Private Chef, Writer & Podcaster
Living with sarcoidosis can feel like starring in a long-running medical sitcom where the plot twists pop up at the most inconvenient times, including when you’re on vacation trying to rest. Without giving too much away, let’s just say my quiet beach getaway took an unexpected turn—and you’ll have to read the full post to see how a simple trip turned into something far stranger.
Some days, while easing into the morning and pretending the world makes sense, I stumble across online advice so astonishing it makes sarcoidosis feel like the most logical part of my life. And recently, “Dear Prudence” delivered guidance so unhinged—I had to sit there blinking like a confused owl, wondering who exactly we’ve trusted with our emotional emergencies.
If you’ve ever tried to recreate a TV chef’s “simple” dinner and ended up wondering if you accidentally auditioned for a survival show, you’re not alone. As someone juggling sarcoidosis, heart failure, and a full-time chef life, let’s just say I’ve learned exactly how misleading those glossy cooking programs can be. And no—I’m still not over the raw chicken incident.
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.
Living with sarcoidosis is like starring in a medical drama no one else can see—one where you look perfectly fine on the outside while your organs do the cha-cha backstage. Back in 2011, when all of this felt new and terrifying, I kept most of it to myself. Now, looking back from 2025, I can’t help but revisit how invisible everything looked… especially to everyone who insisted I “didn’t look sick.” There’s a lot more to the story, but you’ll have to come inside for the rest.
Tate Basildon 