FREE NEWSLETTER
IT’S SEVEN MONTHS since I received my terminal diagnosis. Cancer is now the reality that looms over each day, and it’s been a rocky road, though the latest abdomen scan suggests I’ll be around for a while longer.
Where’s my head at? Here are four questions I’ve been asking myself—questions, I suspect, that might also be interesting to those who aren’t facing a terminal diagnosis.
1. Am I afraid of dying? No, but I am afraid of not living. In particular, there are two things I’ll miss.
First, I love the day to day—the blue sky, leaves dancing down the sidewalk, morning coffee, afternoon naps, an evening glass of wine, chatting about the day with Elaine. Words like mindful and intentional tend to hit my gag reflex—too touchy-feely for my taste. Still, that’s what I’m trying to do, to be mindful of all that’s around me and intentional about how I use my time. The world is an amazing place, and I hate the idea that I’ll no longer get to revel in its daily joys.
Second, it pains me that not only won’t I get to grow old with Elaine, but also I won’t see what the years ahead hold for my children and grandchildren. Who will they become? What triumphs will they enjoy? How will they cope with the hardships thrown their way? Most of us get to the point where we focus less on our own life, and instead live more through the eyes of others. I was just starting to enjoy that new life phase, but now it’s about to get snatched away.
2. Am I using my time in the best way possible? Mostly, I’ve spent the past seven months doing what I’ve done for years, which is to sit at my laptop, writing and editing. Maybe this work doesn’t bring happiness in a laugh out loud kind of way, but it does give me a profound sense of satisfaction.
Are there other things I ought to be doing? Even before my diagnosis, Elaine and I had a travel wish list. Over the past seven months, we’ve managed three trips. But we’ve also canceled one because I landed in hospital—and we’re aware that, from now on, every plan we make is tentative. It feels like time is increasingly short, the world is getting smaller, venturing far from our Philadelphia home is more daunting, and perhaps our “bucket list” time could soon be over.
Am I upset? When you know time is running low, it makes you think hard about how you use your days and weeks. Would I be distraught if I never went to Europe again? Probably not. Instead, what I fear most is the moment when I no longer have the energy to make some small difference in the world, which is why you’ll find me sitting in front of my laptop tomorrow, and the day after, and—I hope—the day after that.
3. Why aren’t I angrier about my diagnosis? I consider myself fortunate. I’ve spent my career doing what I love and—despite some rough times—I’ve had a mostly happy life. What if it had been otherwise? If I’d been stuck in a job I hated, waiting for retirement to get my reward, I imagine I would indeed feel cheated, and I wouldn’t be nearly so sanguine about my diagnosis.
Do you hate your job? Are you in an unhappy relationship? Suppose that, like me, you were given a year to live. Would you regret the life you’ve led and, if so, should you take steps to change it now?
4. How can I prepare to be my future self? In an Oct. 25 Forum post, I wrote, “As best I can tell, my stage 4 cancer hasn’t had any impact on my physical abilities. Indeed, most days, I feel pretty good. I’d always thought death would be easier to accept because of the pain involved and the endless interactions with the medical establishment, which would slowly sap my will to live. But so far, it hasn’t been that way.”
Ironically, it was about then that I started feeling a whole lot worse, thanks to the back pain caused by the cancer spreading to my spine. Radiation earlier this month brought substantial relief. Nonetheless, I feel my illness has moved me fast forward into old age. It can be difficult to imagine who we’ll become—but, as I’ve discovered, there’s a risk we’ll become that person with extraordinary speed. How can we better prepare ourselves? In retrospect, I’m grateful for two lifelong habits.
First, before my diagnosis, I was in good physical shape, and that’s stood me in good stead over the past seven months. I’ve worked out pretty much every day for three decades, ever since I started training for my first marathon. Clearly, this didn’t stop one of my genes from going rogue and causing cancer. On the other hand, because I was in good shape when I got my diagnosis, it’s helped me to weather the treatment reasonably well and, I believe, bought me a little extra time.
Second, my financial affairs were fairly well-organized before my diagnosis. Since then, I’ve made a big push to simplify my finances even further, and to throw out old papers and unwanted possessions. The amount of work has been significant. Still, without my earlier efforts, it would have been far more onerous.
Jonathan Clements is the founder and editor of HumbleDollar. Follow him on X @ClementsMoney and on Facebook, and check out his earlier articles.
Want to receive our weekly newsletter? Sign up now. How about our daily alert about the site's latest posts? Join the list.
