Having an option to possibly live again sounds great
When I think about cryonic suspension—cooling a recently deceased person to keep their body preserved until future science can revive them—I’m overwhelmed with inner conflict.
My knee-jerk reaction to the thought of sticking around for the future is absolutely not. With the promise of devastating earthquakes, the possible eruption of Yellowstone’s super-volcano, and various climate-change nightmares, I’m not sure I’m even comfortable with the thought of bringing a child into this world, much less choosing to ride out another lifetime to see what happens.
But I don’t want to die. I’m actually quite consumed with dread at the mere thought of it, especially after I saw an episode of Six Feet Under that described it as a “dreamless sleep forever and ever.” Having an option to possibly live again sounds great to me.
[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]
Perhaps my propensity for worry has been passed down: My grandfather is cryonically frozen.
When I tell people my grandfather is cryonically preserved, I get a spectrum of responses. Some argue in defense of dying and going to heaven; others are amused by the lunacy of such a seemingly sci-fi process. Some scoff at anyone who thinks they can skirt death; others are intrigued to learn more. For me, as I get older, it forces me to face my own mortality.
I was born in 1983 when my grandfather was already involved in cryonics, and I can’t remember a time before he had his plan set in motion. My grandfather was an entertainer, entrepreneur, inventor and athlete. He was a forward-thinking, adventurous and brave man who lived life on the edge. He was a professional roller skater in his youth, a businessman by trade, taught himself to do handstands on motorcycles when he was 50, and traveled cross-country well into his 80s.
Where my inclination is to avoid death, it seems he was more interested in extending his life as long as humanly possible. And when there was an option to test the limits of one’s lifespan, he took it even further. Looking at his life I’m reminded that maybe dying would be an big adventure, but also that taking the chance to live again in the future might not be so bad, either. (Right, JM Barrie?)
We’re all going to die, and I’ll have to come to terms with it. I like to assume my grandfather didn’t like those odds and gambled on extending his time here on earth. For me, even a chance at life again, a promise to believe in on my deathbed, would be good enough.
Cryonic suspension comes with a monetary cost. I can’t even afford to rent a one-bedroom apartment now, so a dwelling to encapsulate my body for an undisclosed length of time is out of the question. But cost aside, I’d be all in. What’s the worst that could happen? Death? Perhaps my grandfather passed down his sense of adventure, too.
Star is a freelancer writer who lives in Portland, Oregon