After enjoying my year (Birds, Booze, Pies) I'd go to a Tele Evangelist and get in line to be "Healed". Time it just right so he can give it "Satan be gawn when ay lay ma hands on thee!" Then as he touches my heeed and I draw my final breath, I'd use it to laugh as I realise his career is over. Just imagine the look on the faces of the guys behind me when he says "Oh well, who's next?"
One year to live? Easy. I'd join the RAF. Wearing white socks and a uniform the colour of that blue tint that some biddies put in their hair whilst doing frick all would be so boring that time would pass slower than the French Army advancing to contact. Thus the year would seem to last for ever. And one would welcome the end.