There are many things I will never be no matter how hard I try: a professional athlete, a movie star, and a hand model to name a few. And to name another, a necromancer. I've tried my hand at necromancy dozens of times. I've read all the books, practiced the incantations, mixed the potions, and collected the necessary talismans (talismen?). Unfortunately my Frankenstein skills suck - I still have no ability to raise the dead. But despite my protests to the contrary, the medics in my area refuse to believe this.
These rocket scientists brought me another corpse recently so I could try my hand at resurrection again. During a domestic dispute a young man in his 20s was stabbed with a kitchen knife by his girlfriend just above the left nipple - a perfect kill shot. After 30 minutes of struggling, she realised she would never be able to get his lifeless body up the basement stairs, so she finally called emergency services. They arrived a few minutes later to find him dead, so they did the only logical thing - they declared him dead and brought him to the morgue. Story over.
What, have you forgotten the subject of the post already? No, these geniuses started CPR on this stone-dead man, bundled him up, threw him in their ambulance, and deposited him, CPR still ongoing, in my trauma bay 20 minutes later. At this point he remained firmly deceased despite my fervent hand-waving and spell-casting. Maybe I mekalekaed when I should have makalakaed. I did what they refused to do - I allowed him his eternal rest and declared him dead.
Perhaps these guys had just watched Miracle Max bring the mostly-dead Westley back to life in "The Princess Bride". Who knows. Unfortunately, that's fiction. Until the medics finally grasp the concept of death being absolute, I will have to continue practicing (and failing) at the art of necromancy.