I have been getting your newsletters for many years and candidly, haven’t always had time to read them, but since you’ve been sharing about your terminal cancer diagnosis, I have read your posts with curiosity and compassion. I’m grateful for your perspectives and it’s provided me with some insight as well. I really appreciate your candor and openness in sharing this experience as you’re living it. And many of the things you’ve shared about being prepared and the feelings of gratitude really resonate with me and are inspiring me to do more of what you’ve described. Thank you again for all that you have contributed to the personal finance community and beyond. Sending you good energy as you continue your journey.
I’ve been a reader for about 5 years now, and I’ve always enjoyed your information. Your diagnosis was a shock to me when you first reported it, but your journey is giving me a lot of fuel for rethinking and self-examination.
I’ve had my own business for 28 years. It has been hard and often a grind. The years 2001–02, 2008–10, 2018, and 2020 were especially challenging {= awful}. I made a commitment to myself and my wife 4 weeks ago to make changes, sell what I can of the book of business, and let the chips fall where they may. It is scary and daunting, but it is time.
When I read these posts, it puts a lot more in perspective about what is truly important, what is truly daunting, and how I want to finish out my time on earth. I just wanted to express my admiration for your attitude and your ability to share so much.
Thanks for the “It’s a Wonderful Life” mirror and guidance!
No diagnosis, but I noticed a shift of energy at 70 and decided to make some decisions regarding our money and our wills. Both of us changed life often, so savings are not that great, but do provide some income. We also went with a HUD/HECM reverse to provide us with a bucket of money for probable medical care and maybe a trip or so. We had run out of Roth dollars, after almost twenty years retired, so this is the fix, for us. We did not have to take income from the reverse, as it will go back into the LOC for our needs. My spouse has mild dementia, so the money will be there when and if needed.
Thanks for a very thought provoking article. I struggled to imagine what I would do in such a situation. See
https://humbledollar.com/2024/06/one-life-to-live/. Though this is deeply personal, and everyone has certain preferences, your article provides valuable insights. .
My 94 year old Mother-in-Law is at her end of life. There are good days and bad days. On good days, she is her best self – telling stories non-stop. We are video recording those moments to cherish her memory in future.
In the near future, AI technology could help preserve the memory of loved ones. See
https://www.technologyreview.com/2024/05/07/1092116/deepfakes-dead-chinese-business-grief/
Jonathan,
With such calm & composure, you continue to crank out inspirational/helpful articles to better equip your readers to face life; not just financially, but totally. Thank you for your service. And I include you in my daily prayers to
have the strength to face what each day may bring. God bless! Charles W. Brown, Maryville, TN.
Such wisdom, Jonathan, and so contrary to what is being pushed out by many other financial and “ life” counselors. The email after yours was from John Mauldin who is pushing a “life transforming “ newsletter( for $1400) that promises health and “wellness” therapies that will allow the lucky subscribers to live for 150 or 200 years and identify companies that will make it happen. These companies are on the “verge” of massive breakthroughs. Of course, they are held back by a criminally incompetent FDA that “should be abolished”. Snake oil salesman. How do people believe this junk?
I’ve enjoyed reading your column for a few years now. Little did I know that 2 weeks ago I would be diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic/liver cancer. Today’s piece was especially inspiring. Thank you. And keyboard away! for as long as you can!
Sorry to hear. 🙏
Best wishes for the journey ahead — it’ll no doubt be rough, but try to make the most of each day.
Thank you for both your perspective and your inspiration.
Thank you, Jonathan, for these wonderful life lessons. What a treasure trove your writings will be in the future for those who love you and wonder what you were feeling at any specific time along the way.
I never wrote about my experiences or feelings when I was at stage 4, and now I wish I had, because eight years later it’s getting harder to remember the emotions I experienced back than, and I would like to be able to read about them now.
Mike, we all have a different perspective on illness. I think you are blessed not being able to remember all the details of your cancer. So many write journals and although I’m very interested when Jonathan gives us updates—and I’m sure so many appreciate them, it saddens me no end to think about all I had to endure and suffer through. I could never journal my experiences.
I had 3 years of chemotherapy and two of immunotherapy, simultaneously. It was a long, horrendous stretch. Unlike, Jonathan, I was in terrible pain and the fatigue was unbelievable. It usually hit me the second day after chemo. I fought it with what strength I had, but for 8 or 9 days I would lay on the couch, drained of everything.
of course I was a lot older than Jonathan and probably older than you when I was diagnosed with stage 4 metastatic lung cancer so I think that’s why it took so much out of me, even though the oncologist told me I was in amazingly good shape for a woman my age.
Although the immunotherapy did result in stabilizing the cancer I was hospitalized for a host of other problems stemming from the drug, Keytruda, the immunotherapy drug.
