Thompson's Phoenix Real Estate guy back in 2012 and 2013, and doing a little analysis on what was going through my head when I was doing some of the things I was doing and writing back in those times.So this is going to be episode one, and obviously over the next nine weeks, I'm going to run the rest of the episodes as well with the same sort of analysis. And ideally, this could help people who are going through that same process today.

Oh, welcome to today's Deep Dive, everyone. And I should probably say right at the start, this one is actually custom-tailored for a very special listener.

Yeah. A very specific audience of one today.

Exactly. Bill, we are talking directly to you today.

We are.

As the host of the Real Estate Sessions podcast. You're usually, you know, you're the one in the driver's seat.

You're the one asking the question.

Yeah. You're behind the microphone, setting the pace, pulling all those fascinating stories out of your guests.But for this deep dive, we are completely flipping the script. We are turning the spotlight entirely onto

you, which is probably a little weird to hear.

Oh, I'm sure it is. But specifically, we are looking at a deeply personal piece that you shared on the Phoenix Real Estate Guy blog.And I have to say right up front, this is not your standard industry update.

No, not at all. It's not about housing markets or escrow timelines.

Not even close.

And the mission for our deep dive today is to really examine the events you laid out in that post. We're going to walk through the exact timeline of you receiving a life altering medical diagnosis.

Yeah.

But more than just recounting what happened, we want to break down the psychological mechanics of your response, because it was incredibly pragmatic.

Highly pragmatic.

Right. And we're also going to amplify the core of your message. You know, that urgent life saving call to action you issued to your entire community.It's just this compelling look at how a person processes sudden, massive adversity.

It really is. And to set the stage for just how universal this experience actually is, we have to look at a striking Statistic you highlighted in your piece.

Yeah, the American Cancer Society data.

Exactly. When you do the math on those annual figures, it breaks down to this. Every single day, 4552 people hear the exact same three words.

It's cancer.

It is cancer.Over four and a half thousand people every single day just going about their normal lives and suddenly they have the ground drop out from underneath them.

It's staggering when you put it as a daily figure.

It really is. And today we are exploring Wednesday, August 22, the exact day that you, Bill, became one of those 4552 people.And we're going to look at how you immediately flip the script on that news.

That daily statistic is incredibly grounding. I mean, it takes this massive abstract medical concept and distills it down into a daily human reality.

Yeah.

Thousands of people are forced to navigate this exact crisis every day, yet we rarely to see the real time processing of it. Your story gives us a blueprint for how one might actually absorb that kind of shock.

Okay, let's unpack this from the very beginning because the context leading up to this is something I know almost everyone listening can relate to.

Oh, absolutely.

You had turned 50 the previous year and we all know what 50 means.

The dreaded milestone.

Right. It's that milestone age where a colonoscopy officially lands on the medical to do list. But like so many of us, you had been putting it off.

You pushed it down the road.

You pushed it down the road until your annual physical rolled around and your doctor, Dr. D, essentially chided you for avoiding it. He didn't just, you know, casually suggest it again.

He literally handed you the referrals right then and there.

Right there in the office. So you picked one and you booked the exam for the very first day of your upcoming vacation.

What's fascinating here is the psychology behind that initial reluctance.

Yeah.

It is such a common human behavior. You had heard all the infamous horror stories surrounding the prep work for the procedure. And this is a critical barrier in preventative medicine.

It really is the prep that scares people.

Exactly. We often allow the anticipation of short term temporary discomfort to override our logical understanding of long term health risks.We build up the preparation in our minds until the sheer dread of it becomes this massive psychological hurdle and it leads to dangerous delays, potentially very dangerous delays in care.

Oh, absolutely. I think everyone has heard a horror story about the prep. It's legendary for being awful. But here is where it gets really interesting.You completely demystify the process by sharing exactly how it went down for you.

Because you bypassed the chalky drinks.

Yes, you bypassed those dreaded chalky drinks that everyone complains about, and instead you went with Osmo Prep pills the day before the appointment.

32 pills.

32 pills in total. You took them, made a few expected trips to the bathroom, and you were ready.And the irony is, after all that dread, the toughest part of the entire preparation wasn't the bathroom trips or the sheer volume of pills.

It was the food.

It was simply the fact that you

couldn't eat solid food, which really frames the anxiety in a new light. When we actually break down the logistics, taking some pills and fasting for a day, it is entirely manageable.

Right.

It's the unknown that breeds the fear.

Yeah, exactly. You even mentioned having a bit of a needle phobia, which makes total sense.So the IV insertion was really the only slightly daunting part of the physical appointment for you. But beyond that, you had incredibly high praise for the procedure itself, specifically the sedation.

The propofol.

Yes. You were sedated just prior to the exam, woke up quickly in recovery, and called propofol an incredible drug. The physical experience was smooth.But then you woke up and you got the initial findings.

