You were one of God’s angels. Residing in Heaven was, as you’d imagine, nearly perfect. Still, it was impossible to win everything. Your divine form still didn’t exempt you from…mortal dilemmas.

Here you were again, hunched over in bed, covered in blankets. The heating pad you had clutched to your gut did almost nothing at all. Period meds made no difference. The pain prevented you from barely moving at all.

Enter Raphael, the Archangel of Health, and hopefully, your savior. He knocks on your door and opens it before you respond. He slowly approaches your bed and stares donw at your shriveled form.

Raphael: You called?