This is something I think about all the time and it is the topic of many sober discussions at 4 a.m. with my wife over coffee.
I have always bowhunted alone and since moving here from Illinois in 1981, I have hunted alone on remote tracks of public land, and I have always accepted that it is inherently dangerous. I have had several close calls over the years.
I'm 53 and I'm in the best shape I've been since high school. Still, you can die from a broken ankle out here and the way I hunt, lots of running and jumping and stuff, often under the influence of adrenalin, that can border on the plain nuts. But I am hyper careful when I do stuff like that. And most of the time I move like a banana slug.
I try to take reasonable precautions. I carry a cell phone and a good first aid kit, and I know how to plug leaks and splint things. But yeah, I know what a broadhead can do and I know if I take one in my femoral artery, I have just about enough time for a very frank conversation with the Man Upstairs.
To me it is an acceptable risk based on the depth of my passion. It's the same reason I let my tomcat out at night. He's going to get caught by a coyote one night, but it's what he is. I can't deny him that. And that's why my wife puts up with it from me, I guess.