Do I want to die at 75?

 A friend urged me to drop into the splits in
 Ecuador when I was a mere 71. She thought
 I should make the photo my profile picture. I 
 was afraid it was too show-offy. Now I don't
 care. I will show off and do the splits. Any 
 time, anywhere. Just ask me.
            

The answer is hell NO. 
Do you?

Unless something hideous develops between now and my 75th birthday, which is in about 10 minutes, geezer time, I have no desire to check out.

Why am I chewing on this? It started with an article published in The Atlantic in October 2014 - the year I turned 70 - and written by the guy pictured below. His name is Ezekiel J. Emanuel.  (Click for an exhaustive Wikipedia profile. Despite his delusions, he is an impressive dude.) 

His thesis? Once you reach 75, you've surpassed your physical and cognitive peaks and it's all downhill from there, baby. Might as well kick back and wait to kick the bucket.

My gaping jaw fell as I read Emanuel's article. He's a brilliant guy, of course, but sometimes the smartest and most successful people have blind spots. He is an oncologist and bioethicist who suggests that medical intervention, except for palliative measures, are pretty much wasted on people 75 and older. I wonder if he shares this view with his elder patients, most of whom, he can't help but notice, want desperately to live.

When he reaches 75, the age at which his inevitable decline can be expected to begin in earnest, he claims he will not seek or accept medical care. Good luck with that. The photo of him was likely taken the year he turned 57  when his Atlantic article was published. I know so many people in their 70s and 80s who exude as much radiance as he does.

HIS ARTICLE 

After Emanuel's piece was published, The Atlantic was flooded with responses. It's no surprise that multitudes were outraged or incredulous, although some were in agreement with the author that clinging to life with the certainty of inevitable decline and death is a waste of healthcare resources and a bad way to end a good life.

The doctor explained that after age 75 he intends to stop all medical visits,  including preventive primary care and cancer screenings. If he develops cancer, heart disease or whatever, he will refuse to be treated and live out his remaining months or years accepting only palliative care.

I'm close enough to 75 to know that I am not going to do that. I will reach the Emanuel-age-of-impending-doom in mid-December this year and I will continue with annual physical exams, flu shots, and dermatology checks, the later every six months.

I had an ugly melanoma diagnosis a few years ago which required surgery and lymph node biopsies and introduced me to the Cancer Club. Getting clean pathology results post-surgery was a huge relief, but I'm still on the six-month check-up plan. I've had several lesions removed, one of which was pre-malignant. I can't imagine stopping those preventive screenings. 

I'm guessing that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg wouldn't think much of Emanuel's idea either. Ginsberg, at 86, is currently being treated for yet another cancer. But she has a high purpose to save us from a lopsided Supreme Court and damned if she'll quit fighting for her life. And her country. 

Her cognitive abilities don't appear to have diminished and her life force is apparently vigorous. You've seen her workout routine, right? Challenging exercise makes a huge difference, as I have also learned.

Odd that I think of Justice Ginzburg as "old" when she's only 11 years my senior. Eleven years! I now know, as do others who've lived this long, that 11 years is insignificant as the time ball ricochets through the years, wrecking all semblance of personal control over its passage.

The lesson: the only time we have is this moment. Right now. And even while thinking about it, the moment has passed, and on it goes until...it doesn't. Or until, as our bioethicist suggests, we turn 75 and accept the inevitable. Time's up.

But then there are people like me and maybe you. The thing is, even though I am officially a geezer, I don't feel like one. I sometimes forget my age. I'm no longer denying but accepting, even embracing, my status as a healthy active elder.

At a recent music festival, for example, I was drawn to the exuberant crowd in front of the band and participated in joyful dancing with total strangers. I was the elder dancer, which is often the case. 

Afterward, a young woman threw her arms around my neck and said, "Will you please be my grandma?" 

That got my attention, then my gratitude. It was a great moment. 

I feel strong, energetic, and fortunate, not at all how I envisioned this time of life 50 or even 25 years ago. I never saw myself as a dancing grandma, but hey. Things could be worse. 

