As I Lay Like Broccoli: A Personal Prayer Request

Regular readers know I rarely ask for prayers for myself, but I find that I need all I can get as I deal with a stubborn infection and a physician’s command to remain “flat on your back, leg elevated over your heart.”

My head says, “yay, bedrest, I can catch up on my reading.” Somehow, I can’t seem to concentrate on that very much, though, and I end up alternately binge-watching “Bob’s Burgers”, reading my Magnificat and dozing off in the middle of the rosaries I keep beginning, for the intentions of other folk in need.

There is a reason one should never start a rosary from a reclining position, and should always begin by asking your Guardian Angel to finish the prayer if you doze off. Yes, I do that. I’m a big dozer, and someone has to finish the job!

With multiple antibiotics, the the infection has begun to slowly abate, and my fever is low-grade and leaving, but this has been a remarkably scary episode. One that has helped to renew my appreciation for the brilliance of antibiotics — 100 years ago I likely would have watched this thing consume my leg and eventually kill me — and especially for the generosity of people and the power of their prayers. Even with several days of killer antibiotics and my obedience, this thing continued to spread until I asked for prayers from my friends. It only really started backing off when the prayers began, and so I’m hoping that by asking for yours, here, the healing may continue.

Really, I’ve got a lot going on — hey, it’s summer — and being unable to sit up for any period of time is really crimping Mama’s style. Unfortunately, though, keeping my leg down just long enough to type this, the infection site is already screaming at me, and it’s a surprisingly loud, nattering pain.

So, if you are inclined to prayer, I hope you will whisper a couple up for me; I thank you for your generosity. I played with the idea of including an image of the mess down there, but decided it would be a creepy and unfair assault on everyones senses. Suffice to say, its ugly, ugly.

Again, I thank you.