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Although NYC has five boroughs, I’m going to assume you’ll be living in Manhattan (since we’re talking about being well-off ). This applies for a single person with no children.First, the housing situation. Well, since you’re well off, you’d probably be living in a one bedroom by yourself. I searched for luxury 1BR apartments in Manhattan and landed on this page: New York City Luxury Apartments for Rent | Related Rentals.Basically, luxury 1BR apartments start at around 4K. For example, a 1BR in the beautiful One Hudson Yards start at $4675 at the time of this writing. [1] This is roughly $56000 on housing per year.Living with a furry friend will cost you an additional $50–$150 per month, depending on the building.Next up, the food. If you’re well off, you can probably afford one of those Meal Kit services [2] That suggests ~$12 per meal, which sounds reasonable. Suppose you’d rather eat out and don’t want to bother doing groceries. We can assume you’ll pay the same, plus 20% for tips. This is roughly $15 per meal. You’re looking at $45 per day, or ~$16500 per year for food.To get around you’re going to need a MetroCard. The MetroCard costs $121 per month, or ~$1452 yearly for unlimited rides. [3] Cheap transportation helps offset some of the housing costs.Verizon Fios (internet) will cost you about $60+ per month, and your phone bill will cost you ~$100 for unlimited data. You can also assume that electricity will cost you $100 for an apartment that size (water and other utilities are usually included). You’re looking at ~$3120 per year on utilities.So, now you can get around, eat, have a place to sleep with all of your utilities paid. We’ll call this your bare minimum expenses, which sum up to ~$77000 per year.The problem is, you haven’t saved a dime, or spent money having fun. Let’s say you save 20% of your salary for retirement and 20% to have fun: travel, shopping, parties, etc. We can call this your save hard and play hard expenses, respectively:[math]$77,000 + 0.2X + 0.2X = X[/math][math]$77,000 = 0.6X[/math][math]X ~= $128,333[/math]So, to live this lifestyle, you’d need $128,000+ yearly after taxes.Free Income Tax Calculator - Estimate Your Taxes | SmartAsset tells us you’d need to make just over $200,000 per year before taxes.So, how well is a person making $200K in NYC living? Someone making $200,000 per year would be in the top 5% of earners in NYC. [4]Well off indeed.Now, do you really need 20% to “play hard,” a 1BR apartment, constantly eat out, etc? Probably not. With a salary closer to $130,000 you should be pretty well off (top 20% of earners).Footnotes[1] One Hudson Yards Luxury Apartments in Chelsea NYC | Related Rentals[2] The Best Meal Kit Services: Blue Apron vs. Hello Fresh vs. Plated[3] MTA/New York City Transit[4] So You’re Rich for an American. Does That Make You Rich for New York?

Right now my mother-in-law has a 50% chance of dying in the next 2 years of decompensated cirrhosis. She found this out 3 weeks ago. She is 53 years old.That would be bad, but not so bad that it’d merit writing here on Quora, except that one of her accompanying symptoms - peritonitis - has a 70% chance of coming back repeatedly with a 1 in 3 chance of fatality each time.That would be bad, but not so bad (maybe she can get an amazing doc?), except that she isn’t insured.That would be bad, but not so bad (maybe she could get on Medicaid?), except that her husband’s income overqualifies her from Medicaid.That, too, would be bad, but also not so bad (maybe he makes a lot of money?), except that they survive off of his Social Security Disability income - and it’s $120 per month too much for Medicaid.And that would be bad, but not so bad (maybe they know rich people?), except that their kids (I am son-in-law) have been working hard for years to help them financially and physically (the husband has been disabled for several years), moving them closer to the majority of the kids, and can’t spare huge sums of money to cover the impending doom of hospital bills.And THAT would be bad, but not so bad (maybe the hospital bills won’t be too much?), except that they will be enormous: multiple pending procedures from the only liver specialist between here and Minnesota (according to that specialist) and likely “surprise” hospital stays due to the volatile nature of the condition.Not to mention the only real hope of long-term survival: a transplant.All this in a decades-long saga of car breakdowns, theft, exacting and harsh landlords, best-friend and close-family deaths…None of this would tug at heartstrings as much, either, if they were cantankerous, grumpy fools, but no…they raised their kids very tenderly and now are beloved by 3 grandkids (my mother-in-law in particular is a GENIUS with little ones)they have been active contributors to society, as teachers and friends and churchgoersthey are incredibly friendlyyou’d like themI swearThe whole gang on their 2nd oldest daughter’s wedding day. My mother-in-law is the 4th from the left, in purple.Edit: GoFundMe page for Sandi: Click here to support Sandi - Medical Expenses, etc.

