Someone recently suggested to me that everyone should retire when they are fifty and die when they are sixty. A little harsh, but I can see where they are coming from. Think about it. You’d get ten years of relative youth and good health. Relative that is to your average ninety year-old, with delicate bones, failing kidneys and loose sphincters. Ten years to take up new pursuits, read all those books you never got around to, or to sit around in your onesie all day watching Netflix.
One of the advantages of the Retire at Fifty, Die at Sixty (RAFDAS) scheme, is that without an aging population to provide care for, there would be plenty of money in the coffers to give everyone a decent retirement. Unfortunately, having turned fifty this year, my RAFDAS death seems a little too close for comfort. If it was put into practice, I’d be tempted to do a Logan’s Run. Though in my case it would be more of a slow jog. But I don’t want to go on forever.
The nonagenarians I know are in a fragile state and only got to that age with a great deal of medical intervention. Often very intrusive intervention. This holds no appeal. Our bodies weren’t designed to last that long so why keep someone going just because you can? One ninety-four year old I know has been told not to eat chocolate because it is bad for her. Well everybody has to die of something. Why not chocolate?