Sitting in this sparse gray room with nothing to look at besides posters of the digestive tract, no doubt provided by drug companies as perks for doctor’s offices, I await a verdict that will determine my future.

I’ve done nothing to prepare for good news. Why should I? I’m not one these people who will have some epiphany about making the most out of every day. I had no desire to climb Machu Picchu before, so why would I do it now? No, any good news will simply send me home to continue to take whatever small pleasures I can without risking my life. And then just wait for the next medical crisis that is sure to rain down on me to be followed by the extraction of bodily fluids and more tests to see if I dodged another bullet. Provided I dodge this one.

It’s more important that I prepare for the bad news. That will require me to be more proactive. Is my will up to date? My health care directives? Does my health care proxy have it in writing what I want to happen to me should I not be able to make decisions? When do I start giving away my stuff? Who do I donate what to?

Got to remember to clear my browsing history. Whoever gets my computer doesn’t need to see the porn sites I visited. Maybe I just toss the computer. There’s so much work to prepare for dying. It occurs to me that if I drop dead here and now, I won’t have to worry about any of this. But that’s not going to happen. Mine will be a gradual deterioration, which I can only hope will be accompanied by significant pain medication, and finally, people looking at me with sad eyes-less  and less of them as I get closer to death—until the few people who are at my bedside give me “permission to let go.”

Regrets? What’s the point? If I really wanted to do something, I would have done it. Anything I didn’t do was by virtue of fear or laziness and I need to own both of those. What do I leave behind? Not much. No children. My siblings are scattered around the country and truth be told we’re not very close. I suspect my friends will have a memorial service for me where I’ll be presented in a positive light, because that’s what social protocol demands. Not that it will be tough to say nice things about me-I’m a nice guy. I know that. But what importance did my life have? There won’t be any Times obit giving me credit for some significant achievement. There will just be a bunch of people saying some generally nice things. Nobody’s life will be altered by my not being around. In some ways that’s very sad. But I’ve been to numerous memorial services where you would leave, thinking, how can any of these people go on after the person they just eulogized has passed on? They seem sad to the point of existential despair. But the reality is, that everyone went to work the next day, did their laundry, paid their bills, and continued their lives. That’s just what happens. Asi es la vida. Such is life.

Death is easy for the already deceased, but monumentally inconvenient to the survivors. A few poor souls will have to go through my stuff, disperse it, clean out my apartment, meet with my lawyer. At least some of them will reap a bit of financial benefit. Luckily, I don’t have enough that people will fight over my assets.

I guess I’m going to have to tell people-family, friends, co-workers. Who do I tell? What do I tell them? Who do I tell first? Do I put this on Facebook? Even I know that’s grotesque. But I’ll have to go through the same story over and over. That’s so tedious. If I’m dying, I shouldn’t have to put myself through this. And then I’ll have to listen to everyone asking me If I tried everything, if I tried some plant grown in the jungles of Bolivia. And then the well-meaning but ultimately meaningless offers to “call if you need anything,” which means I have to call and ask for help. Anyone who knows me knows that’s not going to happen.

OK this is all too much. I need to make a list.

Death to-do List

1) Make a list of all my possessions and assets

2) Make sure the necessary documents are updated

           a) Will—Decide who gets what

1. Any remaining liquid assets and life insurance go to my siblings. That should make them feel guilty.
2. As far as possessions, the poor soul that gets to go through my stuff can keep, sell, or throw out whatever they want.

           b) Advanced Directives—If I’m not conscious, just yank that plug

           c) Health Care Proxy-maybe I should hold a lottery. The loser gets to be my health care proxy

3) Pick someone to clean out apartment and disburse physical assets

4) Pick someone to write an obituary. But I want to see it. Oh, what the hell I’ll just do it myself.

5) Pick someone to oversee my finances when I’m no longer able to manage them. That person must be smart enough know which bills they can stop paying and which they need to pay until I’m actually dead like life insurance, and health insurance. This should be a short list.

(How am I going to pick these people? That’s another headache)

6) So, I’ll need to get a Power of Attorney. I’ll need to talk to my lawyer (fat chance getting him to return my calls)

7) Let people know I’ll be dying soon—separate list

   a) Co-workers—I’ll let them fight over my office supplies when I leave.

   b) Former co-workers—I wonder how many will say “You know, I meant to call him.”

   c) Friends—This will just be an orgy of making other people feel better about my impending demise.

   d) Family—Outside of the obligatory phone call I get every six months or so and some insipid Christmas cards, they’ve pretty much ignored my existence, so they just really need to know when the funeral is

8) In what order do I tell them?—You can bet there will be people offended if they weren’t first to know, as usual making it be about them.

9) How do I tell them–Phone (ugh! I can’t possibly) email?

10) What do I say?

First draft:

Dear treasured (?) friends and family who still may give a rat’s ass. Well it looks like I’ll be “giving up the ghost”; “buying the farm”, “taking a dirt nap” or whatever euphemism you prefer. I’ve got about six months, but I’ll likely won’t make any sense after four. So, if you choose to say goodbye any time after that, please don’t be offended if I think you’re Abraham Lincoln. Some of you I’ve asked to handle a few details. I spread them out so there’s not much to do, so don’t be a dick. Just do it. Some of you think I owe you an apology for some slight, some years ago which I have absolutely no recollection of. If you didn’t bring it up until now it couldn’t have been that big a deal. Just suck it up. Some of you may think you owe me an apology for some hurt you inflicted on me.

Too late. Take it to your grave/priest/shrink. I don’t want to hear it.

Well, it’s just a first draft.

Oh my God, I’m exhausted just looking at this. If whatever disease I have doesn’t kill me, doing everything on this list will finish me for sure. I think I have to give some serious consideration to continue living. I suppose it’s possible that the doctor might not come in with bad news. But if she does, maybe I start to price air fares to Bolivia.

Uh-oh, the door is opening.