Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Living with heart failure and sarcoidosis means juggling defibrillators, dark humor, and the calm certainty that hospital staff really should know your final wishes before things get dramatic. This honest, witty look at advanced directives, chronic illness planning, and medical chaos reminds readers why self-advocacy matters—and why humor still wins.
Some summers slap you with sunshine, and others hit you with the reality of chronic illness, sarcoidosis, and that rebellious heart that never reads the room. This is the story of one overly ambitious chef who pushed too hard, paid for it immediately, and finally had to accept the uncomfortable truth: the “old me” isn’t coming back, but the new me deserves just as much care—ideally before collapsing into a lounge chair like a wilted basil leaf.
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means facing down terrifying statistics, clueless predictions, and medical journals that act like they’re auditioning to narrate a true-crime documentary about my lungs. But in the middle of all that doom, I’ve learned to rewrite the script, trust my stubborn body, and keep choosing a life filled with humor, resilience, love, and the occasional hummingbird cameo.
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means salt isn’t just a seasoning—it’s sabotage. After three reckless days of comfort food, I learned (again) that a few bites of joy can turn into days of swelling, exhaustion, and regret. Chronic illness has a way of reminding you that indulgence always comes with interest.
After years of battling sarcoidosis and heart failure, I’ve realized that “sick” is just a word—and it doesn’t define me. Between migraines, acupuncture needles, and medical humor that borders on dark roast, I’m still standing, breathing, and occasionally brisk-walking on flat ground.
Tate Basildon 