I answered my phone one afternoon, expecting to hear DD2's voice. It wasn't, it was one of her friends. She'd taken four boxes of paracetamol and two of cold remedies from her father's kitchen. The only reason anybody knew was that the overdose of decongestant made her collapse.
He always insisted that the law on painkiller sales was 'the fucking idiotic nanny state' and he had frequently criticised me for infantilising her because I still kept medicines and sharp items locked up, either, because 'only idiots do that with anybody over 6'.
When they tried to find a vein for the antidote - which was damn near impossible, due to the effect of the decongestants, they found she'd been cutting for months, as there was always something sharp left laying around at his house.
Had she not collapsed from the decongestants at 3.25pm, she'd have gone home and been alone until he got in from work whatever girlfriend he'd been seeing when he was supposed to be parenting his daughter sometime between 11.30pm and the following evening. He said he was 70 miles away when he got the call instead of the 12 minute drive from his workplace, at any rate. Still took him 3 hours to get there.
Had they not been laying around in his house, she'd have had to find money, then find somewhere willing to sell that amount of medication over the course of days/weeks so they wouldn't recognise her and somebody willing to break the law and sell her the bladed items she'd been using.
By the time I saw her, she was sobbing because they said they couldn't make her sick to get them out of her system and had to work out exactly what she'd taken and when to see if there was enough time left to administer the antidote. She had very much lost the impulse to end her life at that point.
I had chronic pain. My medication was locked up in a cashbox at my house. But he had a large quantity easily accessible - and she had the impulse and the means right at the same time.
Restricting sales saves people with a transient impulse where sheer luck doesn't.