Pivot
Pivot:
Basketball. To keep one foot in place while holding the ball and moving the other foot one step in any direction.
To modify (a policy, opinion, product, etc.) while retaining some continuity with its previous version.
The beginning of 2018 was promising. Sugarfoots (www.sugarfoots.com), my multi-cultural rag doll company's doll sales were up, my after-school theatre program flourished, and the interest in enrollment peaked with Sugarfoots Performing Arts Summer Camp.
I recently returned to the US from a trip to Sierra Leone after marrying my husband, Gabriel. I was excited. I had a mile-long checklist with immigration, an after-school curriculum, and heavy marketing activities to execute for the summer camp.
But the unthinkable began to unfold. First, a persistent cough appeared. Second, a misdiagnosis of bronchitis from a doctor landed me in a one-week intensive care stay with an autoimmune disease. These mishaps morphed into a three-week hospital stay, getting me acquainted with a new friend – the oxygen machine.
After weeks and months with a steady stream of doctors and specialists, I boldly asked the question. What is God doing? Did he take a nap? Was he socializing too long with the new arrivals crossing the pearly gates? I am not a smoker; I swim laps three times a week. So what do you mean I have inflamed lungs and joints? There has to be some misunderstanding, some clerical error. How does God expect me to continue? I moved at warped speed the day before, and now, I lead the tortoise brigade.
And then I quickly cuffed my hand over my mouth, frightened because I questioned God. A serious taboo in my Baptist Christian upbringing, fearing on top of my condition, I am now on my way straight to hell for blasphemy.
But something happened after one of those days of ugly throw-yourself-on-the-bed-crying. I became silent. I began to listen to that voice inside me. I began to hear God, and I began to pivot.
I learned how to delegate. I learned to listen to my body and adhere to its demands to rest when required. I learned to accept my current situation, accept my nemesis, 'Denial,' and question my specialist at John Hopkins when deemed necessary. I learned to work with my brilliant physical therapist, Dr. Shanell James of www.limbsnhings.com, and not against her. I recognized my limitations, applauded my strengths, and progressed through all adjustments with my healing journey.
Finally, I remembered the joy of writing. But my most valuable lesson.
I learned I am a survivor and not a victim.
I'll see you around the pages, family.
Warmest always,
Barbara Nyaliemaa Mosima
Note: Ms. Mosima's debut novel, Why Have Dog and Bark, is available now on Amazon.