I lost my husband of 38 years in early November 2016 to gastric cancer.  He had his official diagnosis October 30,2015.  From there we spent going through chemotherapy every 2 weeks.  He finally had a break in July and his mri couldn't show the cancer.  Then, we rejoiced even though he had been told his cancer was Stage 4 and there was no cure.  That he had 'months' instead of 'years' to live. It's been a hard year, living in trepidation and probably anxiety to see what the next petscan/mri/cat scan would show.  During the time he had no treatment, we enjoyed our time, trying to get back into life we knew again. But it was not the same.  However, we dealt with this life as well as we could with no treatment. When it was time to be checked again, we found out the cancer had grown back.  This was after Labor Day weekend.  A new 'regimen' would be started as the former chemo  would not work now.  This regimen would be every  3 weeks instead of 2. It was stronger.  His hair started falling off.  The realization hit us big time.  The nausea did not go away. He got tired and weak. When it was time for the next treatment after 3 weeks, he had made up his mind not to continue treatments anymore. This was a major life decision we then faced. I didn't really believe that he would be gone. The last 10 days of his life were spent in the hospital as he had to have pain meds intravenously.  He never ate again. Just liquids and lots of ice.  This was very hard but he would still talk to us until the last morning. He passed in his deep slumber. I am still in deep mourning and sometimes I don't know if I can take another day.