Yes. And this is where the timeline gets crucial. After you woke up, Dr. T came in to discuss the scope.He let you know that two polyps were removed, and he also noted an ulcer in the sigmoid colon. Okay, but the most important detail here is the initial medical assessment. Dr. T didn't think it was serious at the time.

He thought it was routine.

Exactly. Standard protocol meant he still had to grab tissue samples and send them to the lab.But he told you and your wife, Cindy, that he would call with results in a couple of days.

So you leave feeling fine.

Right. You walked out of that clinic with a profound sense of relief. You had finally cleared the hurdle you'd been avoiding for over a year.And you were given the impression that everything was generally fine, which makes the

pivot a few days later so jarring. You made a really astute observation in your post about human memory. We all know the concept of flashbulb memories.

Oh, yeah. Knowing exactly where you were.

Exactly. We remember exactly where we were. For massive global events. Reagan shooting, the Challenger explosion, the Twin Towers falling.The brain just takes a high resolution snapshot of our surroundings.

When trauma hits, it encodes it perfectly.

Yeah, but you realize that on a personal scale, the exact same mechanism takes over, and you painted this vivid, almost cinematic picture of your own personal flashbulb moment. You were Just driving.

Just driving.

You were coming up the Gilbert Road off ramp from The Southern Loop 202, when the phone rang.

It was Dr. T. The Stark contrast between the absolute mundanity of a highway off ramp and the incoming weight of the news is exactly how these moments usually happen.

Life doesn't give us a dramatic soundtrack to prepare.

No, it doesn't. The phone call was incredibly brief. Yeah. Dr. T said, we have the test results back. You replied, okay. And then there was a slight pause.

Yeah.

And right after that pause, he delivered those three words. It is cancer.

I genuinely want to pause on that exact second, because if I put myself in that car on that off ramp

alone, it's terrifying to even imagine.

My expected reaction is total systemic failure. I would freeze. I would probably break down in tears. My mind would go completely blank. But your reaction, Bill, was so different.It's genuinely surprising how you bypassed that immediate panic.

What's fascinating here is if we connect this to the bigger picture of human psychology, what we're looking at is a classic, highly effective coping mechanism.

Compartmentalization.

Exactly. Cognitive compartmentalization.When faced with an overwhelming emotional threat, some people's brains will immediately shift into an analytical, problem solving state.

Just going straight to the logistics.

Right. You noted that there was no sudden wave of fear, no nausea, no tears. Instead, you felt an immediate driving desire to ask logistical questions.You shifted from being a terrified patient to being a project manager for your own health.

Project manager. Yeah.

You needed the data, and you needed the next steps.Functionally, this is incredibly beneficial in a medical crisis because it allows you to actively participate in your treatment plan right from the start.

So what does this all mean for the actual plan? Because you were in that project management headspace.You were ready to absorb Dr. T's instructions, and thankfully, he laid out a very calm, methodical approach, which is so important. Right. He didn't say, get to the emergency room right now.His office was going to schedule a CT scan for the following Monday, and you clearly understood the mechanics of why that was happening. The scan was to stage the cancer, to see if it was localized to the colon or if it had spread.Right after that, they would schedule a consult with a colorectal surgeon, because surgery was definitely going to be the next major step.

And there is a critical detail in this conversation that I believe served as a massive psychological anchor for you.

The trip.

The trip, yes. You mentioned to Dr. T that you and Cindy had a vacation planned for the very next week. A trip to New York for the US Tennis Open.Given the word Cancer. The natural instinct is to cancel every aspect of normal life.

Care d everything. Stay home, wait for the Doctors.

Exactly. But Dr. T insisted that you still go. He said, let's get the scan done before you leave, and we'll get you in with the surgeon when you get back.

That is so key.

That specific lack of urgency from the medical professional is profound. It signaled to your brain that while this was a serious problem, it was a manageable one. It wasn't a drop everything in panic emergency.You were still allowed to live your life.

I absolutely love that a doctor essentially prescribed a trip to to the US Tennis Open as part of the initial treatment plan.

It's brilliant medicine, honestly, it is.

But let's go back to the car. You hang up the phone. You are still sitting there on the off ramp.You now hold this massive, heavy piece of reality, and you have to decide what to do with it. You sit there trying to figure out who to call first, your wife, Cindy, or your son, Kev.

This decision is a fascinating look into emotional regulation. You chose to call Kev first, and the reasoning behind it shows a lot of self awareness.You recognize the sheer weight of what you had to say, and you weren't entirely sure if your calm facade would hold up when you spoke the words out loud.

Right. You hadn't even heard yourself say it yet.

Exactly. So you used the call to Kev as a sort of emotional dry run. You needed to practice delivering the news to ensure you could maintain your composure.Before you called your wife, you were actively managing your own nervous system so that you wouldn't unnecessarily panic hers.

