#2: How old are your organs?

We're talking longevity, baby (and my dental trauma)

Head’s up: This post contains mentions of death, cancer, disordered eating, and guinea pig gonads. I promise it’s not all a bummer (we’re also talking about the Twilight saga!), but if these topics aren’t your jam, I promise I won’t be mad if you skip this one, or come back to read another time.

Alright, let’s get on with it. Unless you’re a billionaire, you’re not getting any younger.

---

Hyenas and a dentist. 

At some point, every kid gets asked what their favorite animal is and what they want to be when they grow up. Depending on when you asked little Kasia, the first question would get you an answer of horse, otter, or wolf. As to the dream job, it was usually a paleontologist or scientist. Sorry, little Kasia, we didn’t quite nail it.

But if you asked me what my least favorite animal was—or the job I definitely didn’t want to have? Those answers were easy too. Hyenas were the ones I’d vote off the ark. (Have you seen The Lion King?)

And I claimed—no matter what—I’d never want to be a dentist.

When asked why, I’d answer along these lines:

“I wouldn’t want to have a job where everyone is scared to come see me.”

I know there’s at least one future dentist on this list (hi, Allison!) and I promise I mean no offense to the dental profession. Y’all mouth bone doctors are cool with me (now). 

But little Kasia? She had beef with dentists.

I won’t go into my whole sordid dental trauma history, but what matters for this story is that, for a few years when I was a kid, I had back-to-back painful dental procedures. For a few years, every time I saw a dentist, I had to have some stubborn baby tooth pulled. 

Baby Kasia with missing front teeth. Those actually fell out naturally.

At some point, the dentist I still see today in Poland (my homie, Dr. Zaborowski, he’s the best) explained my plight to me in these simple terms:

“Kasia, your teeth are just aging slower than you are!”

In other words, though my body was ready to give me an adult set of teeth, my baby teeth were like, “Nah, we got another few years of chillin’, you’ll have to evict us.”

And, well, we did. Cue “Novacane” by Frank Ocean.

So when this study about organ aging came out in Nature a few months ago, I couldn’t help but think about my baby teeth.

As it turns out, regardless of how accurate my Polish dentist’s aging metaphor for my teeth may have been, the idea of different parts of your body aging at different rates has been at the forefront of longevity science for a bit.

Chronological age? Extremely passé. We’re celebrating your brain’s, heart’s, and kidneys’ birthdays now. Oh, and they’re probably all a little different. 

Here’s what the study says: One in 60 adults seems to have at least two organs that are aging rapidly, making them an “extreme ager.” And the kicker: the study sample was of people with no active disease or clinically abnormal biomarkers.

Yeah, I hate that too.

But the good news is: This research is intended to help scientists develop a blood test that can better identify these super-aging organs. That kind of test can then help doctors intervene in patients’ disease progression—before symptoms begin.

Yay! Right?

Well. Forgive me if I’m a little wary. I’ve been wading in the murky waters of the longevity field for a bit, and I’m feeling a little uninspired. So, let’s talk about it.

But before any longevity fans come at me (The science is cool! Preventive health is cool! I swear!), let me back up a bit.

Longevity: who is it for?

I’ll start by saying I’m not a longevity scientist. I’m not even a scientist, period (again, sorry little Kasia). What I am is a medtech writer. Many of my clients are interested in the longevity space, so I’ve gotten to explore it a bit thanks to my work. 

At this point, many of you are like, “Kasia, I’m not a medtech nerd, what do you mean when you say longevity?”

Great point. Let’s get clear on terminology. 

Longevity has become a bit of a buzzword with the rise of this research. Just take a look at all the skincare brands (bareMinerals, Estée Lauder, OneSkin) replacing “anti-aging” with “longevity” in their branding. At my most cynical, I wonder if it’s an SEO play.

But when I refer to the longevity space today, I’m specifically talking about the research and startups trying to reverse aging and extend human lifespans. And, yes, I’m also referring to the eccentric Silicon Valley millionaires trying to biohack their way to immortality.

Photo by Ishan @seefromthesky on Unsplash. (Note: This was the first photo that came up when I typed “millionaire” into Unsplash. I think it speaks for itself.)

