chronicillness – Page 4

Prednisone, Diabetes, and the CGM That Smiled While Lying to My Face

Prednisone and sarcoidosis have been in a long-term relationship with my body for years, and lately they’ve added a new plus-one: diabetes. So I tried a CGM for “easy” blood sugar tracking—because if I have to poke my fingers all day, I’m going to start charging admission. What I didn’t expect was a tech romance full of false reassurance, surprise pain, and numbers that looked comforting… until the lab results showed up with receipts.

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•Waiting Rooms, Rude Receptionists, and the Old Lady Who Had My Back

After twenty years of living with sarcoidosis, heart failure, and more hospital visits than I can count, I’ve learned one thing: healthcare workers can make or break your experience. Some are angels in scrubs; others act like you’ve ruined their day just by existing. Here’s a raw, unfiltered look at what happens when compassion gets lost in the waiting room.

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•Roller Skating With Sarcoidosis: Grieving My Old Body (Without Turning It Into a Life Sentence)

I saw a guy land a ridiculous roller-skating trick in a beach town and my brain immediately volunteered my body for a stunt it absolutely did not agree to. Living with sarcoidosis has taught me that nostalgia can be sweet, savage, and weirdly funny—and sometimes the bravest move is not proving anything at all.

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Keep Your Twigs and Your Verses: A Survival Guide to Unwanted Evangelism

Ever been spiritually ambushed by someone quoting scripture or pushing miracle twigs like they’re handing out eternal life samples at Costco? As a spiritual but not religious chef living with chronic illness, I’ve got some thoughts—and a few logs of my own. Here’s my no-pamphlet-needed take on boundaries, belief, and why passion doesn’t need to feel like a sales pitch.

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Learning to Sit With the Quiet: How Silence Became My Survival Skill While Living With Sarcoidosis

Living with sarcoidosis has a way of changing how you hear the world. When your body is already loud with symptoms, appointments, and internal negotiations, silence stops feeling empty and starts feeling necessary. This reflection explores how quiet moments—unexpected, unplanned, and deeply human—became one of my most reliable survival tools.