• Gary Brecka is a biologist who worked on predicting mortality for insurance companies.
• He's 56 and hopes to live to 120.
• He's purchased hyperbaric chambers and red light beds, but says sleep and community are more important.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Gary Brecka, co-founder of Ultimate Longevity Center. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm a biologist, and for years, I worked helping insurance companies try to predict exactly when their customers might die. I also expect to live to 120 — and I'm only 56 today.

Everyone on earth has a predicted life expectancy, based on large-scale data. When I worked for insurance companies, I used their data to analyze the specific factors that affected individual life expectancy.

What I found surprised me. For example, high blood pressure wasn't always associated with increased mortality. A lot of data from insurance companies ran counter to mainstream medical dogma.

My work was sometimes grim. One day, I found a potentially deadly medical error in a patient's chart, but I had no means to tell her. That was the day I decided I wanted to stop working to predict death and start helping people live longer, happier, healthier lives.

Skip the diets and cleanses, but move daily

A lot of longevity work isn't flashy. It's about the same healthy habits that we all know we should practice. If you show me someone's daily habits, I'll show you where they'll be in three to five years.

There's no evidence for dogmatic dieting, whether that's following keto, carnivore, or any other dietary trend. What extends life is the absence of processed foods. Likewise, you don't need to cleanse: if you're peeing, pooping, and sweating, you're already living a detox lifestyle.

Unsurprisingly, exercise is critically important. I know from working in insurance that a sedentary lifestyle is one of the biggest risk factors for death: sitting is the new smoking. Daily mobility is non-negotiable for me — I block off time for it on my calendar daily.

Put sleep on the calendar and don't use your phone in bed

Sleep is one of the most critical aspects of longevity. It's our human superpower, the time when our brains clear waste and form memories. And yet, sleep is the most bullied part of most people's calendar. It happens only after everything else is done.

I take the opposite approach: sleep is the first thing I put on my calendar. I am meticulous about keeping a solid sleep schedule, and I make my bedroom a sanctuary. To get good sleep — and all the health benefits that come with it — your nervous system needs to be regulated and relaxed.

I bring my phone into the bedroom, but put it on airplane mode. I don't scroll, watch TV, send work emails, or do anything else that could put my nervous system on high alert.

Build community around healthy habits

How often have we heard a story about spouses who have been married for decades, dying in quick succession? That's because relationships are critical to longevity — and they're something money can't buy. Your community and connections have a huge impact not only on your lifespan but also on your health span.

My kids range in age between 18 and 28, spanning all of Gen Z. Their peers are realizing how important community is. Run clubs are becoming more popular among that demographic. It's not just about physical health — anyone can lace up their sneakers and run a 5K — but about the community building that takes place before and after exercise.

We should all take a page from their books. Building social space with like-minded people who share your passions and purpose will help you live longer.

I've spent big on health technologies

The basic tenets of longevity — sleep, community, exercise, and unprocessed foods — will allow me to live a happy, healthy life. And they don't come with an unattainable price tag.

Because I have the means, I also use expensive technologies that can further support my health. I've spent well into seven figures on health technology, including saunas, cold plunges, red light beds, and hyperbaric chambers at my two houses.

I'd rather have a hyperbaric chamber than a Ferrari, and a red-light bed than a Rolex. But I also know that you can't skip the basics of healthy living, no matter what cutting-edge technology you have access to.

• Nikita Chernetskii moved to New York City from rural Moldova when he was 18.
• He joined the Army and worked as a combat medic, which gave him a sense of purpose.
• He was worried about affording med school and starting a family.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nikita Chernetskii, a medical school student at New York University's Grossman School of Medicine. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I've wanted to be a doctor since I was a little boy. In Moldova, where I was born and raised, you apply to medical school right after finishing high school. As I was applying for medical schools, my parents won the green card lottery, giving our family the chance to come to the US.

Suddenly, I had a huge choice in front of me. Do I take the chance to go to the US, or keep pursuing my dream? I'd always been raised on the idea that the American dream was alive and well. I was also young and naive: I thought I could just apply to medical school once I got there.

I'll never forget landing at JFK in August with my parents and sister, who was in fourth grade at the time. I'd never seen a building taller than nine stories, and suddenly I was looking at the Manhattan skyline. It was surreal. I can still remember the smell as we left the airport, of hot asphalt and summer in the city.

I felt like I was in limbo, seeing my friends chase their dreams

Living in the US was a shock, to put it mildly. New York was so, so different from the rural area of Moldova where we'd lived. I'd gone to an English-speaking high school, but it was set up according to old Soviet standards. Once I was in the US, I realized that I'd been taught English for people who would never speak English: my grammar was excellent, but my vocabulary was very limited.

I knew life wouldn't wait for my dreams. My dad and I started working as porters, making about $500 a week. Part of the job was taking out the trash to the dumpster, but I was pretty happy doing that. The pay was more than I would ever make in Moldova.