Conventional wisdom says that healthy aging depends on a healthy diet, social connections, physical activity, and having a purpose.

Gardening provides lots of weightlifting opportunities. 

If I have a purpose, it is to be kind, grow and share flowers and tomatoes, and whatever lessons I've learned. It is to keep my mate happy, be inspired by - and work to preserve - the natural world, dance often, create essays and images, cultivate existing friendships and make new ones. And watch, with a full heart, as our grandchildren disappear into young adults. 

Hula hooping at a music festival
in March 2019. 

My parents lived into their 90s. Mom was almost 99 and Dad, 93. Both died of "old age." Their final months were difficult. 

My sister and I  consider our parents' numbers and realize we may be facing serious longevity. We have talked about creating our own ' final solutions.'

I am not at all resigned to give it up at a healthy happy 75. But 90? 95? 10o? I don't know. 

What do I know? Not much. Like most humans, I submit to the sun and the moon cycles, the time of bountiful gardens and the winter's dormant days. The time of raising children then stepping back to see the grown-up progeny cultivating their own offspring. It is all good. 

I was in my late sixties when this photo was taken. We were on a Blues Cruise, supposedly swimming with sea turtles in warm water as waiters carrying trays of rum punch made the rounds in their swimsuits. This sort of thing still makes me happy.

Ten years from now? At 85? I might still be writing an occasional blog post, practicing yoga, hiking, gardening, dancing, and feeling grateful every day.

If, however, I'm afflicted with a terminal condition, I may lean toward Dr. Emanuel's nothing-but-palliative approach. I totally agree with his stance that taking every possible measure with elderly patients is a waste of resources and is even cruel. Since I live in Oregon, a Death with Dignity state, that option would be on the table. 


For now? I'm going for it. Life is short!

I saw my primary care doc recently for a quick check-up and advice about how to prepare for an adventure we're taking in December/January. I will turn 75 in Cusco, Peru. 

That will be after five days in the Amazon slogging around the jungle on the lookout for everything from macaws to jaguars. Then on to the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu, where we expect, weather permitting, to climb the Machu Picchu Mountain and tour, with a guide, the most-visited UNESCO World Heritage site.


After that, we'll be in Colombia where our activities include whitewater rafting, trekking to an indigenous village, and taking on a "strenuous"  hike in the Andes for a grand view of mountains and the Pacific Ocean. 

Caving into multiple negatives about aging, I got skittish about whether I'm too old for the adventures this trip presents.  

I told my doc that I've had tweaks in my knees and also a hip that is sometimes bothersome. Will I be able to do all this stuff?  Should I back off on jumping in Zumba? Should I baby my knees? Should I take it easy? Should I sit out the difficult hiking at high altitude?

She did a quick hip X-ray that verified I have some bursitis and arthritis. But she also advised me to continue jumping, dancing, walking, biking, squats, yoga, and Pilates. All the hard stuff. 

"Continue doing all you do and don't stop!" she advised. 
"Go climb the mountains."

Ok then, doc. That's all I need to know.


EARLIER POSTS ABOUT AGING

Ditch the Hair Dye - plus an article about Working to Disarm Women's Anti-aging Demons 
I was into the Clairol bottle most of my adult life until PK persuaded me to stop. I'm glad I did. I like my white hair.

Camping with Gray-haired girlfriends - fun times outdoors  and moments of truth

Pauline - Is 90 the New 70?   In her early 90s when I met her, the first thing she wanted to tell me was how much men like sex. This is one of my favorite posts ever. Pauline is now 96 or 97 and still going strong.

Yoga - a Defense Against Aging - Yes, it is. Check it out. A post about a yoga class I've frequented for about 20 years. Lots of older people doing the splits and more!

Attitude and Aging - Lighten Up!  It matters how you think about getting older.

Sister's Aging Advice All Too True  I've changed my mind about what I wrote in this post a couple years ago. Rather than accepting my sister's aging angst and predictions, I'm attempting to persuade her to be more positive and proactive. 

Travel Tips for Geezers  Just go and don't worry about it.