Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means sharing life with a quiet, loyal device that tracks every flutter, every scare, and every stubborn heartbeat. This is the story of the strange, funny, and unexpectedly comforting friendship that has kept me alive for nearly two decades.
Battling sarcoidosis while riding a packed NYC train full of coughing strangers is already a thriller, but add a prednisone dose strong enough to summon my inner demon and suddenly chronic illness becomes a full-blown adventure in mood swings, resilience, and survival with humor.
There’s something oddly powerful about hurling your emotional baggage into a river. Literally. This ancient-inspired ritual of stones, bells, and Sharpies might just be the weird yet wonderful soul detox we didn’t know we needed. It involves embracing your inner mystic, but don’t worry—no peyote buttons required. Curious yet? You should be.
A reader from Europe recently scolded me about the “slice-and-dice” American medical system—but as someone living with sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a knack for collecting diagnoses like airline miles, aggressive treatment is the reason I’m still breathing. Here’s what really happened, why “wait and see” nearly destroyed someone else’s life, and why I’ll take over-tested over overlooked any day.
Living with sarcoidosis already feels like starring in a medical drama I never auditioned for, so imagine my confusion when I got invited to join a “health care bloggers code of ethics” because someone mistook my personal chronic-illness ramblings for professional medical advice. This is what happens when a chef with a faulty immune system uses a heart-and-lung header graphic and the internet panics.
Tate Basildon 