On my Dad's side...
Grandpasquirrel was fiercely independent. On one occasion aged 80-something he was stanidng on the back of his pickup truck chopping wood when he fell off, splitting his head open.

Rather than call an ambulance, he clamped a handkerchief over the bloody wound and drove himself the 15 miles to the nearest hospital, much to the amazement of the A&E staff who admitted him.

Sadly he was also fairly paranoid about going as doolally as all his mates, and he topped himself about a year later as he didn't want to be a burden on his kids.

I didn't cry much as over the course of time he'd never once called me by name, preferring to refer to me as 'boy', which used to drive my mother to a state of apoplexy (then again, so does channel 4).
(squirrelysquirrel, Fri 3 Jun 2011, 3:11, Reply)