Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
I never thought a tiny fish would wreck me like this. But here I am, staring at an empty tank and feeling more emotional than I did when my last favorite spoon broke. Sarcoidosis doesn’t prepare you for this kind of heartbreak. Come find out why this fish mattered more than he ever should have.
Tired? Try living with sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a side of snark. In this funny, raw, and relatable chef’s diary of chronic fatigue, I explore what happens when your brain wants to do everything and your body files for early retirement. Fatigue, chronic illness, medication side effects, and stubborn hope collide in this reflective rant — served with humor and a bold refusal to give in.
Long before sarcoidosis turned my immune system into a half-functioning smoke detector, my wife and I were card-carrying germaphobes. Yes, both of us. We cringe at communal pens, we wash clothes after stepping outside to walk the dog, and we carry more Purell than snacks. Here’s why we’d rather bring our own pen than touch yours—and why every shirt that sees daylight gets washed. (sarcoidosis included)
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.
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means juggling oxygen checks, blood pressure readings, fluid retention tests, and everything else my body dreams up when it’s bored. Here’s how I track my symptoms, keep my numbers stable, and try to stay sane while traveling, working, and dealing with water retention that refuses to follow the rules.
Tate Basildon 