And the dynamic with Kev is just great because the apple clearly does not fall far from the tree. The call went well, and you mentioned that Kev, much like you, immediately wanted

the facts, just wanted the data.

Right. He didn't dissolve into panic either. He just wanted the details.Having your son react with that same analytical mindset must have been incredibly validating in that moment. It reinforced the steady approach you were already taking.

It absolutely set the baseline for the next step. Because you had successfully navigated that first conversation, you were grounded when you made the call to Cindy.And we have to talk about her reaction, because it perfectly illustrates what a functional support system looks like in a crisis.

Yeah.

She didn't mirror the terror of the diagnosis. She matched your pragmatism.

Completely actionable entirely.

Her response was just, what do we do next? And then she offered the ultimate stabilizing thought. She said, let's not get ahead of ourselves.Let's follow the plan, stay positive and get to the other side.

Get to the other side. That is such a powerful way to frame it. It acknowledges the obstacle without letting it become the entire world.And then she left work to come be with you for the rest of the day. You told her she didn't need to, but you admitted you were really glad she did.That quiet, steady physical presence is exactly what someone needs when their reality has just been fractured.

So we have the diagnosis, we have the medical plan, and we have this incredibly grounded family dynamic tackling the problem, which naturally leads us to the source material itself.

Why post it?

Exactly. Why take all this deeply personal, vulnerable information and hit and publish on a real estate blog?

Right. Because the Phoenix Real Estate Guy blog is not a medical journal. It's not a personal diary. It is a professional industry space.But you address this directly and you explain what we can call the J Factor.

The J Factor. You laid out a few specific reasons. First, you know Jay, who runs the site, and you know he appreciates.Appreciates stories about real life just as much as he likes analyzing housing data.

Sure.

You also noted that Jay hates cancer with an absolute passion.But maybe my favorite reason you gave is that you just enjoy riling him up, using humor and maintaining that standard dynamic of giving your friend a hard time even while delivering news about a cancer diagnosis, is a brilliant way to maintain a sense of normalcy, it refuses to let the disease dictate the terms of your relationships.

But beyond the camaraderie with Jay, there is a much heavier purpose to putting this out there. And this is the absolute core of your message, Bill. It is a direct, urgent directive to your professional community.

A wake up call.

A massive wake up call. You highlighted a crucial medical reality. Colon cancer, when caught early, has one of the highest cure rates of any cancer. It is highly treatable.You knew this. You knew your audience knew this.

But you still waited.

But despite knowing it, you still delayed your own screening for over a year. So your message to the over 50 crowd reading that blog was as simple as it was urgent. Why wait?

This raises an important question about how we leverage our influence. Because you didn't just target the people who were due for a screening, you brought the younger audience into the fold as well.

The under 50 crowd.

Yes. You explicitly told your readers under 50 to think of their older family members and friends and to actively bother them about getting screened.

Just annoy them into doing it.

You told them to be annoying about it if they had to. You took the specific context of your own Delete appointment and your resulting diagnosis.And you weaponized it into a public health mandate for your entire network. You turned hindsight into a proactive tool for others.

So what does this all mean for the road ahead? It all culminates in a massive mindset shift.We started this deep dive talking about the three words that completely altered your reality on that Gilbert Road off ramp.

It is cancer.

It is cancer. Those words carry immense, undeniable weight. But you chose to end your piece by adopting a new set of words.You made it clear that while those first three words changed your life, the three words that matter most to you now, the words you are carrying forward are I will win.

That is the ultimate synthesis of this timeline. It's not just a story about getting bad news. It's a study in active resilience. You confronted a terrifying scenario.You systematically processed the shock. You leaned on a pragmatic support system, and then you immediately looked outward to ensure others might avoid the same hurdle.

Bill, speaking directly to you, I just want to acknowledge the fighting spirit it takes to share something this raw. It takes a lot of courage to drop the professional facade and say, hey, I'm dealing with this and you need to pay attention so you don't have to.

It really does.

You utilize the real estate network not to close a deal, but to potentially save lives. And with that I will win mentality firmly in place, it's clear you have exactly the right psychological armor for whatever comes next.

And as we close out this deep dive, I want to leave you, Bill, and everyone listening with a final thought to ponder.When we look at how seamlessly a deeply personal, vulnerable health plea fits into a professional real estate blog, it forces us to rethink our boundaries.If sharing our ultimate real life vulnerabilities can literally save the lives of our colleagues and peers, how much more powerful and how much more human could our industries be if we permanently stop pretending that our professional selves and our personal selves are two completely different people?

Thank you so much for listening to these episodes that actually are an analysis of the blog posts I put out. Those nine posts that I wrote in 2012 and 2013. We'll get back to some regular programming shortly, and thank you so much for tuning in. Cheers.