Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
In a world overflowing with self-help books and symptom-specific blogs, what are we really searching for? As someone living with sarcoidosis, chronic illness, and a whole choir of organs trying to retire early, I’ve noticed that beyond the medical terms and hashtags, the word we’re truly chasing is simple: peace. My most-read post ever proved it.
Living with sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a body that treats oxygen like a luxury upgrade means learning to laugh at what hurts, carry what scares you, and drag that oxygen tank around even when you’re tired of feeling “not like the man you used to be.” This is my messy, honest, slightly sarcastic reminder that using oxygen doesn’t mean giving up—it means choosing to stay alive.
I showed up for a stress test expecting the usual treadmill humiliation—just me, some wires, and the subtle reminder that sarcoidosis doesn’t care about my plans. Instead, the numbers went rogue, the tech started bargaining with the screen, and I walked out with the kind of plot twist that makes you stare at your own body like, “Excuse me, who authorized this?”
Living with sarcoidosis and heart failure means juggling oxygen checks, blood pressure readings, fluid retention tests, and everything else my body dreams up when it’s bored. Here’s how I track my symptoms, keep my numbers stable, and try to stay sane while traveling, working, and dealing with water retention that refuses to follow the rules.
Living with heart failure and sarcoidosis means my heart occasionally behaves like a dramatic actor auditioning for a medical soap opera. Between chest pains, racing pulses, doubled diuretics, and the dreaded exercise stress test, I’m learning to survive it all with humor, grit, and just enough sarcasm to stay upright.
Tate Basildon 