What if you were told you had a year to live? Life coaches sometimes pose questions like this to help folks figure out what’s truly important to them. But for me, this isn’t a theoretical question.
On May 21, on the cusp of retirement and at the not-so-grand age of 61, I learned I had stage-four cancer, which started in my lungs and has since metastasized to my brain and elsewhere. All this is the result of a defective gene — one that’s relatively rare — and the treatment plan isn’t terribly promising. What have I learned in the months since?
The real pleasure is in the day-to-day.
Yes, my wife, Elaine, and I have various trips booked for the months ahead, including Ireland, Paris and London. But for me, the greatest joy lies in the everyday — that first cup of coffee, writing and editing, exercising, taking a nap, going out to dinner.
Making progress still feels awfully good.
We humans aren’t built to relax. Rather, we’re built to strive. Thanks to the restlessness we inherited from our nomadic ancestors, nobody really wants to stop and smell the roses — and that includes me, despite the limited time I have left.
Every day, I’m at the breakfast table before dawn, pounding away at the laptop. You’ll find me smiling at the tap-tap-tap of the keyboard — and the thought that somebody somewhere might find my words helpful.
No, I’m not spending like there’s no tomorrow, even if there isn’t one.
I have a seven-figure portfolio that was supposed to pay for my retirement, but will instead help pay for the retirement of others.
I could, of course, go on a glorious spending spree — first-class travel, luxury hotels, fine art. But after a lifetime of thrift, that sort of spending would make me uncomfortable, plus I’d be taking money from Elaine and my two children, and why would I want to do that?
Everybody wants a piece of me.
I’ve heard from acquaintances I haven’t seen in decades. Some want to travel to Philadelphia to see me, which may be a good use of their time, but it sure doesn’t feel like a wise way to use what little time I have left. More than once, I’ve joked to my wife that these folks want one last look at the corpse.
Elaine doesn’t care much for my jokes.
Dying is a busy time.
It isn’t just all my correspondents and visitors. If you want to help your family by leaving behind a well-organized estate — and that’s at the top of my list of priorities — there are countless things to do, including tossing out old financial papers, closing credit cards and financial accounts, revising your will and other estate-planning documents, creating financial instructions for family members, and so much more.
