In my family we have a rule: don't die from stupid. Dying after heroically saving a street urchin from a runaway carriage is perfectly acceptable (this scenario presumes you've mastered time travel). However, dying because you refused to go the hospital while bleeding profusely is unacceptable. Not that we won't support you if you do insist on doing something stupid... you'd just better be prepared for us to mock you incessantly.
I realize it says a lot about us that we needed to create this rule. See, for some reason the universe gifted us with an abundance of bullheadedness. I may be the Queen of Obstinacy, but the intensity of my will is a minor flicker to the Flamethrower of Stubbornness carried by Husband-cat, Mother Magoo and Aunt Macguff. Not that I ever stop trying to impose my will, what family member would?
Typical example: a few years back, I was shoe shopping with Aunt Macguff. She got tired, went to sit on one of those abominably low shoe fitting stools, and missed. She fell hard onto her left wrist, which then angrily swelled. We wanted to send her straight to the ER, but she weaseled her way out of it. Keep in mind, she's a retired nurse so the medical jargon flew fast and furious. We finally submitted to the onslaught and gave her a bag of frozen peas to ease the swelling. (A bag of peas! Seriously? She could have at least let us get her a proper ice pack!) It took her two days to admit that she had in fact gone to the doctor, and surprise, surprise her wrist really was broken!
Her logic for stalling us was classic: I thought my wrist was broken, but I really didn't want it to be because it was stupid.
My response, "Motherfucker! No she didn't! That's it! New rule! Don't die from stupid! Macguff to the hospital for anything! She can't be trusted!" And then I banged my head against the wall until I lost consciousness.
The problem with being crazy in a family of crazy is that you have no leverage.