I have reached the age that the most frequent topics of conversation are chronicle diseases and retirement planning. (This is actually an improvement from mid-life crisis and marital disasters.) In one of those gathering, we realized that many of our still living parents are all in their 90s and not really showing any signs of, huh, slowing down. There was a collective light-bulb moment: geez, we could all live beyond our parents’ ages and into the 100s. What if we get to live to 120? That thought, to many, was horrifying. We imagined ourselves 90+ years old and…
“Just kill me!” That thought came to many’s minds.
If we retire at 65 and will live to 120. That’s 55 more years! Imagine the growing up, working, climbing the ladder, raising a family, etc. during the first 65 years. The second 55 years will be filled with … Er, what?
Can I really lie on the beach sipping Pina Colada for 55 years? Can I afford to? Wait a moment, it took me only 4 years to get a college degree. If I start at 65, I could get a PhD degree before 75. And I would still have 45 years left.
Hmm… All those will be awfully unpleasant if I need to do dialysis every other day, blinded from diabetes, hooked to an oxygen tank, trapped in my own body with Parkinson, or completely lost in some kinds of dementia.
Would it actually be a blessing to drop dead with an aneurysm at the ripe age of, say, 90?