Two blood clots formed on the right side of my brain and I experienced partial paralysis on the left side of my body. I drug my foot a little, but I was mobile. My left arm felt like it weighed 100 pounds. I couldn’t lift it, nor could I grip with my left hand. I had a slight headache but, by the time we arrived in the ER, it was the worst headache I could remember.

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Sitting in the triage section of the ER, I realized, “I’m actually having a stroke.” In my room, the staff rolled in a video monitor for a Teledoc conference. The neurologist on the screen could see my vitals and ordered an MRI.

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It was getting late in the evening, approaching 11:00, when they rolled me into the MRI room. While I felt awful, I dreaded most the repercussions of a stroke. “Please, God, don’t let me not be able to walk or speak or see.” I had easily prayed that a hundred times that night. I wasn’t afraid I was going to die. I had told Margaret, if I did, I knew on Whom I had believed.

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The technician was a competent guy. Not too talkative. Methodical. He had a job to do, but I’d never had an MRI. I’d never had a stroke either. I was more than a little nervous. Suck it up, I thought. Thousands of people have had MRIs. I prayed again, “Don’t let me not be able to . . .”

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Once on the bed which would carry me into the machine, I knew I was getting nauseous.

“You have to hold still. You can’t move,” the tech said.

But I’m gonna puke. No matter, the scan began and I focused on not moving.

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I hated what I was enduring. If I were alone, I might have cried a little. To take my mind off the scan, I began to pray. “God, please don’t let me not be able to walk or speak or . . .”

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I couldn’t finish the prayer; I was interrupted. “Why don’t you pray for what I want?”

I knew that thought hadn’t come from my heart. What’s going on?

“I will be with you if you can’t walk or speak or see.” And there it was.

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I didn’t hear the audible voice of God, but I knew I’d heard from Him. He spoke to me through my selfish prayer. He reminded me he was with me and would be if the stroke symptoms got worse. What was I worried about?

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And then I threw up.

I recovered quickly. Six months later, my neurologist discharged me from his care.

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I am different today for having gone through that experience. When I pray now, I tell God my concerns. Then I thank him for his presence and ask for him to do his will.

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