There are no Gods Sir. Just matter, light, time and gravity. Combined without purpose. Unconcerned by our wretched condition. On Nirn.
And a few races in Skyrim still throwing rocks at their own shadows and dying at the age of 26.
I don't see how rolling side to side on a marble table in the 'Temple of Kenneth' in Whiterun constitutes a successful medical treatment plan?
Plenty of germs though given the number of times Mrs Dragonborn coughs while I'm trying to slot Draugr Deathlord 26.
His call-sign was 'Clive'.