Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
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.
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.
Ever had someone snatch your phone while you were just trying to show them a picture? Twice in one day, it hit me how much of my entire life—accounts, passwords, memories, even my brain power—now lives inside this little iPhone. As a chef with sarcoidosis and heart failure who once memorized entire bank account numbers and directions without GPS, I’m wrestling with the good, bad, and ridiculous sides of tech dependence.
Labor Day may feel bittersweet for most, but for me—a chef living with sarcoidosis and heart failure—it’s a relief. Summer’s heat, crowds, and entitlement give way to autumn’s crisp air, golden leaves, and the quiet comfort my body and spirit crave. Here’s why fall feels like freedom, and why I’ll always celebrate the end of summer.
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.
Tate Basildon 