Pickles is dead. About two weeks ago, my daughter-in-law found her unresponsive in her cage. Although she was only two, that’s roughly the life expectancy of a hamster—which is what Pickles was. She had been a breeding hamster and was adopted later in life by our grandson, Jack. He gave her a good home, and he loved her.

That afternoon following her death, Jack dressed in a blazer and slacks to accompany Pickles to the pet crematorium. Afterwards, Pat and Jack went out, hopeful to find some fun. In the car, Jack said, “It’s so weird grandpa. Just two days ago we were playing, and today she’s dead. How does that happen?”

When Pat recounted this conversation to me, my first thought was: That sounds great. Isn’t that how we all want to go? The healthspan industry is exploding. The goal of the healthspan disciples is to stay healthier for longer. In the nirvana state of healthspan, a nonagenarian plays tennis Saturday and drops dead Sunday.

Let me be clear, I do follow much of the healthspan credo: I eat well, walk almost everywhere, and sleep like a teenager. In many ways, I’ve never felt better, but I also realize this is partially an illusion. I’m not healthier than I’ve ever been.

Per Dr. Ezekiel Emanuel (and every other physician whose writings I’ve read of late), human health “falls off a cliff” for most of us around age 75. It might be a serious illness, or perhaps it’s a litany of nagging issues. Either way, no matter what we do, at some point our options will constrict. Travel after age 75 is clearly possible, but few in this group are sky diving.

I’ve gnawed on all of this for the last several days. No matter how hard I nudge it, the cliff is still out there. I realize that I need to rethink a few things in my own life, including my travel goals. Our current plans are a bit aimless. If I want to schlep through India, hike across England, or run with the bulls in Pamplona, now is the time to put it on the list. 

In that spirit, one day over lunch, I asked Pat what was on his list of physically and/or mentally challenging trips that he wants to take. This was a fairly quick discussion because fortunately we are of like mind. 

We both love our annual weeklong backpacking trip through the villages of Burgundy, so I’ve added the long-deferred goal of hiking the Cotswolds. We both want to explore the eastern half of Europe from Tallinn to Sofia by train and bus, yet this will be a more demanding trip and hence should move up the queue. We are leaving today on a six month road trip; I don’t envision doing this into our dotage. Both of us want to vacation more in Italy—something which doesn’t take enormous physical prowess but is a high priority. 

When pushed, we admitted that neither of us is terribly interested in spots beyond North America and Europe. Consequently, I’ve mentally scratched off Asia and pretty much the entire southern hemisphere from my aspirational list. After honestly dissecting our travel goals, it was surprising how easily I’ve erased more than two thirds of the globe.

While some might think that this is a morbid way to think, I disagree. There are certain places I’d like to explore which may require my current level of health. If that means I have to confront some truths about my own mortality in order to get moving, so be it. For me, that’s a small price to pay.

So thank you Pickles. In a weird way, you helped me to clarify the next years of my life. More importantly, you made a little boy happy, lived a beloved life, and ultimately died a good death. 

What more could any of us wish for?

Categories: Ruminations

Tags: life transitions, nomadic retirement, the world inbetween, Unusual retirement options