"Hope to Die"

    Yesterday, the mail brought my October issue of "The Atlantic."  Inside is an article titled "Why I Hope to Die at 75."   The author is Ezekiel J. Emmanuel, described as an oncologist, bioethicist, and vice provost of the University of Pennsylvania, as well as the author of a number of books. 
    He asserts, in a detailed article, that he is not advocating for 75 in order to ration health care, but to try to delineate his views for a good life.  He unearths the truth that living too long is also a loss, says that, though his family thinks he is wrong, and  that he will re-evaluate his stance as he grows older, he proclaims that he will not, that he is sure of his position, at his present age of 57. He is in good health, has just climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro with family members.  He wants to die while still in his prime, specifying that his choice is for him alone, and not as an advocate of euthanasia or physician-assisted suicide.  When he reaches the age of 75, he will not actively end his own life, but will forego any screenings or preventive tests, will have no more colonoscopies, no prostate screening at all.  He will, on reaching 75, accept only palliative care if he develops cancer. 
      The article  prompts  a valid discussion in many respects: the most salient probably being that it forces us to think about the end of our own lives, and confront deep existentialist questions about what we would want to leave as a testament to why we were here, as well as debating the eternal question as to whether our contribution warrants our consumption.
      It's hardly a new idea, though.  I remember (though he probably would not)  Lucille Ball's saying essentially the same in a television interview some years before her death, and choosing the same end date as he---75.  Her statement was met with outrage and indignation at the time, but I don't think regarded as important, because she lacked the credentials that Dr. Emmanuel owns.
    The recent photograph accompanying the article shows a man who, while appearing lean and fit, looks to me to be somewhat older than his stated age of 57.  He's smiling in the photo, and  I wonder if he will continue to endure dental cleanings and tooth maintenance when he reaches 75, or if he'll just abandon that care also.  He is pictured with his hands on his hips, and appears to have manicured nails.  When will that amenity be forfeited?  If I were in a position to do so, I might mention to him that the tips of his fingers appear to be a bit clubbed, something which may bear looking into some time over the next 18 years. 
      Overall, I find something admirable about a person willing to take any kind of controversial stance, but I think Lucille Ball's* statement was more credible than his is.  He, after all, is a professional writer, who benefits from any work that is published.  Moreover, though at the outset of his article  he firmly denies he will ever veer from his position, there is  a cop-out at the end which I see as a fatal flaw in the literary value of his thought process.  Why does he weaken the entire argument?  Possibly because of some tenets of his heritage, for in closing, he says, "I retain the right to change my mind and offer a vigorous and reasoned defense of living as long as possible."  He posits  that would mean he would still have the capacity to be creative, the lack of which would be a reason not to live any longer. 
      I would not have wanted him as my oncologist.  He makes a better writer, though of the rather cowardly, commercial sort.
    
* Lucille Ball died in 1989 at the age of 78, from an aortic aneurism.