Translator: Mirjana Čutura Reviewer: Peter van de Ven
My name is Jeremie Saunders,
I’m 29 years old,
and three months from now, I will breathe my very last breath.
At least, this is what I’ve been told for the majority of my adult life.
And this fact has had the most incredibly profound effect on my life.
I live with a chronic and terminal lung disease called cystic fibrosis,
and a very real part in living with cystic fibrosis is knowing
that my time here, on this Earth,
is much more limited than your average person.
At only 29 years old, I’m far too aware
that I only have so many long, rich, deep breaths left.
My lungs currently function at about the 60% range, which isn’t bad.
You know, I learned back in high school that 60% is considered a passing grade.
So, hey. Things could be worse.
But for a moment, just consider what it means
when you apply 60% functionality to your ability to breathe.
Actually, you know what?
Try it with me.
All together. Take one full breath in.
And a full breath out.
(Exhales)
Now, let’s call that your ability to breathe at 100% capacity.
Let’s do it again. Full breath in.
Full breath out.
Feels good, doesn’t it?
Let’s take it back about 50% – 50% on your inhale.
Ready? Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
(Exhales)
Let’s do 50% again. Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Let’s take away another 10%. Inhale 40%.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Thirty percent in.
Pause.
Full exhale.
Again, 30%.
Full exhale.
Now 20% in.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Okay, breathe easy.
Phew.
So for the last ten years or so,
my lungs have been on this slow but very steady decline.
And statistically speaking, it’s due to this decline in lung function
that’s probably going to inevitably lead me to my death.
And for most of you who are not suffering from a fatal lung disease,
this isn’t very relatable.
However, what is very much relatable
is that not one single person in this room
has the ability to escape that one thing that we all share in common –
death.
You are all going to die.
Everyone you’ve ever known,
everyone you’ve ever loved –
they’re all going to die.
Your mother is going to die.
Your father will die.
Your daughter, your son is going to die.
Your husband, your wife,
all of your friends, all of them.
Just like me, every single one of you, with every breath that you take,
you get one breath closer to taking your very last breath.
But this shouldn’t come as a surprise.
We all, at one point in our lives, come to realize that life is finite.
And because your impending demise is for the most part out of your control
and assumed to be so far off into the future
that there really is no need to dwell upon the matter.
So in other words, you all accept the fact that you’re going to die,
but today, I challenge you
to embrace the fact that you’re all going to die.
If you met a genie in a bottle,
and instead of offering you three wishes,
that genie gave you the opportunity to learn what your expiry date would be,
would you take him up on it?
Nineteen years ago, I met that genie,
and he didn’t give me an opportunity to choose.
The year was 1998.
I’m this ten year old little goofball running through the world,
and my life boils down to four very important priorities:
Frosted Flakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,
trying to unlock Smoke in Mortal Kombat 2,
trying to convince my parents
to let me stay late enough on a Sunday night to watch The X-Files,
and, of course, The World Wrestling Federation.
(Laughter)
What a life, eh?
Well, who am I kidding?
That basically sums up my life as it is today.
The only difference is, when I was ten, I was blissfully unaware
that cystic fibrosis was actually a fatal disease.
Back then, to me it was just an everyday nuisance,
a general pain in my ass,
but otherwise, life was good.
Until I met that genie.
He presented himself to me
in form of a pamphlet titled: “All about cystic fibrosis.”
And in the pamphlet, I came across a sentence,
and little did I know that sentence would go on to change my life
in ways that I could never have imagined.
The sentence read, “Cystic fibrosis is a fatal, genetic disease.”
Now, as a ten-year-old, unbeatable Mortal Kombat god,
I was fully aware of what the word fatal meant.
It was the next portion of that sentence
that offered up that roundhouse kick straight to the gut.
The average life expectancy of someone living with cystic fibrosis
is thirty years of age.
That moment …
was a life changer.
Everything I thought I knew was all of the sudden flipped upside down.
My ten-year-old logic interpreted this new information by thinking,
“Everything I’ve done in my life, I can only do two more times.”
This moment of realizing that death is a very real, very scary concept
is not uncommon.