And I’m still having problems, most serious of all, a rare form of Vasculitis, which is incurable
and difficult to control. It has seriously damaged my kidneys and required blood transfusions. I’ve spent a lot of years taking high doses of steroids. So, Mike, I wish you and Jonathan the best in the New Year. I think Jonathan’s prognosis will improve with his great attitude and pragmatic control of his situation. And I hope your remission is forever.
Jonathan – thanks for your insights at a difficult time. I was in a job I didn’t care for, but followed your money advice early on and was able to retire early. Your advice now is helping me keep things in perspective as life circumstances change. Thank you!
As someone with a CLL diagnosis that isn’t as immediately life-threatening but eventually may be (my dad died from the same cancer) one of the things I’ve done to get my affairs in order is to create a sheet listing accounts, subscriptions, and the like. It also lists common items that I don’t have so people don’t spend time looking for them (safe deposit box, life insurance, storage locker, etc)
I’ve never thought to list the common things I don’t have. Great idea!
Even those of us spend time with people near death don’t often get to hear or read their thoughts about the process. Most people don’t have the skills or inclination to comment on their feelings during such a time. Thank you for continuing to share yours.
A comment from a PT perspective: You’re right about your first point in #4–healthy people who get hit with an injury recover faster than those who aren’t, or weather disease better by drawing on their reserve of strength. You’re pulling from the investment you made in your health.
Glad to hear the latest scan was good news, and that you got relief for the back pain. People talk about living an intentional life, but you are living an intentional death, which is much harder.
Excellent thought. I’m going to remember that one. Thank you.
That’s a great comment, Kathy. It occurs to me that they are one and the same–our lifespan can be thought of as a long dying, or a long living. Either way, Jonathan is advocating doing it deliberately.
As typical, you push us further than we might have anticipated with your title, Four Questions. I count 16 questions, important and powerful, some which you answer in the context of your own life. We each do well to question ourselves, or regularly chew over possible answers. We may not all have a terminal diagnosis (yet). But everyone is terminal, possessing inherent mortality, the ultimate unifying human conundrum.
“…what I fear most is the moment when I no longer have the energy to make some small difference in the world…”
I suggest, from where I sit, that a portion of this fear can be set aside. As long as any new person finds your lifetime of written words and thereby benefits (and I imagine these souls number in the billions) you will be making “some small difference” even as your energy ebbs.
You will long accompany us, Jonathan.
Jonathan, thanks for an insightful, introspective, and poignant article. You are so right that these are important questions we can all consider in our lives. I find I learn something each day from HD, which is both gratifying and humbling.
Jonathan,
Thank you for your thoughts and insights. Know that I will miss you when the time comes. You have had and continue to have a remarkable impact on my life. I felt a twinge of survivor’s guilt today. In my world of medicine, some of the cruelest things unfortunately happen to the nicest people. My wife was diagnosed and treated for breast cancer this year. So far we have fared well and she is in remission, a survivor. Your legacy is huge and will survive you for generations. Thank you for the gifts you have bestowed on me and countless others.
Cheers,
Bill
Jonathan – If this isn’t straying too far into the personal, is there a possibility that Elaine might share a tidbit about her side of the experience?
If she decided to do so, that would be great — but it would also be entirely her call. I would never ask her to do so. She’s a much more private person than I am.
You are quite amazing to not only be willing to share your journey with us, but also value writing as one of the final ways you can continue to make a “small difference in the world.” May you be granted many, many more days on this planet to make a small difference in each one, and to experience life and the love of family to the fullest in every single one.
A useful reminder – get rid of junk so someone else doesn’t have to… Had that reminder when my mom moved from a house to an apartment and again from there to assisted living and now in a nursing home… I started and then stalled out. Need to get started on that again. Long covid doesn’t help that…ironically caught covid Dec 2023 at a major cancer center while I was there despite wearing a mask and being vaccinated – I too have a cancer with no cure, although mine, my 3rd cancer, is a blood cancer so typically has a longer lifespan even though it is incurable… Be aware that MD Anderson Cancer Center found, following people prospectively that about 60% of cancer patients who caught covid get long covid whether or not they are in active treatment.
Of course cancer diagnoses (and other major, serious, won’t go away health issues) throw a wrench in our lives in so many ways – financial, physical, emotional, and that of our families. It’s never easy and some of us have more work to do than others to pull the aspects of our lives together that you talk about. Like anything else it is easier to do things a little at a time rather than all at once when we have to. Most of us only realize that when we hit the “when we have to” stage of life.
