[Name redacted] knew something wasn’t right with her, she was experiencing bleeding from the bum. I wasn’t nearby, could only speak to her by phone. I said to her “Go to the doctor!” but she detested visiting doctors and hospitals, and said to me and another friend; if it wasn’t right she would go to the doctor on the Monday.
Monday didn’t arrive… She had a sudden heart attack caused by a clot arising from the internal bleeding.
The last words I remember from her, over the phone, in a small voice, were “[my name redacted] can you come? I’m scared…”
I said: “No, mate, I have to work tomorrow” and she answered in an equally small voice “I understand”.
Two-three days later when her phone no longer answered, I went there physically and with the help of police, broke in and found her.
It’s called “survivor’s guilt” of course I can never forget those last conversations. Nor when I had to call friends and family to explain what had happened. I did what was necessary after that.