Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Twenty years ago, I would’ve laughed at the idea that sarcoidosis could slowly rewrite my life until my heart needed supervision and my lungs required accessories. I didn’t know my future involved acronyms, oxygen tubing, and a pharmacy relationship built on mutual trust. If your body has ever quietly changed the rules while you were busy living… this one’s for you.
In 2007, I got a diagnosis that came with a timeline and an attitude: sarcoidosis had moved into my heart, and the future was being discussed like it was a fixed appointment. I did what any reasonable person would do—I decided to out-stubborn it. Years later, life reminded me that “I’m fine” is not a medical plan, especially when your lungs have their own opinions. If you’ve ever tried to live normally while your body quietly keeps score, this one’s for you.
I took my wedding ring off for the first time in forever, for a sweet anniversary plan involving diamonds and a jeweler. Naturally, my finger reacted like I’d committed a crime. If you live with sarcoidosis or any chronic illness, you know the drill: you try to do one normal, romantic thing and your body files an immediate complaint. What followed was a missing ring, a believable lie (for once), a perfectly shaped bruise, and an anniversary gift that didn’t replace anything. It added to it.
Living with heart failure and sarcoidosis means my heart sometimes behaves like an untrained sous-chef—dropping beats, burning the sauce, and sending everyone into panic mode. After a surprise fibrillation episode, some extra beats, and a cardiologist who ambushed me with a flu shot before I could protest, I’m trying to stay calm, breathe, and avoid yet another hospital stay.
Back in 2010, a simple walk with my dog turned into a two-minute dance with death when my heart went into fibrillation. Thanks to my implanted defibrillator, I lived to tell the story—and to learn what it means to actually listen to my body when it decides to go rogue.