Here’s the list of likely culprits:
The other day a colleague and I were trying to add up all the people we know who have been killed in the field, it was a shocking number of people.
I’m hoping that it’s “in the arms of a lusty peasant girl”, but my fear is that it will be associated with a cardiac event.
Cagers/Getting “Left-Turned”
My dad told me the greatest advice he could impart to me was not to age and get old, it sucks he claimed.
Great. I wasn’t worried about violence before, but now I’m worried I’ll be beaten to death with my favorite invertebrate.
So what do you worry about killing you?
Smalls
I’ve always felt that I’m going to die in a car crash. I don’t drive, and I’m very careful crossing the street. But I’ve almost been hit twice, and it scares me.
1)Fire
2)Fatal car crash in bad weather, likely snow
3)Fatal injury caused by an elderly or texting person (either while I’m walking or driving)
4)Illness (in odds of likeliness: cancer, respiratory, or cardiac related)
I am most afrad of burning. It could be a combo though, trapped in a wecked car and burning.
Projectile diarrhea. While singing the national anthem at the Super Bowl.
Well, I do sometimes worry about the typical things everyone else worries about, like being crushed to death in an automobile crash, or having my skull crushed by a disgruntled clown wielding an over-sized sledgehammer.
But the one fear I’ve had since I first gained consciousness and nearly every woken moment since that time, is that some very bad person of ill repute grabs me an puts me in a very tight-fitting coffin. He then buries me 30 feet deep in Beaver Creek Swamp, Louisiana. However, instead of burying me in the typical, comfortable, prone position, the bad man buries me vertically, head down, declinated 45 degrees posteriorly (this is quite a disorienting position to find oneself in).
Various tubes and wires are attached to my coffin to provide a free exchange of oxygen and naso-gastric alimentary nutrition in order to keep me alive for at least 30 years.
The bad man puts a colony of fleas in my coffin, knowing full well that I don’t have room enough to move my arms in order to scratch that which itches me. He also places a large, hairy spider in there, because he knows I’m an arachnophobe. Yeah, he’s a very bad man.
Perhaps worst of all, he places a small speaker just above my head that plays nothing but polka music 24/7 x 365 x 30+ years.
And, sometimes I worry about cancer.
I don’t think those are necessarily mutually exclusive. 
My Mom is currently sinking deeper and deeper into Dementia. She still recognizes my face, but can’t say my name. She also often thinks I’m my brother. So I fear that path more than death.
On the other hand, 20 years ago I watched my Father choke out the last two weeks of his life on oxygen in a hospital bed. I don’t plan to go out that way either, but the Universe often laughs at our plans. It seems some people are never destined to die easy.
Cancer. It’s not prevalent in my family, but it’s not exactly a rare problem, either. I’m most frightened of something like GBM where there’s basically nothing you can do except go through difficult treatments just to last a year past diagnosis and then die anyway. Plus I know I’d be the most pessimistic cancer patient ever, so I’d somehow hasten my own end. Sometimes I see blogs online with cheery greetings like “Watch me kick this stage IV melanoma’s ass! Fight on!” and I’m thinking “Dude, you’re gonna die, why bother?” That’s me, Captain Optimism.
Heart problems. We don’t really do clogged arteries or blood clots in my family, but we do do arrhythmias and valve problems.
A freak slip-and-fall home accident.
Becoming trapped or entangled in something and dying of thirst or rhabdomyolysis or whatever before someone finds me.
The one that I most rationally should be fearful of as potentially taking me out early is a bike accident … drivers be nuts. But it is low enough that I think the benefits are more than offsetting.
I most worry about dementia and loss of functional independence on the way out.
Melanoma got my mother but I still think moderate sun exposure is more plus side than downside. I’ve worried enough about the diabetes/cardiovascular death that got my Dad (and his Dad) to do things that have made my risks of those decreased substantially.
Probably I most worry about dying embarrassingly.
Agree 100%
I would die of embarrassment if my obituary read something like:
“…forensic pathologists concluded that he took a long drive off a short pier…”
or:
“… a Van Camp’s spokesman testified that he slipped on a banana peel into a scalding vat of Beanie Weenies…”
or:
*“…his gnawed skeletal remains were found in a den of voracious Long-eared chipmunks…”
*
or:
*“…the Blue-ringed octopus was found still clinging to the deceased man’s penis…” *