I still get blasted with guilt now and again. Two nights before he died he was complaining and whining he didn't feel good, he had eaten 2 pints of strawberries and we had had big salad for dinner. He also had a habit of being a big baby, so it was not unusual for me to ask him did we need to call the doctor or go to the hospital, to help me put things in perspective. So he let out a 5 minute fart, and all was better.
The night he died he started again, only this time it was 10:30 pm and I had to go to work in the morning. I asked him the question of hospital or dr, and he said no, so I proceeded to yell at him. 20minutes later I heard a crash and thud as he collapsed to the floor.
He died in the ambulance @ 12:48am.
I also deal with guilt as he had hep c and was technically on the liver transplant list, his weight was an issue though, and more than likely would not have made it to actually get a liver. Had he died from liver failure, that would not have been pretty. I would have had my sweet baby for at least 5-10 more years, but his death would have been slow and painful. About a year after he died, was the first time the thought flickerd in my head that I was a little grateful that I (and he) didn't have to go thru that. I was and am still horrified that I even allowed myself to think that.