There are several approaches to the scientific understanding of longevity (i.e., aging research), including:

• Epigenetics — the study of how behavior and environment can change your gene expression (watch this space for when we inevitably cover endocrine disruptors in Body Lore)

• Inflammation — it turns out, this happens more often throughout your body as you age, can’t wait for more eczema!

• Telomere shortening — when these “caps” on the ends of your chromosomes degrade, much like Taylor Swift, your cells know when it’s time to go (I’m sorry)

The researchers and companies in the longevity field are trying to understand—and “hack”—some or all of them.

With headlines like the one I linked above (question for dudes: is this your version of the Taylor Swift Eras Tour Workout or the Miley Arms Routine articles?), it can be easy for regular people outside the tech bubble to shrug this stuff off.

Hell, even when talking about startups like Tally Health—the DTC epigenetic company offering personalized biological age analysis and longevity supplement subscriptions—these offerings don’t feel pertinent to most people.

Yes, the science is fascinating. And the idea that preventive health could one day look like taking a blood test and popping a personalized longevity pill? Love that.

But as a health writer—and a freelancer who qualified for Medicaid in 2022—I can’t shake the feeling of being on the outside looking in when it comes to these topics. Half of American adults are struggling to afford regular ol’ healthcare right now. One in four have skipped or postponed care because of the cost. These folks aren’t going to pay for a longevity subscription.

At the same time, I don’t want to be reductive.

Just because we have a cost of living crisis and American healthcare is way too expensive doesn’t mean this science isn’t important. If we can integrate something like organ age testing into the annual physical and use that information to intervene earlier for people with, say, early-stage heart disease, we could save a lot of people unnecessary pain and costs. Especially since cardiovascular disease does disproportionately hurt BIPOC patients.

I do see the vision. But that’s not what longevity looks like today.

I got the same feeling a few years ago when I read this banger of a Wait But Why post on cryonics. Read the full post for a fascinating deep dive into the cryonics world—aka how some people are trying to achieve immortality by cryopreserving their bodies (or brains) after their deaths, hoping that, in the future, a more technologically advanced society brings them back.

The article also serves as a personal cryonics manifesto for WBW’s Tim Urban. Upon writing the post, Urban made an appointment with a cryonics company to begin his journey, referencing ‘loving life’ and ‘having hope’ as two of the main reasons behind his affinity for the cryo-gamble.

As I read the post, I found myself splitting in two.

Was I also hella curious about whether a future society could bring me back? No sh*t.

But did I a) have the money now to bankroll the membership or b) have a life where I could reasonably make a cryonics company the beneficiary of a life insurance policy upon my death without my loved ones thinking I got body-snatched? No, and thankfully also no.

(Mom: If I die and someone tells you I left my teeny fortune to cryonics, please know you’re being scammed!)

At this point in my life (and given the society I live in), when I think of receiving a Love Island prize (for the unacquainted: $100,000), my mind goes to padding an emergency fund and covering maybe ~two years of long-term care should my mom ever need it. 

In other words, even if I get a little richer, I’m thinking of what’s tangible: my life’s likely and possible disasters. I’m not making immortality plays. And I bet that’s how most other “regular” people think, too.

Speaking of which, is anyone else here watching Netflix’s Three-Body Problem? 

I just finished it. And though I agree with the takes that the adaptation of the Cixin Liu novel has many problems, I’ve been a bit obsessed with it while also working on this post.

Don’t worry, no spoilers ahead if you haven’t watched yet.

I only mention it because there’s an exchange between the show’s central characters in the middle of the series that I think encapsulates one of my core issues with the many ways the longevity and cryonics folks are pursuing immortality.

In the aforementioned conversation, the characters discuss how the world is reacting to a newly-revealed threat to human civilization, which is expected to come in 400 years. As expected, humanity’s smartest and richest have thrown resources behind addressing the issue. One of the protagonists, while standing in a very 2020-core ransacked grocery store, essentially asks: Why not focus on the problems we can solve, right here and right now? Why focus on a distant possible future we won’t even be around to see?

It’s the same righteous feeling I have when watching this video of all the Einstein medical students learning that a billionaire donated her fortune to make tuition at their school free forever:

The vibe in the comment section is: Why don’t more wealthy people do this—address a tangible social problem like the inaccessibility of medical education? Your move, Taylor Swift.

But at the same time, foresight is important. Don’t we wish our recent ancestors cared just a little bit more about our futures to stop the global warming hell we’re entering today? 

