You don’t need a doctor or a hospital or an insurance company to splint a broken arm. Get a friend with a plank and some gaffer’s tape and a pint of bourbon.
When I broke my ribs a few years ago I didn’t even bother going to the ER, because I knew that they’d do exactly the same thing I was going to do myself — strap a big Ace bandage around my chest — but charge me a couple thousand bucks to sit around waiting in a dingy plastic chair for a few hours first. If a lung got fatally punctured, well, I wouldn’t be around to bemoan my condition. So it goes.
