During times like these I always think back to when I had a purebred cat who I paid to be impregnated by another purebred stud -- and when she had her litter, the kittens were not very energetic.  On advice from vets, I spent the entire weekend laying on the floor by my cat and her kittens, helping her in her mother cat duties -- using baggies full of hot water as hot-water-bottles to warm up their little bodies, taking wash clothes and sort of roughing up the kittens the way the mother cat's tongue does when she cleans them (which stimulates their internal organs) and wiping their butts which stimulates pooping and peeing (kittens only poop and pee when their mother does this, otherwise they are incapable), and in general doing everything I could to help them stay alive, holding them right up to the mother cat's nipples and even holding their head up when they were too week to even do that, so they could focus what little energy they had on sucking the life-giving milk into their tiny bodies.
But over the hours, one by one, despite all I continued to do (like the furious flurry of life support given in emergency rooms) a kitten would grow too weak to even suck the milk, and then the little body would grow cooler and cooler, until finally it was cold and still. Dead.  By the end of the weekend, every last kitten had followed in this way to their death, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, although I may have slowed down the process.  With all my focused will, time and effort, I could not give those kittens what they lacked, which was the essential will to live, to hold on to life, that certain spark that burns within living things independantly of any external efforts such as mine.
It seemed that somehow they had been born without that internal re-generating energy, and were only surviving on the dying energy vestiges from their gestation in the mother.
At times like these, I feel that hub2B is one of these dying kittens- and I can't give him the will to live.