First Aid

Sometimes, you are denied of water. You are denied of real water most of the time actually, but you don’t even know that. Find a wild, remote river, and indulge in the water there. If you ever leave its side, you will roam around thirsty for the rest of your civilized lives. The word “plumbing” does not exactly conjure up any squeaky clean ideas does it? Yet plumbing is the very thing that brings the water that you use. For domestic purposes. It is the water you purify in a method that shows what kind of advertising you are most likely to fall for. The water that you drink passes through a process in the household, that makes you a demographic in advertising studies. Advertisers are interested in whether you boil and sieve your water, or pass it through a water purifier, or just a plain railway station filter at the outlet. They are interested in whether you store the water in metal vassals, earthen pots or large plastic barrels., that small children can easily drown in while playing hide and seek. They are also interested in those who drink it straight out of the tap, and straight out of the water purifier. They are also interested in how many glasses of water you drink in a day (an average was hard to attain, so they advertised the myth of eight glasses of water a day being optimum – this proposition has no scientific base). They probably even keep tabs on your water bills. Cola advertisers, should therefore, be in a position to calculate exactly how much fluid you have in your bladder. Pity they do not use this information in their campaigns. But let us ignore these bad times, and consider a glass of normally drunk water to be just a glass of normally drunk water. Sometimes you are denied of that water too. Even when you try to drink it. Your body does not allow you to ingest this liquid. Your sub consciousness blocks your through, smothers it from within, twists and turns the food and wind pipes around each other in serpentine ways, and you choke. You choke and you vomit out the thing you were choking on. You realize its water. Woah. How your throat burns when it is denied of water. Your body was to be quenched, and the very underforce of life betrayed you. The blood of the rivers that fueled civilization revolted against it. Water escaped from your throat leaving behind an acute dementia of rejection. You suck in the air in short gasps, but it is smothering you. Your lungs do not need air. You throat needs water, and it is choking.

1. First start with encouraging to cough, where the patient is encouraged to cough in hope of dislodging the object.

You gather your stomach together. It is a movement very much like vomiting. You perform it, on instinct. You cough, and your tongue travels slowly around the mouth marshalling every bit of saliva it can find. There, you spit it out, all the remaining water. Your mouth is dry, your throat is parched, your neck is red, and your tongue is hanging out, your silent quivering lips shrugging off that thin strand of saliva still connected to the blob on the floor. And you pant, not caring that the hot air is burning the throat, and you are giving up on air even. You feel the blood rising up into your head. You feel it pushing your eyeballs out. You feel it grinding the teeth together, and you can feel nothing else, a slow blackness is encompassing you, you see a flash of a burning city, and you pass out.

2. Secondly once the casuality is too tired to cough anymore up to ten back slaps can be given.

Someone stabbed you in the back! There is a sharp pain shooting out of the middle of your spine, invigorating your nerves in a primal evolutionary channel. They burst into maddened independent activity. They body was devoid of energy, but the genes in you were ready for this a hundred and eight millennia ago. They utilized nothing but the potential energy of your bent back. Nothing but the very mass of the bones… the nerves just twitched the spine, ever so slightly in just the right places. What resulted was a snap in your back that only the sub consciousness could perform. You were jolted awake. It wasn’t a blackout… yet. You continued to cough. Short, silent, painful gasps. Caught for a long time in a primal, monotonous, smothered scream. Like saying the letter A and going really low… then stretching your tongue further down the throat. You get a hoarse sound of broken As in rapid succession. A cringe in the folds of the neck vibrating just to leave small gaps out in the sound. This is the opposite of the sigh of relief. Wonder why it didn’t become a “cliché” and therefore, easier to explain. Your mind is blank. It is not capable of thinking. There is blood all over your brain, and your eyes are blurred. Parts of your body is disengaged from others. You wonder why your saliva just became so hot. You wonder how you had so much more of it. You wonder why it feels so viscous and thick. You wonder how you are drooling it and ejecting it in coughs at the same time. Your eyes focus on a particularly splashed out blur, and it strikes you. Your saliva is red. But why is it red? You have no clue. You decide you must be seeing things. Better to relax for a while and go to sleep now.


