'People Thought I Was Drunk, But I Was Dying'

For as long as I can remember, I have had a nut allergy, predominantly to peanuts and almonds. When I was 15, I had my first anaphylactic reaction as a result of eating nuts. Although I recovered from this, the summer of 2009 changed everything for me.

I moved to London from East Sussex that year. I was 24 years old and excited about living in a big city and meeting new friends. During that year, I picked up a few jobs, one of which was working part-time at a local bar. I became very good friends with a girl called Alana.

One night that summer, I was out with my friends on a Friday evening. Being in east London's Brick Lane was an amazing experience for me; I fell in love with the fact that I could buy bagels and curry in the same place.

It was a wonderful, busy, bright, bustling place to be on a warm summer evening. Alana and her friends had taught me to barter with business owners outside restaurants for the price of our meal. It was exciting to say, "We'll have two starters' main courses with a bottle of wine thrown in for a cheaper price."

After some time, we settled on a place that made Indian food. Although the food did not contain nuts, I knew that there was a possibility of there being traces of nuts, but I was very laid back. My family often warned me about this, but I was young and wanted to have fun.

As I began eating with my friends, I started feeling a reaction to the nuts surfacing. I began to get hot; my face went red and hives surfaced on my skin. I then began to sneeze a lot, and I thought "No, no. Not today." Rather than going home, I used my EpiPen.

Once the reaction subsided, I thought that I could go clubbing with my friends. Although my face still looked slightly puffy, I felt fine. Looking back, I was probably being naive and a little irresponsible, because I was young and excited.

At the bar, the music was pumping. The garden was lovely; the sunshine was out. We checked our coats and bags into the cloakroom, and we then went to the bar and drank some beer. I had also had a glass of wine prior to that. But whilst I was sipping my Corona, I began to feel very hot again, and extremely dizzy. I felt extremely nauseous, so I ran to the bathroom. But as soon as I reached the cubicle, I collapsed on the floor.

At that moment, I had lost my bodily function. I could hear things, but I wasn't aware of the voices around me. I couldn't move or see anything. I felt very hot. I was shaking and I was itching.

I just wasn't in control. Alana and I had gotten very close over that summer, we had traveled and worked together, so she knew about my nut allergy before this, and that I could go into anaphylaxis.

So, Alana went to the bathroom to check on me and found me on the floor. She quickly asked one of our friends to go and get my EpiPen and find assistance from a female, as males were not allowed in the bathroom to help me. At that point, I was aware that my friends had called an ambulance.

But one moment changed everything. A woman who claimed to work in healthcare came into the bathroom and insisted that I wasn't in a life-threatening condition, but that I was just drunk.

Although I was too ill to react, I heard her yelling something along the lines of, "What are you doing? She's had too much to drink. I've seen it all before, I work in healthcare. She's not ill."

Because of this, I was later told that my ambulance was canceled. Although anaphylaxis may appear to be harmless, the use of an EpiPen may not stop the reaction, but only slow it down. If left unattended for a long period of time, it could not only result in a blockage of airwaves but heart failure.

This woman had said that she worked in healthcare, and because she spoke with such authority, she was credible and believed.

Alana became very angry and yelled that I was in a life-threatening condition and needed medical assistance as soon as possible. I had never seen her speak so passionately and with so much authority.

Because of this, one of the male security guards, who had been at the door of the female toilets, assessed the situation for himself. He quickly went into the toilet, picked me up, and put me and Alana in a taxi to the hospital.

Looking back at that night, I brushed off my allergic reaction because I wanted to spend time with my friends. I'd had reactions earlier that year and would sometimes brush them off due to the fear of being vulnerable, or embarrassed.

When we arrived at the hospital that night, I was placed in urgent care. I was put into a hospital bed and given a cannula. I was then given steroids, antihistamines, and adrenaline. My mum drove down from West Sussex to the hospital to be there with me. It was a horrible night.

Following that, some of my friends made me a medical bracelet, to help me if I was ever in a similar life-threatening situation.

A few days following the incident, I began to process everything. I was angry at myself for not going home, but I was also angry at the woman for assuming that I was drunk. But I learned from this moment, and it influenced me to begin working as a performance coach in influence and communication in 2014.

At the beginning of my presentations, I often tell this story to show that often, people who have loud voices and are compelling can really mislead a situation. That is why we all need to have a voice to fight for what we believe in.

If Alana hadn't spoken up, I don't know where I would be. She had to step out of her comfort zone to connect with someone passionately and with ferocity and integrity. I now help people to be able to do that in the different moments of their lives where it matters the most.

I think it can be very scary to be vulnerable and it can feel intensely uncomfortable to need other people. That's why I often brush off my nut allergy. But you need champions in your life. I learned that my voice is important and it matters in any situation.

Alexandra Bond Burnett is a leading performance coach, speaker, and podcast host. You can find out more information about her here.

All views expressed in this essay are the author's own.

As told to Newsweek associate editor, Carine Harb.