I would rather spend my money on travel and such vs. trying to have the american dream that could be put up for sale by your local hospital.
I don't understand.
If you contact a hospital and set up a plan and then DO the plan, they will almost always (and I've never heard of the "almost", only the "always", but I'll put in "almost" just in case) work with you.
I had a plan in which we were to pay something like $25/month. They were awesome about it until we missed 2 payments, then they turned us over to collections. But if we'd continued to just pay the $25 it wouldn't have come to that; it was OUR fault.
If you need to use a doctor, a hospital, etc, just WORK with their billing people. In most, if not all, states there are ways for providers to work with those without insurance; while WA, for example, can't let you make a solid plan "this cost for those with insurance and that cost for those without", you can give a discount to whomever you wish. Hospitals often write off huge portions of bills. If you go to a Catholic hospital, there are Catholic charities that help pay bills. All you have to do is ASK.
So don't get all tweaky about not wanting to own anything so it can't be taken from you, when the likelihood of that happening, as long as you are in contact with the doctors/hospitals and making sure you follow whatever plan you've set up, is so so so so low.
This is an example of needing consent for treatment, not lack of treatment due to insurance issues. There are options that need to be discussed with an injury, and treatment would be based on that. Often broken bones are just splinted and seen by a doctor for casting within a few days. There was no rush if she was stable.
I agree. I've never had anything casted, but I've read countless times on the dis about the need to stabilize before you cast.
As a preteen, I took the end of my finger off in a door-slamming accident. My mom was off to work, and our neighbor heard me yelling as he left his house to come over and take us to the museum that day. He had absolutely no permissions to consent to treatment for me, so all we could do was wait for my mom to get to work, get the message to come home, and to get home (for everyone who wishes times were simpler and we weren't in the constant contact that cellphones allow for, there are moments like that where you desperately wish that a person could have been contacted while en route...). When she got home, I'd turned an orange towel an alarming shade of red, my face was very very pale, and I had no energy (while watching summer reruns of Love Boat). Only then could we head to the hospital.
I don't know if we had insurance or not, but I know the hospital wasn't going to treat me on neighbor Jim's say-so...