Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
I’ve spent my whole life being invited everywhere while secretly plotting my escape route to the nearest quiet corner with a book. Then sarcoidosis showed up, and suddenly everyone has Opinions about what “support” should look like. Here’s the thing: I don’t need a crowd. I need calm, a steady hand to hold, and enough peace to breathe.
Growing up in a world without smartphones, social media, or the constant performance of feelings, I’m reminded how much life has changed—and how much we’ve lost. Somewhere between rotary phones and viral videos of strangers crying, something fundamental shifted in how we treat privacy, boundaries, and each other, especially for those of us navigating chronic illness like sarcoidosis. I found myself spiraling down that rabbit hole after reading about yet another plane-ride drama… but not in the way you might expect.
Growing up in the Caribbean taught me a lot about salty air, stubborn lungs, and the strange medical advice that somehow worked. Decades later, living with sarcoidosis and trying to survive winter colds, I stumbled across something unexpected that brought those memories rushing back… but whether it’s brilliant or ridiculous is still up for debate
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.
It wasn’t the cold air that woke me up—it was the memory of cold showers in the Caribbean, decades before I knew the word “sarcoidosis” would take over my vocabulary. One frosty morning in 2025 Upstate New York, I stepped into a hot shower and was transported back to simpler times when my lungs were clearer and the water was somehow always warmer, even when it wasn’t. And yeah, maybe I didn’t know how much those ocean swims mattered… until they weren’t an option anymore.