I’m sure that most of you in this room have been touched by death in this way.
Maybe it was due to the death of a childhood pet,
or the sudden or unexpected death of a family member or friend.
And maybe you yourself had a close brush with death.
And maybe not.
Maybe you’ve gone this far in your life
without having to truly face the inevitability of it.
However, when we do face that harsh reality of death,
we all process that information in our own way.
And for me when I was ten, it was met with fear,
anger,
rejection,
avoidance.
It’s so rare that we process the concept of death willingly with open arms.
So when I was thinking about, you know,
what I wanted to speak to you all today about,
I decided to do a little bit of time travel
back to my younger years:
How did I feel
about this concept of living life with a shorter life expectancy?
And I’m really lucky to say that I have a couple of those cliche proud parents –
you know, the ones that refuse to throw out any of my old school work –
and so I was able to dig up this gem.
It’s an excerpt from an autobiography that I wrote when I was 16 years old.
Part Four: My Future
When it comes to thinking about my future and what I want to do with my life
when it comes to getting married and having kids,
I don’t really know what to think.
About 40% of children with cystic fibrosis live beyond the age of 18.
The average life span for those who life to adulthood is 30 to 33.
If you think about it, what’s the point of getting married
if I’m only going to live for a few years through that marriage.
And having a kid would be pointless
unless I want them to grow up over half their life without a dad.
These kinds of things are hard to think about,
and it makes me feel kind of useless.
Now, I know what you’re thinking,
“What a drama queen!”
Right?
Well, fast forward to the present day, 13 years later,
my perspective of what it means to live with cystic fibrosis,
my perspective on death has shifted massively.
It might surprise some of you to hear this,
but I can honestly stand up here today and say that without a doubt
cystic fibrosis is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
No longer does that sentence,
“Cystic fibrosis is a fatal, genetic disease”
carry the weight of fear,
rejection,
anger.
Instead, it’s become this powerful source of inspiration;
it drives me.
You see, my unavoidable faith opened up my eyes so wide
that it fundamentally changed what it means to live day in, day out,
moment to moment.
Cystic fibrosis has essentially given me
the impetus to not only accept my own mortality
but to embrace my own mortality.
And with that
comes this extraordinary sense of freedom.
And I can take that freedom and sprinkle it into my life
by living like nothing is unattainable.
I can take that big, scary concept of death,
and instead of fear it,
use it as a tool to motivate myself to live life to the fullest.
I honestly think that this piece of writing
played a huge role in that shift in perspective.
Once I was able to take the words and put them on paper
I could finally see that “Yes,
I do accept the fact that I’m going to die,”
but that acceptance is shrouded in fear.
And so right there, I had two choices:
let the fear consume me …
or use it as a tool to strive.
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
I just made that up.
No, I’m kidding. It’s a quote from Mark Twain.
And I love that quote; I love it. Let me hit you with it one more time.
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
I freaking love that quote
because I feel like it almost perfectly describes this journey that I’ve been on.
I’m beyond proud
to stand here today and to tell you that by the age of 29,
an age my parents were told I would never live to see the day,
I have accomplished a buttload of amazing things.
I was the host of my own children’s television show on CBC,
called Artzooka!
Aired in 50 countries across the world.
And because of my work, I won a Gemini award
and a Canadian Screen Award.
I hosted a documentary where I followed astronaut Chris Hadfield around the world.
We went to Russia; we went to Kazakhstan.
I watched him train
for his mission to command the international space station.
I got to live out one of my old time life dreams.
I was killed off in a horror movie, sucked up by an alien.
It was so badass.
I went on a three-month white water kayaking expedition.
Living out of the tent. Hawking off 40 foot waterfalls in Mexico.
Something I never thought I’d have the physical ability to do.
I had indeed fallen in love and got married.
She’s cute.
(Laughter)
Along with my two best friends,
we started an internationally recognized podcast called Sickboy.
We pull in 1,5 million downloads a year.
And together we speak with thousands of people
about my experience in living with cystic fibrosis,
and to others who live with chronic or terminal illness
in order to destigmatize illness
and build community and support for those who are sick.
