I like to think I’m good with money. A saver. Frugal. The occasional nice treat. Set yourself up for fun tomorrow.
Since my diagnosis that probably hasn’t changed much. I still seek out value. Perhaps I’ll have a street coffee a little more often these days. Obviously a trip away every other week as well. The nice treat is more than occasional.
The statistics say I’ll die before the redundancy pay is gone. Even with this thought in mind, 14% of us get to five years after diagnosis without departing this mortal coil. A few months after that moment I can access my pension pot and start reducing the kids’ inheritance.
I suspect that 14% figure is going to improve a little. New drugs. Proton therapy. Things being developed all the time. The odds remain massively against me but if I’m alive and penniless with access to my pension at 55 I have some decisions to make.
Buy a house? That wouldn’t leave me quite so much to live off to a ripe old age. In fact my mindset today, after a lifetime wanting to be and being a homeowner, is that I don’t think I need it in any future I may have. I might feel differently in 2023 but for now renting a room or shacking up with a rich widow is probably a better option. I’d be a great catch for a wealthy widow woman!
If they turned round to me at that stage and said “we’ve cured you and you’re guaranteed another thirty years” I’d be happy. But that might just trigger a raid on the pension fund for property purchase. Which might need a job for a few years to replenish the fund to ensure I can live that longer life at a good standard.
It’s a conundrum that one day I hope to face. For now I can chill, travel and spend quite freely – even if my value instinct remains keen. There’s still a very slim chance I’ll return to a more conventional lifestyle. Surviving for decades might spoil the fun, but is my preferred option!