I blame myself for the death of my father. I should have known what was wrong. I could have done something to help him. I still dream of the morning my mother got the call. Her scream haunts me still. I dream of him dieing over and over again. So I take more of my sleeping meds so I don't dream. I took a weeks worth at one time. In a way I regret waking up. I am so sorry I didn't help you. I did the best I could.