A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

There are reasons to stop resuscitation:
return of spontaneous circulation, or someone
more qualified takes over. There are studies
that suggest a time-based approach; no viable rhythm
after twenty minutes, and no known reversible causes.
And all the guidelines add:
if you are exhausted and cannot carry on.
I’ve always wondered, how long could I continue,
and it turns out the answer is just shy of fourteen years.
I need you to know I didn’t want to stop.
I heard them calling it. I heard them saying
it had been too long, we saw the changes
ages ago, the way the eyes glaze over,
peripheries pale and cold, no shockable rhythm
on the defibrillator, and even with ultrasound
we can’t place a line.  It’s over. Let it go. 
Even if you get a heartbeat now, the damage is done.
But I kept on, adrenaline and desperate shreds of hope.
I can’t lose this, lose you.  But you can’t lose something 
you never had. We were hypothermic and you know
what they say: you’re not dead till you’re warm and dead.
I demanded the intra-osseous, the vasopressors and inotropes. 
Heated blankets, heated fluids. I want you to know
I tried. 
I gave this my everything, and the one consolation
is that when the family asks me 
if I did all I could,
I know I can say yes. 
But I am exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, 
and I cannot carry on. 
Time of death: 4907 days, give or take.