Good News

Most people don’t know exactly when they will die. They go on living their lives as if it’s gonna last forever, never thinking about the end. My life is ending today, at 12:00 pm, to be exact.

Six months ago, Doctor Faux told me I have six months to live. I pulled my smartphone and swiped the months on the calendar app six times. It was 12:26 pm on June 8 when I sat at the doctor’s office and received the bad news, so I added the event “Life is over” at 12:26 on December 8. It didn’t conflict with any other appointment. The doctor who was quite confident until then stammered. “You… you… know six months is… is… is just an estimation… It… it… it could happen earlier… or later… it’s not an exact science…” I nodded understandably and corrected the event schedule to 12:00.

After hearing the bad news, I learned from Google about the Kübler-Ross model. According to Google, or actually Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, there are five stages of grief. I was in stage one - denial. I drove to work as if I went back from a long lunch break. Doctor Faux must have been wrong. There was nothing wrong with me.

On my way home, I moved into the second stage - anger. I blamed everyone - the reckless drivers that almost hit me, the slow drivers who kept me from going, even the traffic lights that were wasting my whole goddamn life on a red light. The anger continued at home toward the refrigerator and my poor food choices.

The rage transformed quickly into the third stage of grief - bargaining. I promised to change my lifestyle and eat more vegetables. I threw away all the junk food. Most of it was spoiled, anyway. I swore I would be a better person if it turned out that the tests were wrong.

Thinking about becoming a better person drew me to melancholy. That was the fourth stage - depression. I knew I would die. I knew I could never be a better person because I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t want to die so soon before accomplishing anything of value in my short and meaningless life. I knew no-one would miss me or even notice I was gone.

Luckily the depression stage was over pretty soon. I quickly moved to the final stage (well, not final-final. I wasn’t dead just yet) - acceptance. Dying was inevitable, so I might as well take advantage of the situation and make the precious few months I have left meaningful.

Suddenly I felt awake like I have never felt before. I could actually do all the stuff I have always dreamt of without thinking about the consequences, and without thinking now was not a good time. Now was a perfect time. It was the only time.

The first step towards the end of my life was to take out my phone and open the To-Do app. I needed to compile my bucket list. After scratching my head for half an hour, I came up with a short list that would allow me to die happily ever after.

1. Quit my job and tell my boss what I think of him.
2. Tell Rebecca that I have always loved her. 
3. Learn scuba-diving.
4. Go on a road trip
5. Become a hero.

The first task was the most rewarding. I stormed into my boss’s office, who was on his lunch break and almost gagged on his sandwich. He sat there for 15 minutes with his jaw wide open and listened to me telling him how unprofessional, in-human, low-life, suck-up, ass-kisser he was. When I left the room, all my former colleagues were standing in silence behind the door. Apparently, in my excitement, I spoke louder than I thought, and everyone heard. They all looked me in the eyes in astonishment, and I could see some of them clapping for me in their mind. I suddenly felt pity for them. They were all dead inside. I was more alive than ever.

The second task was the hardest.

Rebecca was a girl I knew since middle school. I fell in love with her the first moment I laid my eyes on her. She stood at the classroom door with long flowing red hair and a sweet embarrassed smile, scanning the class and waiting for someone to invite the new girl to join their table. I shied away quickly as soon as our eyes met. I was too nervous to talk to her through middle school and too scared through high school. I watched her dating other guys from school and dancing with some jerk in prom. I continued stalking her through Facebook. I have found her profile, and from time to time, I would look at her recent public photos. I couldn’t even get enough nerve up to befriend her on Facebook. 

Suddenly, about five years ago, I miraculously received a friend request from Rebecca! My heart was pounding. For a moment, I imagined her searching for my Facebook profile and browsing my photos, but that moment was over. Mr. Zuckerberg must have pushed my profile on her wall, knowing how much time I spent browsing her public photos and videos. My finger was shaking when I accepted her friend request. Suddenly her whole life appeared in front of me in her Facebook profile, and not just a few public posts. She was even more beautiful in her recent vacation photos. She looked radiant with her husband and three children… She suddenly sent me an IM “Hey, long time no see…” I replied casually. We talked from time to time on Facebook, even arranged a meeting that never happened, but our conversations never passed the “What are you up to these days?” I couldn’t tell her what she meant to me. Our last casual Facebook conversation was three years ago.

For the first time in my pitifully sad life, I picked up the phone and dialed her number. She was surprised but agreed to meet me the next day in a coffee shop.

I arrived early and was already in my second cup before she came. She was happy to see me and curious about what was so crucial for us to meet three years after our last talk.

