I have broken both my ankles and my wrist since 1989.
In 1989, I broke my left ankle while ice-skating. I hobbled around for the next half hour, telling everyone around that I thought I had just sprained it. When I finally went to the doctor, I was quite surprised to find it was broken.
In 1999, I was standing on a chair in the backyard trying to reach a high branch (a former flatmate had made off with the ladder when he left) when the chair tipped and I fell, tangling my right ankle around the metal legs. This time I had to crawl across the backyard on hands and knees (not very nice on the concrete path), up 4 steps and in to the phone to ring my son. Fortunately he was home. By the time he got there, I had managed to sit on a lounge chair with my leg up on a cushion. This time I was pretty sure it was broken.
In 2001, I tripped at the top of 3 steps in an asphalt playground and landed on my left wrist at the bottom, smashing it badly. This time I was in no doubt at all that it was broken. Still I managed to sit on the ground and make a couple of calls on my mobile phone. My wrist is still not right - I will probably have to have a bone graft in a couple of months - meanwhile I have been learning to play the mandolin, and so far so good (cross fingers).
I tend to be very calm in emergencies. If I cut a finger, I just press something - a tissue or another finger hard up against it, and wander around looking for a bandaid. The sight of blood never worries me either.