Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Recently, I sat through a medical survey that was so obsessed with despair you’d think optimism was contraband. As someone juggling heart failure and sarcoidosis with the grace of a caffeinated cat, I realized just how differently I approached my own medical circus. The questions were supposed to measure my suffering, but instead they reminded me of something far more unexpected… and a little hilarious in hindsight.
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.
There’s something wild about living with chronic illness—like sarcoidosis and heart failure—that somehow turns you into a chemist, a juggler, and occasionally, a complete idiot. One night, after years of carefully choreographing my meds to keep my heart beating and my lungs cooperating, I accidentally double-dosed myself into a mild panic and a sleepless night watching for the Grim Reaper. Spoiler: I lived. But I learned a thing or two about pill organizers, fatigue, and the fine line between medication routine and chaos.
Life throws enough chaos at those of us living with sarcoidosis, but sometimes the world hands you a moment that hits harder than any flare. I watched one clip on the news that rearranged my perspective in a way I didn’t see coming, and it made me question what we choose to carry—and what we should probably just let go. This one stayed with me, and it might stay with you too.
Ever had a dream that hung around like glitter you can’t sweep away? Mine involved massage therapy, a mini-stroke, an upgraded heart, and a stubborn case of sarcoidosis trying to steal the spotlight. Spoiler: despite the plot twists, the story isn’t over…
Tate Basildon 