And somewhere within this crazy, fortunate whirlwind of events,
I think I attained my greatest achievement of all.
At only 18 years old,
I was awarded Employee of the Month at an adult videostore
for my ability to upsell the most lube.
(Laughter)
My mother was mortified.
(Laughter)
And that is not a joke.
(Laughter)
So how did I get here?
Right?
How did I go from that emotionally distraught teenager
to the young, driven, successful lube merchant you see before you today?
(Laughter)
It’s because I wholeheartedly believed in that expiry date.
I’ve lived my live
as if it’s going to end three months from now.
I’ve tried to cram in as much life as I can in my allotted 30 years
so that statistically speaking
when I should be knocking on death’s door,
regardless of whether or not I’m actually close to death,
I can stand back,
look at all the things I’ve done and say,
“I did it.”
I stopped fearing life.
And therefore lived a life with no fear of death.
I was the man who lived fully.
And here’s the beautiful part about all of this.
Because you do not need a diagnosis of a terminal illness
to adopt this view on life.
I said it earlier,
“You’re all going to die.”
Just like me, you all have an expiry date
although yours might just be a little less clear.
But what if it didn’t have to be like that?
Set your expiry date now.
How long do you think you have to live?
Sixty years?
Hmm.
For most of you, probably not.
How about 50 years?
Thirty years?
Ten?
What if you had five years left?
What if you had three months?
The exciting part about all of this is that nobody, including myself,
has no idea what that number really is.
We hear people say it all the time,
“Yeah, I could die today.
I could walk outside and get hit by a bus.”
Perfect.
So then, how do you want to live
in those moments between right now and the face of that bus?
Do you want to live those moments with a little more compassion?
More courage?
More vulnerability?
More love?
How about a little more laughter?
My name’s Jeremie Saunders.
And three months from now
when I hit 30,
after I’ve squeezed out as much life as I can,
after I take my “very last breath,”
everything from that moment forward is bonus time.
So how about you?
Start your clock today and ask yourself,
“How do you want to finish your life?”
Thank you.
(Applause) (Cheers)
My name is Jeremie Saunders,
I’m 29 years old,
and three months from now, I will breathe my very last breath.
At least, this is what I’ve been told for the majority of my adult life.
And this fact has had the most incredibly profound effect on my life.
I live with a chronic and terminal lung disease called cystic fibrosis,
and a very real part in living with cystic fibrosis is knowing
that my time here, on this Earth,
is much more limited than your average person.
At only 29 years old, I’m far too aware
that I only have so many long, rich, deep breaths left.
My lungs currently function at about the 60% range, which isn’t bad.
You know, I learned back in high school that 60% is considered a passing grade.
So, hey. Things could be worse.
But for a moment, just consider what it means
when you apply 60% functionality to your ability to breathe.
Actually, you know what?
Try it with me.
All together. Take one full breath in.
And a full breath out.
(Exhales)
Now, let’s call that your ability to breathe at 100% capacity.
Let’s do it again. Full breath in.
Full breath out.
Feels good, doesn’t it?
Let’s take it back about 50% – 50% on your inhale.
Ready? Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
(Exhales)
Let’s do 50% again. Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Let’s take away another 10%. Inhale 40%.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Thirty percent in.
Pause.
Full exhale.
Again, 30%.
Full exhale.
Now 20% in.
Pause.
Exhale fully.
Okay, breathe easy.
Phew.
So for the last ten years or so,
my lungs have been on this slow but very steady decline.
And statistically speaking, it’s due to this decline in lung function
that’s probably going to inevitably lead me to my death.
And for most of you who are not suffering from a fatal lung disease,
this isn’t very relatable.
However, what is very much relatable
is that not one single person in this room
has the ability to escape that one thing that we all share in common –
death.
You are all going to die.
Everyone you’ve ever known,
everyone you’ve ever loved –
they’re all going to die.
Your mother is going to die.
Your father will die.
Your daughter, your son is going to die.
Your husband, your wife,
all of your friends, all of them.
Just like me, every single one of you, with every breath that you take,
you get one breath closer to taking your very last breath.
