I trained as a medical rehabilitation specialist and earned my bachelor’s degree in the field. For over five years, I practiced as a physical therapist and was very successful. I founded my own company, bringing physical therapy services to people’s doorsteps and expanding operations across several states. Everything looked perfect on the outside — the business was thriving, finances were stable, and I was making strategic connections.

But despite all that success, something inside me felt stuck. It was as though I had climbed to the top, only to realize I couldn’t breathe there. I would come home each day with a deep sense of dissatisfaction. I knew there was more, but I couldn’t quite locate where that “more” would come from.

The turning point came with a patient — a young woman in her early twenties who had sustained a gunshot injury while heading for her National Youth Service. The bullet left her paralyzed from the waist down. I treated her with every bit of skill, compassion, and hope I had. Many times, I went home in tears, reading and researching through the night for answers. I prayed silently as I worked on her, asking God if He could heal her and if not, why? But despite every effort, nothing seemed to change.