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“A good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.”

Today’s story is about doctors. About precision, reputation, and skill. But even more, it is about the quiet moments when the truth about ourselves dawns and unexpectedly stares us in the face. When we come face to face with reality, the results can be staggering.

Dr. Adrian Keller discovers this for himself. A painful surgery, yet one that leaves him a better man.

I hope you enjoy Sharper Than the Scalpel, and that it may gently cut into your own heart as well.

Sharper Than the Scalpel 

By J.K. Stenger

When Adrian Keller was your surgeon, you were safe.

That was the word.

Nurses stopped talking when he entered the OR, the team stepped back when he picked up the scalpel and everyone waited for his commands. 

People came to Redemption Medical Center from far and wide, trusting Adrian Keller with their lives, knowing that his scalpel would not fail and they would get an extension to their lives.

Adrian basked in the glory. The praise of the people warmed his heart. 

When, after yet another successful operation, women with worry lines etched on their pale faces and tears in their eyes, expressed their gratitude for saving their husbands’ lives, his heart swelled and then he would manage to put on a humble face while saying, it was nothing. A benevolent smile appeared and he would say with a nod, “It was the least I could have done, dear.” 

 But when the people walked off rejoicing, he knew it had not been nothing. It had been his unmatched skill. 

It had all been his own doing that he had risen to the level of such perfection. Few of his colleagues had studied the way he had. Few put in as many hours and the understanding of the intricacies of the human body came natural to him. 

Once, a nurse had suggested arrogance. It had happened after a very harrowing bypass. For a moment the heart of the man on the table had flat-lined, but Adrian had known what to do and again the operation had been a great success. 

When the man thanked him later, Adrian gave him another one of his smiles, and said, “Sir… Go home, and sin no more.” 

His wife had said that once and he found it sort of profound and fitting for the situation. Later on, the nurse in question had mentioned she found his words rather strange, but he had laughed it off. Who did she think she was, to question him like that? He gave her a polished smile and decided, if she wouldn’t perk up, he would have her replaced. 

But at home, life was different.

At home he wasn’t the hero, and he couldn’t understand why. 

The silence at the dinner table was as sharp as his scalpel. His wife looked at him as if he were a total stranger. Of course, the feeling was mutual. They were both glad when dinner was over. She usually rose without a word, heaped the leftovers in a pan and disappeared into the kitchen. George, his only son whom he had hoped would follow in his footsteps, wouldn’t even come home anymore. The television had become the only source of communication.

It unnerved him, but since there did not seem to be any quick solutions he just tossed the questions aside and prepared for more operations the next day.

And tomorrow the hospital had scheduled a big transplant. 

It would take all his skills, so he decided to spend the night at the hospital. He often did that before a big operation. He had a bed in his office he could roll out. It was better that way. He needed to keep his mind clear.

But that night something drove him to walk around the empty hospital corridors and he ended up at the chapel. 

Curiosity rose. 

He’d never been inside. Patients often claimed they had found peace and rest for their troubled nerves in the quiet of the chapel. Well, his nerves weren’t ruffled and he had lots of peace, still, the chapel seemed to call out to him.

Why not take a quick look.

He pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into the small room. It smelled like candle wax. Of course it did, as there were several large candles burning at the sides casting a warm, but mysterious glow over the place.

Did they keep these things burning all night? What a waste.

Several rows of uncomfortable looking seats, arranged in a half circle before a pulpit, beckoned him to sit down. In the wall behind the pulpit was a stained-glass window and a large crucifix hung next to it.

It didn’t mean much to him. Adrian was not a religious man.

Not anymore. He had been once. As a child, but his prayers had not been answered so he had decided that faith in God was for the weak. He preferred skill over superstition.

Still, the atmosphere was inviting. It wouldn’t hurt to sit down for a moment and let the silence fill his heart.

He chose a seat near the back and as he sat down his eyes fell on a small book just lying there. A Bible? 

He picked it up. The first time he ever held that book.

So… this was that famous book that so many people made such a fuss about. He picked it up and smelled it. Musty. Why did people believe such stuff?