But this shouldn’t come as a surprise.
We all, at one point in our lives, come to realize that life is finite.
And because your impending demise is for the most part out of your control
and assumed to be so far off into the future
that there really is no need to dwell upon the matter.
So in other words, you all accept the fact that you’re going to die,
but today, I challenge you
to embrace the fact that you’re all going to die.
If you met a genie in a bottle,
and instead of offering you three wishes,
that genie gave you the opportunity to learn what your expiry date would be,
would you take him up on it?
Nineteen years ago, I met that genie,
and he didn’t give me an opportunity to choose.
The year was 1998.
I’m this ten year old little goofball running through the world,
and my life boils down to four very important priorities:
Frosted Flakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,
trying to unlock Smoke in Mortal Kombat 2,
trying to convince my parents
to let me stay late enough on a Sunday night to watch The X-Files,
and, of course, The World Wrestling Federation.
(Laughter)
What a life, eh?
Well, who am I kidding?
That basically sums up my life as it is today.
The only difference is, when I was ten, I was blissfully unaware
that cystic fibrosis was actually a fatal disease.
Back then, to me it was just an everyday nuisance,
a general pain in my ass,
but otherwise, life was good.
Until I met that genie.
He presented himself to me
in form of a pamphlet titled: “All about cystic fibrosis.”
And in the pamphlet, I came across a sentence,
and little did I know that sentence would go on to change my life
in ways that I could never have imagined.
The sentence read, “Cystic fibrosis is a fatal, genetic disease.”
Now, as a ten-year-old, unbeatable Mortal Kombat god,
I was fully aware of what the word fatal meant.
It was the next portion of that sentence
that offered up that roundhouse kick straight to the gut.
The average life expectancy of someone living with cystic fibrosis
is thirty years of age.
That moment …
was a life changer.
Everything I thought I knew was all of the sudden flipped upside down.
My ten-year-old logic interpreted this new information by thinking,
“Everything I’ve done in my life, I can only do two more times.”
This moment of realizing that death is a very real, very scary concept
is not uncommon.
I’m sure that most of you in this room have been touched by death in this way.
Maybe it was due to the death of a childhood pet,
or the sudden or unexpected death of a family member or friend.
And maybe you yourself had a close brush with death.
And maybe not.
Maybe you’ve gone this far in your life
without having to truly face the inevitability of it.
However, when we do face that harsh reality of death,
we all process that information in our own way.
And for me when I was ten, it was met with fear,
anger,
rejection,
avoidance.
It’s so rare that we process the concept of death willingly with open arms.
So when I was thinking about, you know,
what I wanted to speak to you all today about,
I decided to do a little bit of time travel
back to my younger years:
How did I feel
about this concept of living life with a shorter life expectancy?
And I’m really lucky to say that I have a couple of those cliche proud parents –
you know, the ones that refuse to throw out any of my old school work –
and so I was able to dig up this gem.
It’s an excerpt from an autobiography that I wrote when I was 16 years old.
Part Four: My Future
When it comes to thinking about my future and what I want to do with my life
when it comes to getting married and having kids,
I don’t really know what to think.
About 40% of children with cystic fibrosis live beyond the age of 18.
The average life span for those who life to adulthood is 30 to 33.
If you think about it, what’s the point of getting married
if I’m only going to live for a few years through that marriage.
And having a kid would be pointless
unless I want them to grow up over half their life without a dad.
These kinds of things are hard to think about,
and it makes me feel kind of useless.
Now, I know what you’re thinking,
“What a drama queen!”
Right?
Well, fast forward to the present day, 13 years later,
my perspective of what it means to live with cystic fibrosis,
my perspective on death has shifted massively.
It might surprise some of you to hear this,
but I can honestly stand up here today and say that without a doubt
cystic fibrosis is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
No longer does that sentence,
“Cystic fibrosis is a fatal, genetic disease”
carry the weight of fear,
rejection,
anger.
Instead, it’s become this powerful source of inspiration;
it drives me.
You see, my unavoidable faith opened up my eyes so wide
that it fundamentally changed what it means to live day in, day out,
moment to moment.
