There is no shame to ask for prayer. I’m trying to work through my natural tendency to NOT ask.

Here’s the thing: I do not, not, not want to come across as needy, or craving attention or pity, or anything like that. 

You know the type. The person who is clingy, ill-adjusted, and needs to be the star in their autobiography. The person who would say, without irony, “It’s all about me.”

The flip side of this is scripture informs me that it’s absolutely appropriate to ask for prayer. That’s not being selfish. It’s being real. 

The Apostle Paul often asked his fellow believers to pray for him as he preached Christ. In his letter to the Christians at Corinth, Paul asked them to pray for him as he was constantly under duress for preaching Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:11).

Paul asked his fellow believers in Colossae to pray for him as he preached Christ: “At the same time, pray also for us, that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ, on account of which I am in prison — that I may make it clear, which is how I ought to speak” (Colossians 4: 3-4, ESV).

We must not be ashamed of asking others to pray for us. Paul needed the prayers of his Christian family, we too need the prayers of our brothers and sisters. And those two passages I cited are just for starters – there are plenty more.

The reality is that I AM needy, and you are too. It’s out of that needful place that you and I can ask for prayer. 

I’m a case study in this. I’ve needed to ask for prayer in an acute, even desperate way the last couple of weeks. You’ll need to indulge me. 

Here’s background, and if you’ve heard all this before, feel free to skim it (yawn).

In June of 2018 I suffered a nasty concussion. At first it wasn’t too big of a deal – my eye swelled shut, I had stitches, but it all seemed pretty routine. CT scans and x-rays showed no head or brain damage, but I did have three broken ribs. About a week after the injury, I started getting headaches on the opposite side of my head from the impact site. Overnight I developed a sensitivity to light and sound. There were some cognitive issues – it’s like my brain was shrouded in fog. 

Worst of all was the deepest, darkest emotional funk you can imagine. Anxiety, depression, and what I characterized as “a sense of impending doom” became realities. It was/is perfectly awful. 

After another round of scans and x-rays, my internist – whom I love much – told me I had post-concussion syndrome. No, I’d never heard of it either. All my symptoms were textbook. The cure? Time. I was to be patient. It would “take time.” (I’ve heard that “take time” phrase so many times that I’m afraid the next time I hear it I’m gonna punch someone in the throat.) He also put me on a killer combo of depression/anxiety meds. 

Apparently PCS victims are prone to suicidal thoughts. Praise God that hasn’t been an issue. Since then, I’ve been to a chiropractor, I’ve tried acupuncture (which was actually pretty fun, but it didn’t really help), and talked to a counselor. All well and good. 

I’ve also been to a neurologist, and that’s been very encouraging. I’d had a migraine headache 24/7 – that was taking its toll – but again, she’s tinkered and experimented with several drugs and the headaches are more manageable.

About two weeks ago, the Apocalypse. 

 

 

The mother of all migraines, which would respond briefly to meds then come roaring back. It was taking a real toll not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

In full senior adult mode – we love to share our ailments, right? the wonderful Dr. Bridget Jones, neurologist par excellence, restricted me to the house for five days with orders to be still and quiet, which suited me just fine. Lots of couch time, limited screen time. 

The thing about brain injuries, at least in my case, is that they become part of a new normal. I’m not completely over it, it’s mostly manageable, but some days – whew. I feel as stupid as a sack of rocks, I can’t articulate what I want to say, and I generally just need to avoid people. It’s like living under a cloud. And people will say, “You look fine,” which sounds pretty good.

The thing is, it’s not like faking being sick to get out of school or work. I’ve been having to fake being well.

So, when the doc was able to work me in, which was a miracle in itself because she stays booked up months in advance, she took lots of time with me to make sure she knew what was going on. I got a toradol shot, which is a HUGELY amped-up NSAID, and I got some relief in less than a half hour.

She sent me home with this stuff called Reyvow. It’s not a narcotic – oddly enough, migraines don’t respond well to opioids – but I SWEAR, I’ve never taken anything like THIS. Yesterday morning, within about 15 minutes of taking it, I was in a zone I can’t even describe. The headache vanished. Poof. 

But the side effects … I MEAN. I was on the couch, and it was like someone had thrown a weighted blanket over me. I couldn’t move (well, I actually could, but didn’t want to!), and experienced something like euphoria. This lasted a while, and then, well, the rest of the day, I basically didn’t get off the couch. I just sort of hovered in a groggy haze. I’d googled the med and read reviews from others who’d taken it. Some folks hallucinated. Others went numb in their hands and feet. Scary, but it did what it was supposed to do. It’s a tradeoff.

I was warned several times to NOT attempt to drive. I get that. Instead of driving 2 miles to Walmart, I might end up in Memphis. And to not try to make any important decisions, which made sense … in my state, it would have been easy to put our house up for sale or something, and not know I did it. The nurse said, “Not only could you make bad decisions, you won’t KNOW you’re even making decisions.”

I went back to work a couple of days ago. I’m making it.

I needed to ask for prayer, and I did. God has honored those prayers from so many folks who have prayed.

Why am I sharing all this? It’s because I think you can relate.

Here me again – if you are in need of prayer, ask for prayer. Folks love to pray if they know of a need. It gives them an opportunity to put some feet to what they say they believe. 

One more thought. 

In a counseling session not long after I scrambled my head, I discovered that part of what I was experiencing was actual grief – grief for the old Tony and adapting to the new Tony. Once I realized what was going on – missing the old me – it brought things into perspective and sure helped a lot. I share this to say – be kind to others. Be kind to people who don’t see things as you do, or hold the same values as you. You simply don’t know what they’re facing or have faced. As I always say, “You don’t know their stories.” Don’t be reactionary and lump them in a category of “them” or “those ____”.

Everyone you have any contact with under any circumstances was made in the image of God, and if that isn’t reason enough for respect, I don’t know what is. Please be kind. Life is challenging enough as it is without you devaluing others. 

I just made myself cry. Talk later!