For me I have found that a cancer diagnosis is an emotional earthquake with plenty of aftershocks. And I found there is a qualitative difference between a cancer with a potential cure (my first two) and one that currently doesn’t have one (my 3rd). In some respects it is like grief – initially intense emotions most of the time. I remember being at work (I was diagnosed with my 3rd day one of a new job, got the call in the middle of the day at work) and the one day early on I suddenly realized I hadn’t thought about cancer for nearly 4 hours I was so involved in what I was doing. And like grief, you eventually mostly get a grip and just like when grieving the emotions, over time when they hit, are nearly as intense, but last shorter periods of time and are further and further apart. Of course out of the blue you can be unexpectedly triggered, and like grief it can be months or even years later.
It’s the uncertainty about time left that I struggle with. I procrastinate and then sometimes feel guilty as I know if I don’t get some things done it will make things harder for others. As my finances were wrecked (I live in a state with no medicaid expansion) by having to pay full price for health care once I lost my job over chemo side effects, the tension of doing things I had always planned on doing that cost money, vs worrying I won’t have enough to live until I die (social security doesn’t even begin to meet basic needs but I make just a smidge too much to be dual eligible for to add medicaid to medicare) so I don’t do the things I had always planned on. That has meant finding other, free things to do that bring pleasure into my life.
Those of you reading his journey through a terminal illness and have waded through my zillion words I just wrote, think about balancing, in a rational way, saving for your unknown future and doing things you love now that cost money. Later it may be too late. None of us can plan when or how we actually will die until we are caught in the middle of that last part of our lives. For some of us we will be dumped on that path suddenly and earlier than planned/expected. But we can plan and do things now that enrich our lives and do it is a way that still allows us to plan for the future. We can also make that last part of our journey easier if we do at least some of the things he suggests above in his article before we are forced to.
There are companies that will come in and clear the house, give you a small portion of proceeds and then–done! Too many people get lost in the process of too many decisions, rent a storage unit for years, which is a waste. A charity I work with gleans kitchen/bath/bedroom items before the company comes in. We work with agencies as we have volunteers and some storage space. It has gone well for three years and counting.
Liz, thank you so much for sharing what you’re going through. I’m sorry that your health ordeal has been so massively aggravated by financial issues that should not happen in this country.
And for you to be overseeing your mother’s care in the midst of all this is heroic.
After my “final” diagnosis 9 years ago, which was as sudden and shocking as yours (the news delivered when I woke up from a routine surgery), I actually sought out experiences like yours that took my thoughts away from cancer for hours at a time. For me, soccer did the trick. I had played for nearly 50 years and resolved to keep going as long as I could. Not only did making my body function and trying to win the game totally dominate my thoughts, but it was life-affirming — as long as I could play, I couldn’t be dying.
A new treatment arrived for me just in time. I will be hoping for the same for you. Please write again.
You said a lot, Liz, straight from the heart and all good advice. So sad that you had no choice but to pay so many medical bills out of pocket, yet you seem to have kept a positive attitude, such as finding things to do that are inexpensive or free. And being generous with your time and energy here today. Thank you and God bless.
Thank you for the update and for your perspective. As an early retiree it is helpful to get a reminder how precious time is. More precious than money because we can’t buy more. A life well lived is it’s own reward.
Jonathan–
I got to your column by way of The Retirement Manifesto, and am so glad I did!
Having lost my husband and sister 8-9 months ago, I am very much sensitized to death in life as I have grieved. Your writing is so rich and full of the realities of your continuing life and impending death that it takes my breath away. I honor you for your honest sharing.
Dealing with the financial and physical aftermaths of my two loved ones’ deaths has had me clearing out my house while I am able and putting things in order for my family. While I am alive and well, I do not want my family to experience the trauma of having to “throw my life away”, as I did with my sister’s decades of stored “stuff.”
There is such wisdom in living one’s life in touch with the cycle of life and death, especially as we grow older. Thank you for your writing that is helping me do that just a bit more.
Peace to you and your family in your journey to the end.
Jonathan, thanks for another great perspective that anyone (terminal illness or not) might be confronting/ asking themselves these questions.
I can particularly relate to the “getting your financial affairs simplified/decumulating papers” objective to make things easier for your spouse and family. This is not an easy task but one that seems daunting to many.
As far as feeling angrier, that’s one many could confront as we experience any ailments of growing older. All we can do is try to manage/ take care of our health as best we can (as you have prepared for in younger years) to minimize the impact of aging and the reduced functioning it can sometimes bring.
I wish you the best and that you continue to feel good and are at peace with these 4 questions.
Thanks so much for posting this perspective. I’ve been reading your columns since the WSJ Getting Going era, and now, on the cusp of retirement, am glad you’re still at it. Here’s to as much time extension as possible, and thanks again! 🙂
So sensitive and right. I am 83 . I hated my job but read eclectic material, struggled to change the world and now I have come to love cycling. I have a good wife and cherish the time left. But getting my papers in order still defeats me. Thanks for your perspective.