Surgeon's Table

Naked and exposed, even in his hospital gown, Jake lay down on the surgeon's table. A tumor the size of a baseball clung to his abdomen. His life was at stake. Either the invasive tumor was removed or...

The surgeon strode to the table. Concern had etched ravines on his face. He spoke. "This tumor of yours is of a kind that we have yet encountered. We fear that if we were to use anesthesia, the tumor would burst and death would come knocking at your door. You will have to endure this surgery fully conscious, but let me promise you that the surgery will be 100% successful."

His last words, the surgery will be successful, bounced about the room with life-giving power. And yet, Jake had only heard him say, "You will have to endure this surgery fully conscious." He flew off that table with the speed of light and exited those hospital doors like no one's business. And he joined the masses, walking around in their hospital gowns, chanting and groaning, "It hurts too much. It hurts too much. It hurts too much."