You've got to die of something. It won't be any of the diseases I was vaccinated against as a child, it's unlikely to be starvation, and I'm not working in an industry that is famous for fatal accidents. There is hardly any chance of me dying in childbirth -- and in any case, that would be recorded as a uterus transplant gone horribly wrong. I love life waayyy too much to be thinking of suicide. So that leaves precious little besides lifestyle-related causes for me to die of. Obesity, drug abuse or smoking. Which I'll gladly take over polio, whooping cough, measles, malnutrition, being crushed in a machine, dying with a baby halfway out of me (it's an alternate history, I'm allowed to be cis in it) or picking up a fatal infection during / after surgery any day of the week, thank you.
I'm also not bothered about winning any "best-preserved body in the cemetery" awards.