This month his doctor asked "how are you still alive Bertrand?"

Mr Cadart left his beloved home on Tasmania's East Coast three years ago after serving as mayor and councillor at Glamorgan Spring Bay Council since 2007.

A pre-leukemia diagnosis eventually forced him to leave, but even though the move to Queensland put him closer to family and a baby grandson, Bertrand misses Tasmania.

"I miss the climate, the purity of the air, the wildlife, the roads. For anyone who is a motorcyclist, Tasmania is just heaven," he said.

"Out of the almost 47 years that I have lived in Australia the best 18 years of my Australian life has definitely been in Tasmania."

The 71-year-old self-described "flamboyant Frenchman" and engine-enthusiast, with the trademark handlebar moustache, was not expected to live past his now 4-year-old grandson's second birthday.

His estimated death-date continues to be pushed back.

"I have this leukemia and we have fought for almost three years but I am slowly but surely losing the battle, we are running out of ammunition, running out of available treatments," he said.

"I was not supposed to see Christmas and ...[I saw it] but none of the doctors think that I have more than months.

"There is no remission. All we can do is build the wall as best as possible, give me fresh blood, but, I am on my way."

Bertrand is living his death as he has always lived his life; quirky and different.

He has a headstone and colourful plaque picked out, his funeral is organised and paid for, and his coffin made of cardboard and painted Ducati / Ferrari red sits in his Queensland lounge room marked with the written farewells from friends.

He also attended his own wake.

This "live-wake" or living funeral, he said, was an interesting experience.

Held in the garden of his home "Papou's Place", his guests mingled with champagne before eating lunch, while a fidler and accordionist played music in the background.

"We were in unchartered territory, we did not know how people would react," Bertrand said.

"I was as jovial as I could be but it was a very strange feeling because you just don't know what to say or do. I was kind of numb.

"And it was weird for me to listen to speeches that I was not supposed to hear - I was supposed to be in my box."

But Bertrand said at its completion, most of his guests were impressed.

"After an hour or so, people relaxed and it went beautifully. I got a lot of feedback. People said it was one of the most amazing ceremonies that they had attended, that people should do this kind of thing a lot more," he said.

"Maybe one or two said that you don't have the right to do this, that God is the one to decide ... I wouldn't say live-wakes are for everybody, but it certainly worked for us and my guests."

In a fitting tribute to his connection with the film industry, having acted in the George Miler's 1979 classic Mad Max, Bertrand also had his live-wake recorded as part of a documentary filmed by a French television crew.

This, he said, was for his grandson.

"He is four and I am now aware that I will not be with him, during his school years nor his teenage years, so I thought, I will leave this legacy of my life.

"When he will be one day 16 or 17 and he will watch this and be able to understand me, and hopefully, he will go, s**t, my papa was a good dude."

While death continues to be a topic shunned in everyday conversations, and is something that many people fear, Bertrand said that he has never worried much about it.

"I almost died three times, twice in motorcycle crashes and once with a bloodclot in my leg, and I was very, very close to death and I realised that there was not much to be scared of," he said.

"Life to me has been a party, not a joke, but a big, long party, included with the knocks and downturns, the disappointments and pain, all sorts of pain. Overall, if someone is telling me how serious life is I would just walk away, life is what it is and you make the best that you can."

He adds that when a doctor says "well mate, this is it, you are on your way" one does start to assess things.

"I read a lot of books on philosophy and I watched a lot of documentaries on the first world war. It put death into perspective," he said.

"When you see those guys falling by the bloody hundreds you think s**t, who am I to be scared of death?

"You look at those blokes, 17 or 18, having no chance to do anything with their life, and then you look at you, and all the things that you have been lucky to do."

While on the East Coast of Tasmania, Bertrand was known to be a colourful-character, once quoted in the media for his description of those who lived on the coast as "the most bogan of bogans".

He worked on the ABC's Radio Australia in Melbourne for 14 years, entered local politics by serving on the Glamorgan Spring Bay Council and ran for state politics in the seat of Lyons for the Liberal party.

Once he moved to Queensland his political hopes continued and the leukemia did not stop him, having ran for the seat of Fairfax in the 2019 election for the Liberal Democrats.

He has also spoken freely of depression, having taken part in the Black Dog Ride in 2015.

As his time in life continues, Bertrand continues to remain active as best he can.

He has kept busy, in between hospital visits, attending events for the Alliance Fraincaise Group, and read the poetry of his great great grandfather.

"Isn't that great? That the words of my great grandfather, written and published in France, are read by his great grandson on the Sunshine Coast in Australia. That is unbelievable," he said.

And in perhaps a metaphor for Bertrand's attitude for life, his grandfather's poem is about a lady selling something that brings positive vibe for the soul.

Bertrand briefly translates the poem, which is written in French.

"Imagine a market and instead of someone selling veggies, a lady is selling moonlight. The lady says 'come and buy my moonlight, this is good for your soul, and good for your art. And isn't it great, that when you are down, you can dream and escape on this moonlit rain?"

Perhaps it is this moonlight image that Bertrand is channeling as he keeps breathing while his body defies him.

As he reflects on the messages written on his cardboard coffin, so chosen because it decomposes after nine months which is the exact same time it takes for a baby to develop in the womb, he explains that his reasons for following an alternative approach to death are simple.

Less fuss and less trauma for those he leaves behind.

"I did this for my children," he said.

"I wanted to minimise, as best as possible, the trauma and the stress that is associated with the death of a loved one.

"I have been made aware by doctors that I am on my way and this gives me a great advantage because you can get organised.

"Rather than curl into a corner and feel sorry for myself, which has never been my attitude for life, I thought, if I can make this easier for my kids then, why not?"