Besides the loss of your life partner and rude awakening that you are suddenly alone, there is a searing pain that is difficult to express.Having lived as “one person” with my husband for over 20 years, there is a lingering sense of being ripped in two; the person I was was fulfilled and looking forward to the future. The person that survived suddenly had that identity stripped away on January 3rd, 2011, the day my husband died.I was so content before that I gave up a career in singing opera. I could barely express how fulfilling life was. My husband also had always longed to be married. Both of us valued married life in a way that would be considered rare today, and it didn’t matter whether we had a little or a lot. During years with little money, our bond grew closer.In 25 years (including a long engagement), neither of us even called the other one a “bitch” or “S.O.B” (you get the idea). In fact, as my husband was dying, he called me his “beautiful, beautiful wife.”The day he died, I knew I would never hear “You’re my beautiful, beautiful wife” again.Worse, I had seen my husband suffer from medical malpractice, terrible pain, and I had to be responsible for having his body consigned to a furnace.I’ve heard in churches that “widows are cared for in modern times” so that a church ministry for widows isn’t needed.How wrong that is!The world (including the Church) is largely responsible for reinforcing the searing pain of widowhood.During the ten years of fighting my husband’s cancer, we were at least able to receive help. My own disability never came first, as it was rare and hard to pronounce (dermatomyositis/lupus). My husband’s cancer was more urgent since they had dismissed diagnosis so long that that it spread. He wound up with just a 15% chance of surviving 1 year.One friend took my husband to chemo when I was exhausted and used to frequently pray with us. Friends and family called to find out how my husband was, and to offer help. A prayer group called every so often—even on the day he died.I held two beautiful funerals to honor my husband.Then suddenly, all the help I had depended on ceased.My husband’s family did not understand that “home hospice” had meant the wife cared for the patient (they lived 1000 miles away). My own family had disowned me years ago, before chemo and plasmapheresis nearly killed me.There was no family support when I faced widowhood, disability, and raising a teen. Exhausted. A disabled widow of 48, I wasn’t eligible for disability.Criminals and unscrupulous people don’t spare widows, they exploit weakness—as did the oncology billing office. They sent bills for doctors my husband had never visited! I sent ten pages of fraudulent billing to the insurance company, and they had no leg to stand on.When I filed for our last tax refund to pay the final hospital bills, imagine my shock when the IRS told me my husband had “moved to Florida,” and had filed his taxes early to collect our last refund. He had been in a coma at home for two months, and had been dying all year. My son and I were in the room when he died.The theft of of my husband’s identity was a crushing blow, and there was nobody to tell but God. I took the death certificate to the IRS. Months went by without desperately needed funds. More than once, the IRS told us the check was “in the mail” only for me to hear it never was.By the end of a year, I needed a federal advocate to research what had happened to our refund. The news was brutal; she said the scam came from the hospice (that barely cared for my husband). All the hard work in “home hospice” comes from the family, which was me (with my 16-year-old son)—bathing, giving medicine, and caring for a large external tumor that constantly bled.Bills for chemo that had been payed (down to zero) would resurface from the (notoriously corrupt) local hospital. Bills for visiting doctors I knew my husband never saw would appear. I wound up submitting 11 pages of fraudulent bills to the insurance company along with proof they had been payed or proof they had not been issued at the time.The hospital had to give up on all the fraudulent bills I submitted (but I’m sure I missed several).How can one explain: Human beings knowing that they were stealing from a little family whose bread winner had just died of cancer?So it is hard; hard to advocate for the love of your life—yet wind up alone with no advocate for yourself, too ill to even leave your home from an illness that needs better treatment.The prayer group stopped calling as soon as my husband died, despite several requests on my part.The priest told me after the funeral that he would not visit anymore.(So there are no anointing or funeral plans for me).Friends stopped calling, three died at young ages in the next 2 years (51, 55, and 54), and two moved.I hinted that I would like to go out for coffee sometime, but it was clear that couples simply find that awkward.Some live in homes made warm by the love of family and friends. They enjoy this warmth into old age, and perhaps give little thought to the widow or the orphan.Before I was a widow, I didn’t know what it was like either.Now I know; It is the long winter of the soul.Blessed are those who open their hearts and friendship to those who live in such a desolate place.Those will someday hear the Lord say, “I was in prison and you visited me.”