Chapter Five: The New World
Jehovah's eyelids fluttered as he woke from his short-term comatose-like vegetative slumber. Drool drooping down and off his face. He lifted his hand from the bed. Under the cocooning blanket that huddled tightly around his body. He took the back of his hand weakly wiping the spit off his face and around his mouth and quickly swallowed the saliva that had built up in there, slurping.
He found himself back in his chambers. Where an open windowsill allowed gentle brushes of air to enter. The white silken curtains billowed inwardly, coasting on the drafts of wind that kept them afloat.
Daybreak's daylight reached through the same sections as the curtains, operating as shutters to control the duration of sunlight entering the room. Sometimes there was a lot of light in the room, but most of the time it was dim. It depended on how the curtains were positioned.
He was not alone. Several figures hovered around Jehovah's bedside, including his wife, whose hands rested on her hips, and a doctor from the Second Provisions, a chain of authority tasked with heaven's disaster relief.
Ariel was also present, wearing an ashamed expression. Knowing her inability to save God in their last encounter with the Devil's generals, Capacious and Rel, she didn't feel worthy of her title as Archangel.
Being the newest addition to the group and the youngest among all the Archangels at only 23 years of age, she had hoped to have mastered her role by now. It was clear to her and everyone else that she had fallen short.
Ariel felt defeated and withdrew from Jehovah's wake, taking a slight step back into the middle of the group.
Gabriel stepped forward, taking her place to lean on the bed by placing his hand on the comforters.
Jehovah's gaze met Gabriel's, and they exchanged a smile.
There stood the legendary Gabriel the Archangel, a youthful fellow; he was considerably younger than God, and Ariel wasn’t much younger than him. His top was shaggy and thick, with dirty blonde hair. His eyebrows were thicker and darker than the hairs on his head or the stubble he had growing on his chin. Gabriel was a fair angel; some would dare to say the fairest. He took care of his wife, child, and mother. He was honest, cheerful, and a kind fellow; he possessed all the traits of a good person. He was the salt of heaven, a preservative that, without him, would be bland.
Jehovah, overcome by lassitude, asked faintly and directly. “How long have you been back?"
“I’ve been home for some time. Three days, but don’t worry about me. Conserve your energy, rest,” Gabriel replied sincerely.
Apathetically looking at the ceiling and somewhat disengaged from his surroundings, Jehovah repeated what had been said and asked, “Three days...huh? How long was I out for this time?”
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The doctor joined the conversation and replied, “You have been unresponsive for about a week now.” Gabriel scooched to the side, letting the doctor check on Jehovah. “They found you in the forest nearby." He said, "You almost manage to get yourself back home, but not quite.”
The doctor put his various medical equipment on the bedside table next to the lone chair no one bothered to sit on. He then grabbed hold of the stethoscope around his neck, attaching the tubal earpieces to his ears and carrying the big metal "chest piece" or "head" of the stethoscope in his hand, placing it onto Jehovah's diaphragm. When examining Jehovah, he noticed a slight discrepancy in his breathing. The diaphragm contracts and flattens, increasing the volume of the thoracic cavity and allowing the lungs to expand and draw in air. Conversely, when the diaphragm relaxes and returns to its dome shape, the volume of the thoracic cavity decreases, leading to exhalation. The real urgency wasn't in Jehovah's heavy breathing; although it was a problem, he could feel the heart’s sporadic palpitations through the bell. He moved the bell to the most vital organ, the heart, and the kinetic energy from the dramatic beating could both be felt and heard.
Immediately scratching his chin, he mentions to Jehovah, “Your heart's racing, sire." Jehovah focused on inhaling diaphragmatically. The heart rate dropped by about 15 bpm. “I’ll be right back.” The doctor went to the bedside table and opened his bag, pulling out a sphygmomanometer. He explains, returning to Jehovah, “While you were sleeping, I rehydrated you the best I could. I wasn't able to administer the I.V because, well, the needle kept snapping when I tried. Your skin is denser than diamonds, probably more so than even that. I had one of my nurses give you liquids orally by squirting water into your mouth with a plastic syringe. That went on for about an hour. She said it was difficult. So, if your mouth is wet and full, that’s what you’re feeling."
All the others in the room let the doctor do his thing. He removed the Velcro from the cuff, tightly wrapped it around Jehovah’s upper arm, constricting the arteries, and then fastened the strap back on, securing the cuff firmly in place.
He grabbed hold of the small rubber ball, the bulb, and inflated the cuff by squeezing. Here, he squeezes the bulb many times, forcing air into the cuff. The cuff bloats out and up, like a pufferfish, and works in a similar way too. He read, from the meter attached to a separate catheter, Jehovah's up-and-down heart rate. It jumped out at him right away. The valve could finally be heard decompressing what p.s.i. was in the device.
He repeated the squeezing process, getting a better reading on Jehovah's heart condition. It was off the charts, but back and then off again. There was an ease that was bringing it down, but the conjunctions in which his heart decided to beat are off-putting, to say the least.
The doctor fixed his white coat and gathered his things by the bed and the table. He said, “I have something to discuss with the nurses.”
“Why? Is there something bad going on, Doctor Ellis?" Mary said, "Tell me..." She was waiting to speak—a sort of best-for-last thing—but that is not really what it is. No, she did not want to disturb her husband or anyone, for that matter, with her worries.
“I’ll give it to you straight." The doctor, who was with his bag in his hand and coat folded over on his arm, said this by the door. “Yes and no. He’s improving as we speak.” Jehovah lifted his upper body from the bed, feeling immediately better as the doctor talked. The doctor explains furthermore to them, “He’s regenerating slowly.”
“Yes!” Gabriel cheered.
Ariel put her hands together in a prayerful manner, and Mary had both of her hands encapsulating her mouth, nose, and chin. They were thankful once again.
Gabriel: “This is good news!”
Ellis: “It’s very good news.” Doctor Ellis gazed at Jehovah, and Jehovah met the look of concern. They knew the greater problem; yes, he was fine, but he couldn’t pull another stunt like this again.
He left Jehovah’s chambers, leaving him with friends and family. That’s who Jehovah should be next to in his time of need: company. The big end-of-life discussion that will soon be discussed required the same palliative care he would.