Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Living with chronic illness means collecting odd symptoms like souvenirs, but nothing prepared me for the nerve pain, phantom crawling, and burning sting shingles left behind. Here’s my long, winding, occasionally sarcastic journey with post-herpetic neuralgia, chronic pain, homeopathic experiments, and life with sarcoidosis—plus why an imaginary ant still runs laps on my face whenever it feels like it.
Living with sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a body that treats oxygen like a luxury upgrade means learning to laugh at what hurts, carry what scares you, and drag that oxygen tank around even when you’re tired of feeling “not like the man you used to be.” This is my messy, honest, slightly sarcastic reminder that using oxygen doesn’t mean giving up—it means choosing to stay alive.
Before my MRI next week, a simple online check-in turned into a bizarre quiz about my private life, sprinkled with the usual sarcoidosis-related precautions—but what came next left me blinking at the screen and wondering who exactly was getting scanned here. Let’s just say the questions took a turn I did not see coming.
Living with sarcoidosis is already its own exhausting full-time job, so the idea of a support group sounded…promising. Or at least not disastrous. But back in the early 2010s, when my lungs and heart were misbehaving like rebellious teenagers, the search for “people like me” turned into something far stranger than comforting. I won’t spoil the whole story here, but let’s just say it involved Christmas ornaments, long train rides, and me realizing the person I actually needed to find was somewhere else entirely. Maybe someone like you.
Tate Basildon 