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.
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.
Living with chronic illness takes more than blind faith—it takes grit, humor, and a little rebellion. As a chef with sarcoidosis and heart failure, I’ve seen how spirituality can both heal and harm when people rely too heavily on divine intervention instead of their own strength. Here’s my honest take on faith, health, and the real work of living through it.
In 2007, a routine heart procedure turned into a life-changing diagnosis: heart failure. Eighteen years later, I’m still here—living with sarcoidosis, a defibrillator in my chest, and the constant awareness that my next heartbeat might depend on a tiny piece of metal and code. This is what surviving with an AICD really feels like—equal parts miracle, nuisance, and reminder to keep going.
There was a version of me in 2002—forty years old, a working chef, exhausted in ways that made no logical sense, and listening to doctors insist that every alarming symptom was “stress.” Now that sarcoidosis is a familiar part of my vocabulary, looking back on that time feels like watching a movie where you want to yell at the character to turn around. Revisiting that moment made me rethink the “what if” game entirely and wonder how differently life looks when you finally know what your body was trying to tell you.
Tate Basildon 