I didn’t let our meeting fall into that boring casual chat again, so I started immediately. I held Rebecca’s hand, took a deep breath, and revealed my feelings to her.

She looked shocked and speechless. She pulled back her hand and lashed out, “I don’t know what to say. What do you expect me to do? Why are you telling me now?”

I didn’t want to tell her I was going to die. I didn’t want her pity. I said I expected nothing from her, I just couldn’t keep that secret anymore.

“You know I’m married,” she said, “I liked you too, in school. I would have gone out with you back then, but you are twenty years late… Sorry, I have to go back to my family.” And then she left. I never saw her nor talked to her ever again. I wonder if she would come to my funeral.

The third task was both fun and scary.

Deep-sea diving always intrigued me, but I was too scared to try. Perhaps because I almost drowned when I was six years old, during a family vacation in Mexico, that ended up with me getting rescued and my parents getting divorced. It’s amazing how having an expiration date gave me the courage and confidence to live the rest of my short life.

After completing a two weeks course, I received my advanced open water scuba diver certificate. Diving opened a whole new world for me. I realized I prefer the weightless, tranquil, and magnificent underworld of fishes, corals, and sharks more than the upper world of people.

Soon after completing the third task, I started planning my first and last road-trip. I marked all the exciting diving spots within the US and embarked on a 4 months journey around the USA. From my Long Island house on the East Coast to the West Coast, from north to south. I set my final destination to the Florida Keys. It would be nicer to dive during December in a warm tropical climate. It would be a pleasant climate to die.

My last 4 months were amazing. I dived at the most breathtaking places, explored shipwrecks, met with the most fascinating and weird people along the way, who were so different from the office zombies I used to hang with. I didn’t even think much about Rebecca anymore.

As my journey was ending, I was more concerned about my last bucket list task. I set myself a goal to die a hero, but I hadn’t had a clue how to start. I tried to force myself on people who seemed like they needed help. It usually ended up with them misinterpreting my intentions and cursing me away. I even followed a sheriff car in some Texas town, figuring I would help law enforcement staff fight crime. I ended up spending the night in jail, which was also something I haven’t done before, so I added it to my bucket list with a smiley emoji sign.

December 8 arrived so fast. It was my last day alive. I couldn’t spend my last night sleeping, so I was up all night partying. In the morning, everybody else from the Upper Key Diving Club went to sleep or dive, but I just sat at the beach and reflected on my life. I was sorry that I only started living when I began to die. But I was happy with my last six months, though I was a bit disappointed about not accomplishing my final task.

Suddenly I saw smoke rising from the opposite shore and heard a series of explosions from a distance. It was the local nuclear power plant. I jumped in my car and arrived at the facility gate in 30 minutes.

The gate was closed, but there was a busy white tent nearby, so I went inside. Everybody was wearing yellow hazmat suits and gas masks. A fireman captain was firing orders on the phone, something about an evacuation. “I want to help,” I waved my arms in front of his masked face, but he only screamed at me and told me to go away. A nice scientist lady informed me that there was an explosion that shook the reactor and created fractures in the steam generator and the pressurizer, causing radioactivity to leak outside the reactor. The reactor might overheat and melt down. I didn’t grasp most of the technical terms. Still, I understood they lost control over the reactor, and it could only be shut down manually from inside the containment structure. I told them I can help, but the captain sent his men to throw me out. I dropped my phone and took a handheld radio from the table on my way out.

I couldn’t go through the closed and guarded gate, so I took my diving gear from the car and jumped into the canal that surrounded the facility. I have found a passage underwater and hurried to the reactor chamber. “Hello,” I said to the radio, “I’m inside the reactor, tell me what to do.” At first, I heard only curses and shouting, but a moment later, the lovely scientist lady answered the radio and told me exactly what to do. 

It was boiling hot, and I felt like my skin is melting, but I did exactly what she said. I pulled some levers and turned some wheels until the surrounding noise finally stopped.

After a moment of silence, I heard the captain on the radio. He was polite and much calmer. “Son, I don’t know why you did it, but you have just saved many lives. You are a true hero.”

I was happy. I was coughing blood, but I felt I was finally ready to die.

“Is there something I can do for you now, son?” He asked. I asked him to take the phone I left in the tent, and mark the checkbox on my last task. He told me I’ve got a text message and asked if I want him to read it for me. It was a short message from doctor Faux. “I was wrong. Your tests are good. Meet me tomorrow morning.”

“What is it?” The captain asked.

“That is good news,” I said, and at precisely 12:26 pm, I closed my eyes for the last time.