I realized that going to med school in the US wasn't realistic. I didn't have the money and didn't understand how college worked here. That sent me into a period of limbo. I would work and save money just to go visit friends in Moldova. I saw them moving toward their goals, while my life stayed the same. Psychologically, it wasn't the greatest time for me.

Joining the military reaffirmed my desire to be a paramedic

On one of those trips home, a friend suggested I join the military. Within a month, I was marching in basic training. My poor English meant I couldn't always understand the directions. I just ran where the other recruits ran, and hoped it was right.

I scored well enough on my aptitude test to become a medic. The work was so fulfilling to me, and helped me cope with the rushed decision to join the military in what was still a foreign country to me.

I was deployed in Germany when the pandemic hit. I'd work 24-hour shifts, sleep for four hours, and get back to it. That's when others started telling me I should become a doctor. I realized that desire was still burning inside me, and I wouldn't be able to sleep well if I didn't at least try.

I leaned on every connection I had to help get into med school

I used the GI bill to pay for college. While I was there, I was accepted into the New York University internship program that pairs aspiring doctors with faculty. I worked with a trauma surgeon at Bellevue Hospital and knew I wanted to spend my life doing what he did.

When it came time for me to apply to medical schools, I knew I needed to be at NYU. I shook all the trees I could. I had no shame and asked anyone for help. The whole process was so stressful that it was almost a blur to me.

The idea of taking on half a million dollars in debt for medical school was frightening. I think I would have done it, but it would have meant delaying other goals, like having children with my wife.

This year, when I was accepted to NYU's Grossman School of Medicine's three-year, tuition-free medical program, it was surreal. When I dreamed of practicing medicine as a boy, I thought I'd be making $300 a month doing old Soviet techniques. Now, I'm learning cutting-edge science that feels like it's plucked from a sci-fi movie. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and I'm well on my way to my American dream.

• Jen Eaves' mother is 79 and lost more than $3,000 to online scams.
• Eaves now monitors her mother's finances and says that was a hard conversation.
• Digital caregiving is an important part of supporting aging parents, she says.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jen Eaves, Digital Caregiving & Elder Fraud Advocate at Aura. It has been edited for length and clarity.

It's an odd shift in dynamic when you start caring for the people who always cared for you. My mother is 79, and lives with my brother, who handles most of her day-to-day physical care. I'm the one who handles the administrative side of care, like scheduling doctor appointments and keeping her safe online.

About six years ago, my mom had a stroke, and while she recovered fairly well, she wasn't the same cognitively as she had been before. Around that time, I began noticing her falling for scams online.

Once, she ordered a cure for diabetes, which she has. The product was supposedly being sold by a famous TV doctor. When she showed me the video ad, I could see it was badly done AI, with the supposed doctor's lips not matching his words.

There have been other scams and pitfalls, too: online orders that never arrive, or even a legitimate credit card that my mom opened without realizing what she was doing. All in all, she's lost about $3,000 to scams, though I've been able to recover most of it through her bank.

I've realized that I need to take a more proactive approach to digital caregiving to protect my mom's finances. Here's what I'm doing.

Approaching from a place of help and dignity

After my brother and I had taken my mom's keys away, her phone became her connection to the world. I wanted to respect that. While some people have to restrict their older parents' access to phones, that didn't feel right in my case.

It was critical to me that my mom kept her dignity and as much independence as possible. At the same time, I saw there was an emotional side to falling for a scam: she would feel frustrated and confused when it happened, and I wanted to spare her those negative emotions.

I never want my mom to feel like I'm parenting her. Instead, I pointed out the patterns I was seeing and emphasized I'm here to help if she's willing to let me be involved. The choice, ultimately, is hers. This would be a lot harder if she wasn't willing.

Talk about scams

My mom wasn't particularly tech savvy, even before her stroke. I've had to educate her about what scams look like. When she shared the famous doctor video, I pointed out the aspects that seemed AI-generated to me. I remind her that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I emphasize that urgency is a big sign of a scam. The bank, I tell her, is never going to call you.

Once, she had a scam caller claiming to be Apple support. They asked for her Apple ID and password, which would have given them access to pretty much everything she has online.

Because of our conversations, my mom hesitated. She patched me into the call and asked the scammer to explain the situation to me. I was very proud that she recognized the scam and knew to ask me for help.

I monitor my mom's accounts

I worked in cybersecurity at Aura, which offers a lot of great products for keeping kids safe online. But my experience with my mom made me realize we were missing a whole vulnerable population: older adults.

I helped develop Trusted Family Access, which allows family members like me to see alerts from their loved ones' accounts, with permission. This gives me peace of mind that I can catch any issues quickly. It's also made other aspects of caregiving easier, like handling medical appointments, because I have access to all my mom's information in one place.

When my mom was scammed, it felt like I was a victim too. I spent hours calling her bank and credit cards to get her money back. If she were to lose her savings, it would impact the whole family. I'm grateful we've found a solution that empowers both of us to keep her finances safe.