Doctor told me I am going to die in one year, what should I do?

I am twenty nine, and I am considered an old maid by my family. In my community the unmarried women are simply those who have failed to get a man. I live with my mother, and we have a lot of relatives, who are all dissatisfied with my unmarried state. Aunt Alberta condoles with me on my sallow skin, Uncle Herbert comments on me being so scrawny, Uncle James asks me about my hope-chest sarcastically, and Uncle Benjamin is constantly cracking silly jokes about me. In my spare time I piece quilts, because my mother says that one should not be idle. We have three chest-fulls of these quilts. I started having that queer pain around the heart and consulted Dr Trent. He isn't a family doctor, I didn't want my family to know. He examined me and sent me a letter, telling me that I had a year to live. I told no one, and I can't decide what I should do. I can't spend the last year of my life piecing quilts and listening to jokes, commiserations and complaints of my relatives. What should I do?