I’m currently watching my fit, athletic, handsome husband die from a disease he couldn’t help.   For what it's worth, I'm dying right now. Buried my wife about two months back. It's some consolation that both of us should have died ages ago. I apparently was already dying when we met. The cancer had almost certainly started working on her by that point too.  The doctors seem to think that in both our cases it was our dedication to health and fitness that kept us going so long. It's small consolation though. Some, but again, small. She was 34 when she died. It's hard to find much consolation in knowing someone that amazing had her life cut that short.  She was never big on bitterness. But man, there was this one fat smoker I'd always pass when sprinting to the pharmacy to pick up her meds. It's slightly annoying to think that she'll outlive both of us. My wife was always like "you can't know her story". But I'm a dying widower. We never had kids, so I at least don't have to ever suffer from losing a child. I'd assume that's the worst possible thing ever. But my own situation is probably second as far as personal tragedy goes. And I'm still exercising and eating right. At least when I can keep food down.  All that aside, I'm sorry again for what you're going through. I don't check here every day. But if you just need someone to talk to I'll eventually see any messages. I don't know what help I might be. But I was her primary caregiver the whole time she was on hospice. It sounds like you might be somewhat similar.