It wasn't just money that I wanted to leave for my family

— The way of working I chose for a life without regrets after being diagnosed with cancer

A few years ago, I was on a small boat, harvesting in the middle of falling snow.
Today, I am at my desk in my air-conditioned home, using AI as my partner to build apps, write, and handle my main job.

…I must say, I think I’ve come a long way.

I work as a hardware engineer. I design circuits and build IoT systems.

Originally, I was pushing hard on IoT development to create a new pillar for my company. I had created a prototype system that uses sensors to collect data from the field, and I was looking for someone who could use it. That was when I happened to encounter a certain aquaculture site.

At first, I only intended to help with the system implementation. However, due to certain circumstances, I found myself helping with the aquaculture itself before I knew it. Before I realized it, I had stepped into a world completely outside my field.

Days when I couldn't be called an 'IT salaryman'

The life of living away from my family that began that way was far from what you would call an 'IT salaryman' lifestyle.

I would arrive at the site at 8:00 AM, check the situation, maintain the equipment, and harvest. Since something in the equipment would break almost every day, I would research and fix whatever I didn't understand on the spot. If a hole opened in a boat, I would mix resin under the scorching sun to repair it. In the summer, there were days when I would head out at 5:00 AM before sunrise to harvest, and set nets in the middle of the night. Feeding time was in the evening as the sun was setting. After draining my physical and mental strength, I would finally open my computer after it was completely dark to consult with my team members. I have to admit, it was pretty chaotic (laughs).

The reason I was doing such things wasn't just because I wanted to help out on-site.

The biggest problem in this industry was the lack of successors. Moreover, it seems the reason is less about 'the children not wanting to do it' and more about 'the parents currently doing it not wanting their children to go through such hardship.' Hearing that, I thought there must be a way to change the industry that only an amateur like me could do.

To make it so that even those without strength or inexperienced young people could manage it. Using IT to collect environmental data like water temperature and thinking about feeding based on that. Remotely controlling pumps that were previously operated by walking around the vast site, or automating them on a schedule.

Because I entered the field and truly understood the hardships, I was able to build a system that was needed. I think that was significant.

The day I was told 'It's cancer'

However, perhaps that overexertion took its toll.

I originally had a small inflammation and was told that it could rarely turn into cancer, so I was getting regular checkups. But the site was busy, and the intervals between those hospital visits gradually grew longer.

My honest feeling when I was told it was cancer was, 'Oh, I messed up.'

At first, I was told it was probably around Stage 1, and I underwent surgery. However, after that, it was discovered that it had metastasized to my lymph nodes, making it Stage 4. It is by no means an easy situation.

Even so, it doesn't mean it's all over. There's no point in regretting it now. I had been advancing automation as much as I could, so I decided to take this opportunity to leave the site and spend as much time as possible with my family from now on, making up for the five years I lost while living away from them. That was how I shifted my mindset.

I thought about what I could leave behind

At that moment, the first thing that crossed my mind was my family. I wondered, if I were gone, what would I be able to leave behind?

There were two things I wanted to leave behind.

The first was practical: ensuring my family wouldn't struggle with money or paperwork. Setting aside any sugarcoating, this is a pressing reality.

But there was something else I wanted to leave behind just as much—no, in truth, even more. Something like a 'proof' that I had lived here and spent time with my family. I desperately wanted to leave that behind.

So, before the surgery, I made two sets of preparations.

One was administrative: I organized my modest savings and securities, and recorded contracts and passwords so that my remaining family could easily find them.

The other was a video letter to my family—to my wife, my children, my parents, and my siblings. This wasn't about procedures or assets. I wanted to leave behind proof that I had been here, using my own voice and words. My family hasn't seen this yet. I have it tucked away quietly for when the time comes. Even though I recorded it as a sort of last will and testament, I realized while filming that this wasn't just for 'what if' scenarios; it was, in fact, a proper testament to my life.

What I found on the hospital bed

Writing it like this makes it sound serious, but in truth, I didn't fall into despair.

Being an extreme optimist has always been my strong suit. The concept of giving up simply doesn't exist for me. It's more like, I just do what I can.

During my hospitalization, I had plenty of time—the only thing I had in abundance. I had the time to thoroughly research generative AI, which was just starting to make waves in the world. When you're working, you rarely have the time to look into things like that.

While browsing YouTube, I came across the idea that 'even an amateur can build an app.' If I had been busy working, I don't think I would have had the luxury to stop and think about it, even if it had piqued my interest. But looking at it from my hospital bed, I thought, 'Wait, maybe I could build this too.' I am a hardware engineer who can't write a single line of software code, yet I felt that way.

And then, another clear thought emerged.

This experience. Preparing for the 'what ifs' and knowing what to do after being diagnosed with cancer. Couldn't supporting others and sharing this information become a 'job' that helps someone? Wouldn't it be wonderful if my own experience could be useful to someone else in the same situation?

I can no longer work in a way that relies on physical strength. But with my mind, my experience, and this AI—perhaps there is still something I can do. From my hospital bed, I began to think about how I would work from now on.

From here on out

Now, my physical strength has declined, and my life centers around being at home. I can no longer run around on-site like I used to.

But I am now starting to test, little by little, the way of working I envisioned while in the hospital. With my mind, my experience, and AI, I can create value without relying on physical strength. I might even be able to earn a living. That is what I believe.

There must be many others who, like me, have lost physical strength but still want to do something for their families. They want to leave behind even a little bit of money. That is a pressing need. But it's not just that. They want to leave behind some form of proof that they lived and the time they spent with their families. That desire, separate from money, must surely exist somewhere.

For me, I think writing like this accomplishes both. Putting my experience to use for someone else and earning some form of livelihood. That is my new way of working. And the act of writing and leaving it behind becomes the proof that I lived. Perhaps I can leave behind things that money cannot, through words.

And, besides money and words, there is one more thing.

Within the apps I created using AI, there is one for my mother-in-law and one for my father. An app to make my mother-in-law's tax return a little easier, and a home gardening app for my father, who enjoys gardening as a hobby. Both were made simply because I wanted to make things easier for them and see them happy.

But recently, I had a thought. Even after I am gone, every time my father opens that app in the garden, or my mother-in-law uses it for her tax return—I might still be there, just a little bit. By helping them, perhaps I will be remembered. I wasn't thinking about that when I made them. The feeling of caring for my family simply took shape first. I think this, too, is one of the things I can leave behind that is different from money.

And, to be honest—it's not just for my family. I myself still have the desire to 'do something, to accomplish something.'

There is surely no such thing as a life with zero regrets. Some regrets will likely remain. Even so, in the end, I want to be able to conclude with conviction, 'It was a good life, despite everything.'

That is why I will keep writing. I hope it can be a modest support for someone else who is lying awake in the same place.

Finally. If someone who is currently going through a hard time is reading this, please let me share a little more of my story.

I have been greatly helped by the feeling of 'wanting to do something' and 'still being able to do something.' I don't push myself too hard. But I have come to think that as long as I have this feeling, things will somehow work out.

One more thing. I stopped trying to carry everything alone and decided to rely on those around me.

Honestly, I did feel that it was a burden to rely on others. But one day, I realized something. If the roles were reversed—if a loved one were in the same situation and relied on me, I would gladly help them. If that's the case, then it must be the same when I rely on others.

I believe the world is about helping each other.

※The comment section is open.
I would be happy if you could leave a word about what you felt while reading.
However, I cannot write about medical matters (please consult your primary doctor or a specialist for treatment decisions).
Replies may be slow, and sometimes I may not be able to reply at all. Even so, I am reading them properly.

Thank you for reading this far.

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