One more shot and I'll be gone

Defeat, as far as I can tell, cannot happen unilaterally — victory can only ever be permitted, not seized. But me, I give in too easily. Tenacity is for tanks, and I was never a good one. Always the squishy sort, I only know how to abide the attacks and just mend each blow until the beating stops or I run out of healing spells. There are too many days that find me bled-out and broken before noon. Who mends the medic? I know dealing damage is your specialty, but surely you have a bandage or two in that alpaca saddlebag. Not even at death's door, it would seem, can I manage to take anything seriously. My last breath, well I guess it might as well be a silly one.