Six months you say. Wow, not very long.

What should I do? No, where will I go?

Yes, where will I go?

Dad's on Jekyll Island so I'll go there.

Yes, Rufus, my dog, and I will go to Jekyll Island.

And, the three of us will have a grand old time.

I've had a charmed life, always, since I was a child. Don't know what it's like not to be in the public eye.

At three I caught a fish, and the fish and I made the front page!

When I was sixteen I was awarded a commendation from NASA for my rockets and mice that flew like the wind. A rocket, a mouse, a transmitter in the rocket, a receiver on the ground and an electrocardiogram to record the brave mouse's heartbeat. Yep, NASA took interest.

At seventeen, when the big three automotive giants were attempting to solve the automotive pollution problem, I solved it with propane and an afterburner.

Those were the days ...

Then at twenty I invented the rear window louver for various import and domestic automobiles and founded McCune Technology.

Being in the light has been the norm. And to think the curtain may be closing.

Sixty. On Earth Day 2014, I'll be 60!

It's been a fun life. Made millions of objects ... touched millions of lives ... met some really great friends.

God, Family and Friends. Makes one feel like a Toyota commercial, "I couldn't ask for anything more ..."

Yep, been a pretty good life.

And Rufus, come to think of it, my dog with almost 200,000 followers on Facebook, is more in the light than me. Rufus is pretty special to me and he's great fun to be around.

Eating wings is also fun. Just about everything can be fun, I guess, because life is what you make of it.

I've accomplished enough. I would have done, or will maybe do, a little more ... but, like Picasso, know when to stop.

It has been a great life.

Finally, a good night's sleep and a new day awaits. The rest of my life is off to a great start. First on the agenda is getting my affairs in order. Don't want to leave a bunch of turmoil and stuff for those left behind.

Funny, how I suspected ... well, something ... and began this exodus a few months ago. I sold my Lotus and accepted an offer on a property that I had hoped to build on; a property that had held some long-cherished dreams.

But all possessions are like anchors on a ship. In the end, a loved one desires to have one, it ends up at an auction, an antique store, a thrift store, given to a stranger, or dumped in a landfill.

I begin by opening drawers. Let's see what we have. The best thing is to have separate boxes for sorting ... classify and decide. ... or just say the hell with it and throw all of this accumulated shit away. ... yes, just leave it to the vultures. That wasn't very nice. Everyone, for the most part, has been pretty good to me.

My possessions ... what do I desire to keep? Keep for what? For whom? A funny idea flickers through my mind: I'll spend the next six months, the last six months, getting rid of accumulated stuff. In the end I'll have peace knowing that all of the chains from all of the anchors have snapped; and, yes, I will be free. Like that old Negro Spiritual, "Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last."

I push the drawer closed and call out, "Rufus, let's go. Ready for a walk?" My faithful companion stares down at me from the bed, hovering over my smiling face. In a flash, off the bed and onto the rug he flies.

I slept great last night! Normally I wake at four and my mind immediately comes to consciousness. Like a flash on a camera ... pop ... I'm wide awake. I start mentally nursing and rehearsing my latest drama. Now, with the possibility of passing on in the near future, there's not much left to worry about. I must be at peace.

The latest Subaru commercial shows an automobile, with its front end completely demolished, sitting on a flatbed tow truck. People at the salvage yard survey the damage and say, "They lived." Then, the family is seen getting out of their new Subaru and the announcer says, "They lived."

Yesterday I saw a minivan that had the hood and front seat pushed into the rear seat. "They died."

To have six months to live, or to die in the twinkling of an eye ... wow; to die at such a rate of speed and time, like the major impact of a car crash or an explosion, is unthinkable. But to be given six months ... now that's a gift.

It allows time for you to get everything together, say your goodbyes, then the last month vanish and die. Compared to the Holocaust, 911, Pearl Harbor or jumping off the Titanic into freezing waters, the thought of an orchestrated death makes sense and is a privilege. I'm sure those who died in catastrophic events, given the choice, would have opted for the six months.

Yesterday I received the information from my urologist, and this morning I had a scheduled appointment to discuss potentially selling my business in the near future. Everything is working out very well, like all the stars are lining up.

I remember having thoughts of suicide in my darkest hours over the years, but I was so busy then I couldn't fit into my schedule and moved on. Suicide is the solution that many people take to cease unbearable mental, physical, or both pains. I've never judged victims of suicide ... I would not desire to feel what they felt. I have no plans of suicide ... at this time.

Most likely I won't make it to the end of the year; did the math and it would be eight months. Healthcare professionals usually tell the patient, "You have a year ... or six months." Yeah, they like to keep it simple. Looks like around Halloween for me. Nothing like planning one's death!

I enjoy playing slot machines. The chance of winning is not as great as the odds of losing; but, still, there lies a chance of winning — and the jackpot. It's a very short-lived success story and lots of fun, and we all know "Everybody loves a winner!"

In the end days will I continue gambling? Most likely. When I'm gambling, all struggles vanish and it's just me and the slot machine. Yep, "Everybody loves a winner!"

I've won and I've lost. Truth be known, I've lost more than I've won. It's hard to beat the house and easy to play back winnings with the anticipation of hitting big on a slot machine.

So let's take prostate cancer — is it a gamble or a statistic? I often say that cancer is five percent genetic and ninety-five percent influenced demographic.

In my case, I do need to take into account that my grandfather died of prostate cancer at 59, and my father also had prostate cancer at 59. My God! Is history repeating itself? Pull that slot machine hard and fast!

I've always heard the pain of cancer is an internal burn. Possibly like cooking tissue. Like living in a microwave on defrost ... a very slow defrost. On the other hand, microwaving could kill the fast replicating malignant cancer cells. Just bet it would ... but then, it might kill the good cells too. So funny how all of this breaks down to bad cells that form bad tissue. And this is the result of bad information being transferred between the cells prior to dividing. Yep, bad stuff ... "Cancer. It's bad stuff."

So, we counteract the bad with the good, and this is the answer: Out with the old and in with the new. New fresh cells that will transfer correct information.

My regret will be leaving Rufus, Jonah, my grandson, and my still...