At 37

Was reading an article this morning in the NYT about a 37 year old Stanford medicine neurosurgeon who died of lung cancer. 37. Insane. Life is so fragile. There's so much philosophy around how to live - how fragile or strong should we think ourselves? Do we jump out of a plane at 30,000 ft, putting our lives at the mercy of a parachute? Or do we webMD every symptom and ache? I have adrenaline junkie friends and hypochondriac friends alike... Not sure where on the spectrum brings the most happiness.