"I won't be going back."

I went in with extreme pain in my throat and mouth, stomach cramps and vomiting. The first person I spoke to asked me outright if I had taken an overdose, and I said I had not. She asked if I was sure, and I denied an overdose.

I was then given some paperwork and sent to a another set of seats to wait. While waiting, I looked at the paperwork I had been given and saw a record of a suicide attempt by overdose a year before had been printed out and stapled to another sheet detailing why I was there. The overdose was treated in York District Hospital and that record was printed and attached, despite my denials.

When I was taken to a cubicle, I was asked again if I had taken an overdose, and I said I had not. Bloods were taken, and I was given fluids as I was dehydrated. No explanation for my illness was given, and a psychiatric referral was made despite my insistence it was not needed.

I was taken there by my dad, who also denied any overdose and was ignored. He then took me to Kingston Hospital and, within an hour and with exactly the same information, diagnosed a fairly common reaction to a new medication I had taken to first ever dose of that morning, albeit a severe form of that reaction.

They gave me anti-nausea medication and painkillers to take home, and a leaflet about the medication in question.

West Mid had, somehow, found out about a suicide attempt a year before from another hospital and became fixated on it. I had taken a single dose of a new medication the day the illness started but this was deemed irrelevant and they simply would not listen to anyone, convinced I had overdosed and totally missing what was really going on.