3. Third the Heimlich maneuver is to be performed.

You are out. You hear the voices, of the city burning. Of someone rushing in, after opening the door. You thought the door was locked. You were wrong. They rush in, and they have voices of concern. They are asking you, politely at first, whether you need help. They do not immediately panic. Then one of them looks around. Spots the bottle of water. “Oh my god they got him!” Someone shrieks. Then there is a lot of confusion. People moan and sigh and scold you. One of them suggests you are an innocent little kid, and tries to save you. She reaches out to your heart, and tries to make it beat. They do not realize your heart is beating, and you really are, only sleeping. You are dreaming sweet dreams in fact, and are not in a particular mood to wake up. She says “No one must have told him”. “He should have read it in the papers this morning”. He is a naughty kid that way, he does not read newspapers in the morning.” You think… hmm… why should I have read the newspaper’s in the morning? History would come and get me everyday then. History is the biggest sin that mankind has indulged himself in. It is common opinion that history is written by the winners. This is wrong. This is not true. Hannibal was not a loser. Genghis Khan was not a loser. The British Empire was not a loser. America is a loser, but unfortunately, they lack a history. America is about the only place that has the open mindedness to criticize itself, and therein lies its biggest mistake. It is also common opinion that history is written in text books. This is also wrong, and untrue to an even greater degree. History is not something written in textbooks. Textbooks are the kind of sources of history you need to be aware of. Not because they are written by winners, but because they are written by advertisers. I am talking about the kind of overzealous cultural advisers we find trying to propagate tradition and religion, two twins that founded civilization. No, history is written everywhere. Sparta never died. Sita killed Ravan. Alexander was not a demon. Genghis Khan was not a demon. Bonaparte and Gandhi were not angels. George W Bush would have performed antimiracles of rains of oil and loads of captured Iraqis for S&M fun if he really was the fucking anti-christ. You know this is true because history is written in your heads. In the room around you. In the culture and tradition and religion that you inherited. In the water purifier in your house and every bit of advertising that made you buy it. History is in the politics, in manners, in the syntax of language and in your blood. History is the collective past of an entire race, and all its observations. It is the present, and every single human decision taken to bring us humans to this present. Every obscure individual that lived before you has contributed to the history that you are. Sun Tzu was an unknown name. He is not merely a guide for people climbing the ladder, he was the secret of Bonaparte’s success. The revolution after revolution that this triggered, has been the past of your personal culture sphere. Your observations of the society around you, has history exploding from every photon that falls on your cornea. It is a pity that your eyes are closed and you are unwilling to go back. You have heard their frantic conversation, and have understood what has been happening. They were invading, a rabid hoard of confusing dressers, they were weaponed with weaknesses that mankind would dare not deny itself, like politics or economics or religion or territory. They were the barbarians invading society. History is true, and totally accurate when it claims all civilizations to have died from within. They crumble into the decay of their own success and decadence. They are not losers. They are not victors. They are waylaid in their goals, because they rape the women they should not. They court greed, and control and various political philosophies. They force these onto themselves when they do not willingly get it. It is a rape so horrendous that life does not progress. It comes to a standstill. The civilization dies from within, denied of leaving behind an admirable legacy. Rome and England never fell. They were grand old lions that never died and are often remembered. A new alpha male just scared them away, and killed all their children. Then continued to molest the females. No, you do not want to return to the city of zombies, to where everyone runs around on fire, and where corpses not yet birthed roam around well ahead of their times. You do not want to return to a cosmos that denies you of water. Your throat is thirsty, and may it perish that way. Is at least, appropriate to die in want of the water that made you.

4. Last if the person falls to the floor unconscious the CPR will be performed.

Someone plays music. Ah music is sweet. Music carries within its melodies the story of both the victors and the losers. The inside stories. The stories of pain and societal anguish. The stories of a dream of a perfect mankind. Stories of a coming time when everyone will walk to the light. Stories that are insane, and funny, and heart warming. Stories where musicians bitch about each other’s love lives. Stories where politics do not exist. For music is fundamental. It is necessary. It is that part of God within everybody expressing itself. And She calls out to you. It is a Gubraithian fire, an Eternal Flame. It is what that makes our dry throats sweet again. You start singing to the music too. You whisper it, and you cry. And your tears are cool too, reminds you that you are human. Life has slowed down, come to a standstill. You will wake up to a dawn no longer heralded by crows. That dawn will not be haunted by demons. That dawn will not have a history. That dawn will be fresh. That dawn is not far away. The Armageddon is not to be predicted or anticipated, it is already in progress.

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