That happened to me - 13+ years ago, cracked a rib near my breastbone in the moshpit at Brixton, and let someone (who was in love with me, and therefore paranoid about my preciousness) talk me, over the phone, into going to my local A&E. Nagged, cajoled, bribed, threatened with dire tales... so, I did. Sounds good, except it involved me - car-less and skint at that time - painfully lugging an overnight bag on foot 2 miles to the hospital, only to sit in reception for 3 hours, get prodded about a bit and told it's not even worth doing an X-ray (which I agreed with) and sent home... And then of course, walking 2 miles, by then more like 1am, with a painful upper body, in the pouring rain - I'd have been far better off going to bed with a f***ing paracetamol, because I'd felt the bone crack, and apart from the obvious pain at the site, hadn't coughed blood, felt dizzy, had newts coming out my nostrils, or anything truly worrying. It was honestly one of the bleakest evenings of my life, and the only good to come out of it was, it hardened my faith in my own judgement. So to sum up, I can see how people get ambulances shoved upon them, when even if they need some EMT treatment, they don't need a pointless trip to hospital and would in fact suffer more if forced to go. Another good call it seems, Tom.