My dad cut his index finger off on a table saw back in the 50s. He picked it up out of the sawdust, put it in a bag of ice, wrapped his bleeding hand in a pillow case, and drove himself to hospital. The surgeon took the severed digit from him and dropped it in the bin, then, under local anaesthetic, took a pair of side cutters to the wound to shorten the remaining bone. When he cut it off it ping-ed up into the light and bounced into dad's face. Cutting the bone shorter meant there was then enough skin and flesh to be able to sew it together over the end of the finger. Three stitches later, and clutching a bottle of paracetamol, he drove himself back home.
Are you telling me they do things differently these days?