Cystic fibrosis has essentially given me
the impetus to not only accept my own mortality
but to embrace my own mortality.
And with that
comes this extraordinary sense of freedom.
And I can take that freedom and sprinkle it into my life
by living like nothing is unattainable.
I can take that big, scary concept of death,
and instead of fear it,
use it as a tool to motivate myself to live life to the fullest.
I honestly think that this piece of writing
played a huge role in that shift in perspective.
Once I was able to take the words and put them on paper
I could finally see that “Yes,
I do accept the fact that I’m going to die,”
but that acceptance is shrouded in fear.
And so right there, I had two choices:
let the fear consume me …
or use it as a tool to strive.
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
I just made that up.
No, I’m kidding. It’s a quote from Mark Twain.
And I love that quote; I love it. Let me hit you with it one more time.
“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
I freaking love that quote
because I feel like it almost perfectly describes this journey that I’ve been on.
I’m beyond proud
to stand here today and to tell you that by the age of 29,
an age my parents were told I would never live to see the day,
I have accomplished a buttload of amazing things.
I was the host of my own children’s television show on CBC,
called Artzooka!
Aired in 50 countries across the world.
And because of my work, I won a Gemini award
and a Canadian Screen Award.
I hosted a documentary where I followed astronaut Chris Hadfield around the world.
We went to Russia; we went to Kazakhstan.
I watched him train
for his mission to command the international space station.
I got to live out one of my old time life dreams.
I was killed off in a horror movie, sucked up by an alien.
It was so badass.
I went on a three-month white water kayaking expedition.
Living out of the tent. Hawking off 40 foot waterfalls in Mexico.
Something I never thought I’d have the physical ability to do.
I had indeed fallen in love and got married.
She’s cute.
(Laughter)
Along with my two best friends,
we started an internationally recognized podcast called Sickboy.
We pull in 1,5 million downloads a year.
And together we speak with thousands of people
about my experience in living with cystic fibrosis,
and to others who live with chronic or terminal illness
in order to destigmatize illness
and build community and support for those who are sick.
And somewhere within this crazy, fortunate whirlwind of events,
I think I attained my greatest achievement of all.
At only 18 years old,
I was awarded Employee of the Month at an adult videostore
for my ability to upsell the most lube.
(Laughter)
My mother was mortified.
(Laughter)
And that is not a joke.
(Laughter)
So how did I get here?
Right?
How did I go from that emotionally distraught teenager
to the young, driven, successful lube merchant you see before you today?
(Laughter)
It’s because I wholeheartedly believed in that expiry date.
I’ve lived my live
as if it’s going to end three months from now.
I’ve tried to cram in as much life as I can in my allotted 30 years
so that statistically speaking
when I should be knocking on death’s door,
regardless of whether or not I’m actually close to death,
I can stand back,
look at all the things I’ve done and say,
“I did it.”
I stopped fearing life.
And therefore lived a life with no fear of death.
I was the man who lived fully.
And here’s the beautiful part about all of this.
Because you do not need a diagnosis of a terminal illness
to adopt this view on life.
I said it earlier,
“You’re all going to die.”
Just like me, you all have an expiry date
although yours might just be a little less clear.
But what if it didn’t have to be like that?
Set your expiry date now.
How long do you think you have to live?
Sixty years?
Hmm.
For most of you, probably not.
How about 50 years?
Thirty years?
Ten?
What if you had five years left?
What if you had three months?
The exciting part about all of this is that nobody, including myself,
has no idea what that number really is.
We hear people say it all the time,
“Yeah, I could die today.
I could walk outside and get hit by a bus.”
Perfect.
So then, how do you want to live
in those moments between right now and the face of that bus?
Do you want to live those moments with a little more compassion?
More courage?
More vulnerability?
More love?
How about a little more laughter?
My name’s Jeremie Saunders.
And three months from now
when I hit 30,
after I’ve squeezed out as much life as I can,
after I take my “very last breath,”
everything from that moment forward is bonus time.
So how about you?
Start your clock today and ask yourself,
“How do you want to finish your life?”
Thank you.
(Applause) (Cheers)
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