It is easy for old people to get prescription opiates though, which are pretty much the same thing. And 90% of them are loaded up on them already.
Time to party!
Spend time in the Caribbean sun and water. See the Aurora. Ride rollercoasters. Make out with kittens and cute boys. Eat wonderfully. Play Legos with my nephews.
I would love to know when I was going to die.
Travel, definitely travel, with my wife and son. One more visit to the Grand Canyon, with side trips to some of the other national parks in that part of the country that I’ve missed; one more visit to Glacier National Park if it’s between mid-July and mid-September; if not, then Yosemite and the Tetons. I’d write letters to family and friends in the evenings, but during the day I’d hike and see interesting stuff. I’d alternate days of serious hikes by myself with short hikes that my wife and son could go with me on, since neither of them can go more than a couple of miles.
There wouldn’t be a whole lot of legal/financial loose ends to wrap up. I’d go ahead and write checks to my wife for the balances of funds in the two bank accounts that are solely in my name, make sure she has the logins and passwords for anything involving retirement funds and whatnot…probably less than an hour’s worth of stuff altogether. I’d save a few days at the end for some time with my father and sisters, a party with some friends, and one last day with my wife and son, to tell them just how much they’ve added to my life, and how much joy they’ve brought me.
Spend one week deciding who the most beautiful woman on earth is.
(Probably) spend three weeks begging her to have sex with me before I die.
(Probably) die frustrated.
But if I don’t die frustrated, I will die VERY happy.
During the day, I would be quiet and peaceful and introspective, alone with my children and my other family and my close friends, reflecting on my life and my legacy and the meaning of it all and coming to terms with my impending demise. Then, at night, I would party my ass off and have sex, lots of sex. And do the sorts of drugs that make you not sleep, because I am not wasting my final weeks on that bullshit. I would be going to par-tay.
So men are just horn dogs till they die, huh. My father was 77 years old when he died. In his wallet I found few pictures, a couple dollars, and a cut-out advertisement for a a penile extender.
I wasn’t horribly shocked, though. Years before I’d told him about Penthouse Forum. He thought he’d found God.
You didn’t know?? I’m sorry to have been the one who broke it to you. In my own defense, I did say that I would die frustrated – rather than rape the woman before dying, which is what a lot of guys would probably do. That puts me near the top of the guy heap. 
And it is a heap…
Which reminds me of a joke.
Two guys in a bar:
Guy one, “Suppose the world is going to end in half an hour. What would you do?”
Other guy, “Fuck anything that moves. How about you?”
Guy one, “Stay very still.”
Finally get around to finishing that time-travel device I’ve been working on.
Quit work, and spend the better part of 4 weeks sleeping and eating bacon.
I’d go visit family that I haven’t seen in ages. I’d eat lots of foods that I have denied myself all these years. I would not clean another toilet or shower. I’d try to spend a lot of time on a warm beach. I would also try to travel to one or two of the places I most want to see. New England area is high on my list.
Of course, I’d be heavily drugged to keep my panic and fear at bay, so realistically, I’d probably be curled in the fetal position somewhere sucking my thumb.
Yep, the hard drives would go. Then I (we) would head for St Martin and enjoy.
Honestly, try to get things set up for my wife as best I could, so that she wasn’t burdened with too much bullshit after I’m dead and then get rid of the porn.
Create the evidence, and videotape myself doing it.