I Saved And Planned For A Long One. Then I Heard From My Doctor.
By Jonathan Clements
This won’t come as a big surprise: Dying makes you look at the world in a different way—the world of money included. Among friends and family, I’m known for hard work and self-discipline. I spent almost two decades at The Wall Street Journal, churning out personal finance columns every week. I saved so diligently that I could have retired at age 51, but instead opted to write books and launch a personal finance website. My self-control extends to exercise: I’ve run or bicycled pretty much every day since 1995.
What was my reward for this life of industry, frugality and clean living? In May 2024, at age 61, I got an out-of-the-blue diagnosis of cancer, the result of a defective gene. The cancer had metastasized from my lung to my chest, liver and brain. My oncologist said I might have a year to live. I’m hoping for a tad longer because my body has responded well to treatment. Still, it’s only a matter of time before cancer gets the upper hand.
In the meantime, I find myself wandering through life with a different mindset from almost everybody else. How so? Here are 19 ways that my thinking and my finances have been transformed by my diagnosis.
1. I spent nearly my entire adult life saving like crazy so I could retire in comfort—and yet, faced with my terminal illness, I have no plans to retire. Instead, I want to keep doing what I’ve been doing for years: getting up early, making coffee, exercising, writing and editing, napping after lunch, taking an afternoon walk, enjoying an evening glass of wine. These are the things that bring me pleasure each day, and I have no desire to stop now.
2. Do I regret my decades of frugality, including previously living for 20 years in a modest house I never much liked? Far from it. The money I saved won’t go toward my retirement, but it still bought me a lot of happiness—because it allowed me to avoid financial worries for much of my adult life.
3. I could spend with reckless abandon now, but my old frugality persists. My partner, Elaine, and I had been living together for four years and were already engaged when I got my diagnosis. We married four days later, partly because she won’t qualify for Social Security survivor benefits unless I’m still alive nine months after our wedding. Since then, we’ve taken a few special trips, and we have a few more planned. But I’ll only open up my wallet so far. You won’t find me paying $5,000 to fly business class to Europe.
4. Never an enthusiastic shopper, I’m now even less inclined to buy new things. Last fall, Elaine insisted I purchase new shoes for my son’s December 2024 wedding. I wear those shoes whenever I get the chance—because it’s the only way I could justify the cost.
5. Gifting has become a top financial goal. One reason I’m not spending like crazy: I want to make sure I bequeath a healthy sum to Elaine and my two children, now in their 30s, from my previous marriage. I also made some financial gifts right away, including writing large checks to my kids and funding 529 college savings plans for my two grandsons.
6. I’ve long invested aggressively, keeping 80 percent or more of my portfolio in stock-index funds. Now that I know it’s likely I won’t live more than another year or two, I’m even more aggressive. Why? I’m no longer investing for my retirement. Instead, I’m investing for my heirs, and their time horizon is far longer than mine.
7. Because old age is no longer in the cards, all kinds of issues are off the table. I don’t have to fret over future long-term care costs, or whether to choose original Medicare or Medicare Advantage, or how to minimize my retirement tax bill. Instead, my top priority is making sure everything is in good shape for my heirs.
8. As of my 62nd birthday in January of this year, I could have applied for Social Security. But I won’t. My goal is to get Elaine a healthy stream of Social Security benefits. After much research—including a consultation with the developer of opensocialsecurity.com, a free Social Security strategy calculator—I figured out that in our situation, I should skip claiming. Instead, Elaine will claim survivor benefits based on my earnings record when I die. Once she turns 70, she’ll swap to a benefit based on her own record.
9. I thought my financial affairs were well organized. I was kidding myself. I’ve spent months shredding old tax returns, ripping up investment statements and organizing what remains. I fear that if I don’t throw out unneeded paperwork, my family will think it’s important—and I will have bequeathed them unnecessary confusion.
10. There’s always more to throw away. I’ve moved four times since 2011, shedding possessions on each occasion. Yet I keep finding more things to toss or give away. My 13 years of downsizing have taught me to be ruthless. The fact is, there’s nothing that I’ve unloaded over the past 13 years that I wish I could have back.
11. For years, I’ve been carting around a box of old mail: notes from old girlfriends, Christmas cards from 1986, letters I got while at college. Mixed in there was some really bad poetry I wrote. Did I carefully review everything in the box? Hardly. I tore up most items after a quick glance and added them to the recycling bin. Am I glad my kids will never see all this stuff? You bet.
12. My finances were pretty simple, but I’ve been simplifying them even more. I’ve closed two of my four credit cards, liquidated a small IRA I inherited from my father, and folded a solo Roth 401(k) into my Roth IRA. All this is a whole lot easier for me to do now than it will be after my death, when family members will have to produce death certificates and prove they have the authority to act.
13. I’ve added Elaine to my various insurance policies and made her the joint account holder on my two checking accounts. One of those checking accounts is debited for all utilities—gas, water, electricity, inter-net, cell phones—so it’ll be easy for her to take over the household finances.
14. Two days after I was diagnosed with cancer, I sat down with Elaine and my children to walk them through my estate plan. I quickly realized one conversation wouldn’t be enough. Stuff that was second nature to a financial nerd like me was baffling to them—things like the difference between traditional and Roth IRAs and what a “step-up in cost basis” means. Since then, I’ve fielded countless questions from Elaine and my kids.
15. Even as I tidy up my affairs, I’m also getting the house fixed up, including taking on a two-month bathroom remodeling project. I’ve learned that this is an affliction that often hits men confronting their mortality: They want to make sure all is in good order for their spouse or partner.
16. Time has always been more valuable than money, and never more so than right now. I want to devote each day to the things that I really care about, while minimizing annoyances. What if contractors or customer service reps are being unresponsive? If necessary, I’ll play the C card, telling them I don’t have long to live. Yes, it’s surprisingly effective.
17. As news of my cancer has spread, I’ve been inundated with countless messages. If I read every book about cancer that’s been recommended to me or agreed to meet with everybody who wanted to visit, I’d have no time for the things that matter to me. The good news: When a dying man says “No,” people tend to listen.
18. I still want to make a difference in the lives of others. That’s why I continue to write and edit every day. In return, I end each day feeling fulfilled and with that pleasant sense of progress that makes me happy.
19. I refuse to feel angry about my bad luck or despondent over the years I’ll never enjoy. Instead, I’m determined to make the most of each day. I’ve long thought happiness has three key ingredients: a sense of financial security, time with family and friends, and doing work I love. My diagnosis has made me even more focused on those three things.
Every few months, I have a brain MRI and a body scan to see whether the cancer has spread. Every three weeks, I get blood drawn, which may offer a warning sign of trouble. Someday—maybe next month, maybe next year—the results won’t be in my favor.
Until then, Elaine and I will continue to make plans for the four or five months that lie ahead, but no more than that. It’s the frugality thing again. We can cancel hotel rooms and rental cars without penalty. But changing airline tickets and cruises can be costly. And I sure don’t want to be confronted by both death and cancellation fees.
Jonathan Clements is the founder of www.HumbleDollar.com and the former personal finance columnist for The Wall Street Journal.