Still, he cracked it open and read in the shimmering light. 

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”

As he read the words, his fingers trembled. 

The words hit him as if someone sliced his own marrow. It hurt… It felt real. Too real.

A flood of emotions sought entrance. He pushed it away and slammed the book closed. Sitting here was a waste of time. He should not have come here. He needed to go to sleep and he stomped off, back to his office where he rolled out his bed.

But that strange passage about that sword, that scalpel, kept pestering him. He could not forget it. For the longest time he kept tossing and turning, but at last he finally fell asleep. 

And he had a dream.

A nightmare, really.

In the dream he was in the OR, right on the operation table. Strange beings of light stood around him, all holding razor sharp scalpels and they were discussing which parts to cut out first.

He screamed. “No… I am not sick. I don’t belong here.”

One of the beings of light turned his attention to him and shook his head. A sad expression appeared on the being’s face and he said, “But you are. You are very sick, but don’t worry… we are skilled and we know where to cut.”

And then they began the operation.

All without anaesthesia.

“First his pride has to go,” one of the beings of light said. The others hummed their approval and approached with their scalpels. 

“I’ll cut out the pride,” the one in charge said. He turned to the being next to him and nodded. “You deal with his love of self.” 

Adrian saw the scalpel being lowered. He braced himself as he saw the silver blade glinting in the light of the operation lamp. 

“Get right to it,” the other said as he too lifted his scalpel.

The first one did not cut yet, but turned to the two others on the other side of the operation table. “And you two… Take care of the rest. I know it’s a lot, but let’s get this right.”

Everything in Adrian’s body screamed. He tightened his fist and with a last burst of strength he yelled, “No… Don’t cut!” He swung his arms around to prevent the beings from coming closer with their scalpels. “I-I am afraid.”

“No need for fear,” the one in charge said with a benevolent smile. “We are very skilled.”

It was the last Adrian remembered, as he woke up screaming. 

He sat up with his fingers trembling.

A dream. It had only been a dream.

So real, though.

So intense.

He remembered every detail, almost as if he could feel the scalpels of the beings of light still present. He thought back on the verse of scripture he had read in the chapel.

Sharper than any two-edged scalpel.

Penetrating even to the dividing of soul and spirit, joints and marrow;

The word that judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

What about his thoughts?

His attitudes?

Through the window of his office, he could see dust particles floating by. A new day was dawning. Only a bleak streak, but it held the promise of a new day full of light. 

His hand went through his hair in an attempt to clear up his thoughts. It was strange, but his head felt much clearer than it had in a long time. The oppressive darkness that had plagued him for so long seemed less prominent. In his mind, light was filtering through as well.

He looked at his watch.

Five o’clock. Four more hours before the operation.

If he even dared to perform it.

His wife would still be asleep, but he could not wait any longer. He needed to talk to someone. He pulled out his phone and dialed his wife’s number.

She answered almost immediately.

Surprising, as she was a deep sleeper.

“Hello, Adrian,” she said. “What is it?”

He did not know what to say. Words wouldn’t come. Instead, tears rolled out. At last, he managed in between sobs to say, “I am so sorry…” More tears made it almost impossible to speak. But finally he blurted out, “I need help.”

There was silence on the phone for the longest time.

“A-are you still there?” Adrian asked at last.

“Yes, Adrian,” came her voice, muffled with tears. “I am here…” She paused. “Are you serious?”

Now it was time for Adrian to be still. He did not know what to say. He wanted so badly to be serious. But he was weak. At last, he croaked, “I want to, dear. I want it so bad.”

“Oh, Adrian,” she said. “I’ve been praying for you for so long. I’ve been waiting to hear those words. We have a long way to go but like this, I believe there’s hope.”

Four hours later, Adrian arrived in the OR.

His hands trembled. He spoke gently to the patient and, with tears in his eyes, he asked for the help of his team.

They looked at each other, bewildered. 

Adrian spoke as if they were equals.

The operation was a great success, but Adrian didn’t pocket the glory. He silently left through the back door.  

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