Ah, even a cancerous girl can dream.
They should make an adult version of the Make-a-Wish Foundation, don't you think? I'll bet Disney wouldn't even make the top ten.
So, I've been thinking about all I need to do. I
I purchased The Story of a Lifetime and have begun filling it out for my children. This is a book of questions that you respond to so your family can posthumously get to know you.
It's full of queries such as, "Have you ever saved someone's life? Tell the story." And, I totally haven't, but my kids don't know that so I'm going to have a lot of fun making up stories about my heroism. They'll get a better mom dead than I ever was alive - I'll be Saint Ann by the time I'm done.
I'll start making end-of-life medical arrangements, so my family knows my wishes, although I'm not even sure I know them. And, you all know damn well that I'll write my own obituary. Eventually I will probably start cleaning out a bunch of stuff that means something to me but will be junk to others, like that skirt I wore when I was 18 that is hanging in the back of the closet and that I could still fit into until the bloating started a few months ago.
I realize I have years left to live - maybe even a decade, perhaps even two. Hell, maybe even a normal lifespan - I'm not giving up hope at all. But, there are no guarantees with this disease - I've seen it take people swiftly.
I just work much better under a deadline.
Getting your affairs in order, in the traditional sense, means financially. This is where being poor for a lifetime pays off - there isn't that much for me to do.
I do have insurance. I work for a school district, and as most big companies do, they offer life insurance as a benefit with employment. When I first started, I took the minimum because, you know, I was never going to die; life insurance is for other people. A year or so ago, they changed carriers and offered everybody the chance to up their insurance, no questions asked. Although at the time I thought I'd survive breast cancer, I still jumped and bought the max.
That turned out to be a pretty good decision. Now my family will get $125,000 upon my death.
(I didn't like the way my husband's eyes lit up when I told him that.)
I called my benefits department to find out how to manage it and they sent me a slew of paperwork to keep for when I needed it. I received it Friday, glanced at it and put it on the coffee table. Then my family and I went out for an enjoyable and hilarious evening of Defending the Caveman.
When we walked in the house, look what I found.
Simple Dog struck again. She ate my insurance paperwork.
She loves me.
I can't wait to call the district and explain why I need the paperwork again. I bet it's first time they truthfully heard "My dog ate my homework."
I'm taking that as a sign I won't need it for a long, long time.