The show asks: What should we strive to protect? Life today or life tomorrow? Can we do both? Do we want to?

In that episode—again, without doing any spoiling—there’s also a stark reminder of what biologically keeps us from going on and on forever.

As cancer writer George Johnson put it (in an article that I, an extremely nerdy and anxious high school junior, was inexplicably obsessed with in 2014): Eventually, if other killers like heart disease don’t get there first, the cascade of cellular mutations and proliferations that underpin cancer is there waiting at the end.

Yes. Womp, womp.

But let’s imagine the science is there and we could…

Do we all even want to live forever?

Yes and no.

Some folks throughout history who were researching (and/or just plain ol’ obsessed with) longevity, even before that was a term, include:

• Aristotle, whose theory on aging was apparently that, as we age, our hot and wet bodies (mind, meet gutter) become cold and dry. He posited that increasing moisture delays aging. Something tells me Aristotle would’ve loved my Eucerin eczema body cream.

• Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huang failed in his quest to cheat death, but not before launching a national search for an “elixir of life.” Wikipedia says he might’ve died by taking an immortality pill that contained mercury, but there’s no footnote to corroborate it. (If you’re an ancient China historian, please let me know if this is true!)

• Unhinged Frenchman and physician Charles-Édouard Brown-Séquard (what a NAME) conducted longevity experiments on himself where he (I’m sorry) injected himself with fluid from young dog and guinea pig testicles and claimed this was followed by physical and mental rejuvenation. I regret to inform you this late 1800s concept (though not the METHOD) was the foundation of the eventual development of hormone replacement therapy, which is legit and great and NOT just for unhinged Frenchmen.

• Ilya Mechnikov—who apparently coined the term “gerontology”—conducted experiments on the longevity effects of Eastern European yogurt. This man is personally responsible for my mom forcing me to drink Danimals yogurt when I was a little kid even though I hated it and would cry (I am now a yogurt and kefir queen so it’s okay, thanks mom and Ilya).

• Clive McCay, whose research lab studied the connection between caloric restriction and longevity (AKA the branch of research anti-diet folks keep getting referred to when they beg society to please stop framing calorie control as an across-the-board healthy behavior, given what we know about its connections to disordered eating, xoxo a MyFitnessPal survivor) ((sidebar: this is part of why I couldn’t help but feel vindicated when these headlines recently dropped about a potential link between intermittent fasting and cardiovascular disease death)).

And that’s before we even hit World War II.

Today, we see the thirst for immortality in everyone from the Silicon Valley dudebros wanting to ride their investments’ compound interest forever to the romantasy-reading girliepops falling in love with thousand-year-old faerie hunks (don’t worry, I read ACOTAR too).

But as long as there’s been a search for the fountain of youth, there’ve been voices pointing out that it’s important for us to die—from arguments about ecosystem stability to Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis.

And if we take things more metaphorically, we’re always thinking about how to live forever, even through legacy, right? It’s one of my fave ways to calm my own existential dread, for sure (along with late-night trips to the bodega for my current preferred ice cream combo: chocolate and cookie dough flavors, mixed and mushed). I don’t think I want to have children (biology’s favorite way to keep us “living forever”), so my mortal body and DNA ends whenever it’s my time. 

(Thank you for bearing with the cheese of this ending.)

But maybe some of the weird things I’ve written might live on in someone’s memory. Or some archive. My dream, of course, would be for some future History of Science student to write a thesis about pandemic-era medical satire and have one of my weird short-form pieces be a footnote (maybe this one?)

In the meantime, I’ll comfort myself with 6th-grade Kasia’s take on immortality after first reading the Twilight Saga: It would be a real bummer to be immortal and watch all the people around you die. Yes, even the cyberbully from middle school.

I continue to stretch every day so I can maybe one day kick like Alice Cullen

But seriously, I need Stephenie Meyer to explain what kind of therapy her immortal vampires are getting to cope with all their grief. Bella’s dead dad trauma when she inevitably outlives Charlie would make her a fascinating member of the DDC (iykyk).

Plus, living forever means enduring endless dental visits, and who wants that?

---

One last thing before you go (okay, fine, two):

1. Have you ever used a longevity product? If so, please please tell me about it! I’m very curious to hear about folks’ experiences.

2. As a kid, what was your least favorite animal? #justiceforhyenas