Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Back in 2010, a simple walk with my dog turned into a two-minute dance with death when my heart went into fibrillation. Thanks to my implanted defibrillator, I lived to tell the story—and to learn what it means to actually listen to my body when it decides to go rogue.
Growing up in a household full of brothers but shaped by strong women, I learned early that respect isn’t optional—especially in male-dominated kitchens. As a private chef living with sarcoidosis and heart failure, I’ve seen how words, attitudes, and compassion impact everyone. Here’s how childhood, chronic illness, and the culinary world taught me why speaking up matters.
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure, I’ve learned a thing or two about showing up even when life doesn’t make it easy. My biological father didn’t, but my stepdad—my real dad—did. This is a story about humor, strength, and learning to face illness with a smile instead of a complaint.
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.
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.
Tate Basildon 