Your doctor says you’ve got a brain cloud. You’ll be dead in between 3-4 weeks. You will have no symptoms, your brain will simply fail, followed abruptly by your body. What will you do?
I’m a little more depressed than usual because I really don’t have an answer for this. I’ve got way too much life insurance so I could rack up some serious bills as I indulge my last requests and still have plenty left over to take care of business. Trouble is, I’m totally drawing a blank.
I would definitely quit my job because I take a lot of abuse, it’s exhausting, and I only do it for the money (yes, I know what that makes me). I’d like to do something fun, but I don’t see the point if I’m going to take the thrills and happiness to my grave in a few short weeks. If I were to try and do something fun with the kids they would just bitch and moan like they always do and at best they’d look back in 20 years and realize what an opportunity they wasted being brats.
It would be better if I gave such opportunities to those who have some life ahead of them. Seems like the best use of my time would be to get my papers in order and to stipulate who gets what. And in the process, identify which of my peeps are holding themselves back for want of a few bucks: One guy who’s always been there for me could use $150k to get a brewery bar going; my wife could use a couple more years of college to open up her prospects (she’s got a horrible job); the kids could use some jack for college and/or therapy. Apart from that though, all I’ve ever really wanted to do is to just sit in a quiet and comfortable place away from the daily insults of the world. Is it lame that I would be happiest doing that?
I hate to be the first one at the party, here, but…I think wanting to provide some happiness to others is nice. And would be a great legacy. But there’d be nothing wrong with looking for your bliss, either. What used to make you smile? much less belly-laugh. If you could think of something where you’ve been “in the zone,” totally in the moment, that would be a great thing to experience again even if you just take it with you. We don’t recycle sparklers, do we?
Yeah, I’d probably take a few days to get my affairs in order, then have as much fun as I could for my remaining time. Probably not enough time for a European vacation, but there’s still a lot of the US I want to see. Also, food, alcohol and sex, no limits or restraint. Might even start smoking, what the hell. And I’d drive fast!
I’m not too worried about my experiences dying with me: that’s gonna happen in 4 weeks or 40 years anyway.
If I’m convinced that this is absolutely going to happen, the first I do is have the Druidess take a picture of my bare ass, have it printed up as an 8x10 glossy, and send it to the executive director of my program along with a tube of lipstick. Even his feeble brain should be able to figure that one out.
I’d just spend the four weeks in a state of stone cold, brain-freezing, catatonia-inducing panic, so I wouldn’t be able to get much fun out of it, I’m afraid.
I’d have the panic thing too. It’s for this exact reason that the knowledge of my time of death is not something I remotely desire.
But -
I’d do what I could to stave it off, to distract myself. I’d definitely travel. I’d want to take my SO with me; we could just deplete my savings seeing as much of the world as we could, spending time together, trying to be as happy as possible. Go to concerts. Sleep less than we ought to. Take lots of pictures so that something of me would still be around.
The very first story Robert Heinlein had published “Lifeline” was about a guy who invented a machine that could tell when you would die(also when you were born).
He was assassinated by an agent of an insurance company executive. They were losing money because folks were planning their policies based on their know death date.
It was a superb story, especially the last line, but I never understood why people would want to know when they would die, even if they had time to plan. For me it would spoil the time.
That being said, if I inadvertently learned that I had four more weeks I’d get my affairs in order, then go eat and drink and play with my dog.
I wouldn’t change anything I’m doing now. I could be dead in 4 min…utes. I never understood those movies where people who are dying go skydiving or on a trip to some foreign country. I can’t do that now, nor would I if I could, and I’m healthy AFAIK.
This is an awesome answer, all I can do is add to it, do something death-defying, do lots of somethings you wouldn’t do normally because of the fatality concerns. It’s even better if you’re not leaving anyone behind to deal with your finances afterwards, just rack up tons of serious debt, live like a millionaire, stick your finger to the world and tell them to suck it :eek:.
Of course, only do these things if you’re totally, 150% sure you’re life is over, otherwise, it might be the worst mistake ever :D.
Not lame at all. Just from the thread title, before I even read your OP, I was thinking that what I would want to do most would be to revisit all of the most beautiful, peaceful places I’ve been in my life and just sit for a while. Without having to worry about saving for the future, I could certainly afford to fly to Scotland for a few days, and still have time to get back to the places I love in California.
I wouldn’t feel any real need to spend a ton of money – everything I like to spend on is stuff that I wouldn’t have time to use anyway.
It’s naturally hard to answer this question when you are depressed.
Four weeks is relatively easy to think through for me. I would quit working ASAP. I’d go to the Grand Canyon, which I’ve never seen. I’d go out to the Pacific Ocean, which I’ve never swam in before. Those three things would be on the list. I could probably find some other relatively small things to fill the time. Other people might think I’d be wasting time, but then again it would be my time. Not theirs.
I’d struggle with longer-term endpoints, however. Let’s say the doctors give me four years instead of four weeks. Do I quit working? Well, no. Because I don’t have four years of savings. But how can I possibly go to work every day knowing I’ve only got four years of life left? Could I really summon enough care to crunch numbers all day? I don’t think I could. Every time I faced some petty bullshit, I’d be thinking about that ticking clock. So the smaller the window of waiting, the better.
First, I would write notes to all my family and friends, to thank them for how incredible they are and relate a favorite memory of ours. I probably would go do all those things I was too afraid to do, like skydiving, because I would rather die that way than in a hospital bed. The rest of my days would be spent on a beach, cracking jokes and hammering pitchers of tropical drinks. I wouldn’t get hung up on money issues, I would let the living sort it out.
Shoot heroin. I hear it’s amazing. I honestly wonder why my 97 year old, expecting-to-die-any-day grandfather doesn’t do it, other than the fact that at his age, it’s probably hard to obtain. Rest assured, that if I make it to his age, I will have a dealer.
I was just thinking about this this morning. I’d start making arrangements for my ex-husband to take my house so he could live here with the kids, pay it off and sell it eventually, and give the proceeds to them. I don’t have life insurance so that’s the best I can do for them.
That’s as far as I got in my planning. I think I’d focus on spending time with the kids…I’m thinking a trip to the Smokies, to a cabin with a view and a hot tub. It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy.
