When Parkinson’s Gets Personal (Like…Really Personal)

For years, I’ve told people that Parkinson’s disease is a tough opponent.  I’ve said it in classes.  I’ve said it in fundraisers.  I’ve said it standing next to heavy bags, watching fighters lace up gloves with shaky hands and fierce determination.  I’ve said it with conviction:  “We can fight back.”

What I didn’t expect… was that one day, that fight would move into my own home.  Because now—it’s not just my community.  It’s my husband.

Let me just say this—Parkinson’s clearly didn’t get the memo.  Out of all the people in the world… it picked the husband of a woman who has built her life around fighting it.  Bold move, Parkinson’s.  Bold move.  Brian didn’t sign up for this, and honestly, neither did I.  But here we are—living in this strange space where I’m both coach and wife… expert and learner… strong and, some days, not-so-strong.  And if I’m being honest?  Sometimes I look at him and think,  “Well… this just got real.”

For years, I’ve been the one saying:  “Big movements!”  “Louder voice!”  “Posture up!”  “Don’t let Parkinson’s win today!”  And now Brian looks at me across the kitchen like,  “Are you coaching me… or are you asking me how I want my eggs?”  It’s a fine line, y’all. A very fine line.  Turns out, people don’t always want a Rock Steady Boxing class at 7:00 AM in their pajamas.

I’ve worked with hundreds of people living with Parkinson’s.  I’ve seen courage that will bring you to your knees.  I’ve seen people walk in unsure… and walk out stronger.  I’ve seen community do what medicine alone cannot.  But this?  This has taught me a whole new level of understanding.  Because when it’s someone you love—you feel every frustration differently. The slowness.  The stiffness.  The fatigue.  The moments when things just don’t work the way they used to.  And then there’s the invisible stuff…The emotional weight.  The quiet fears.  The “what does this mean for our future?” questions that show up uninvited.

Because if you know us—you know this:  We are going to laugh.  We have to laugh.  There are moments that are just… real life.  Like when I catch myself giving him cues like he’s in class:  “BIG STEPS, BRIAN!”  and he looks at me like, “Kim… I’m walking to the refrigerator.”  Or when I realize I’ve turned a casual walk into a full-blown gait training session.  Or when we both just stop… look at each other… and laugh because this is not the life we planned—but it’s the life we’re living.  And we’re going to live it fully.

Here’s what Parkinson’s didn’t plan for: It didn’t plan for Brian’s strength.  It didn’t plan for his grit. It didn’t plan for his sense of humor. And it definitely didn’t plan for this community. Because at Sweat Therapy Fitness, we don’t do this alone.  We have fighters.  We have care partners.  We have people who show up on their best days—and their hardest days.  We have people who understand… without needing an explanation.  And now, I’m not just walking beside them as a coach.  I’m walking beside them as a care partner too.

To every care partner out there—I see you in a way I didn’t fully see before.

I understood.  But now… I feel it.  The balance.  The patience.  The love.  The exhaustion.  The strength it takes to support someone while also holding onto yourself.  It’s a different kind of workout.  And no one gives you a warm-up or a cooldown.

If anything, this has deepened what I’ve always believed:  Movement is medicine.  Not just for the body—but for the spirit.  We move to stay strong.  We move to stay independent.  We move to fight back.  But we also move to connect.  To laugh.  To remind ourselves that we are still us.  Parkinson’s may change some things.  But it does not get to define everything.

So now, when I stand in front of a class and say,  “We fight back,”  I mean it a little differently.  Because now—it’s personal.  Now, it’s my home.  My family.  My heart.  And I will still say it—louder than ever:  We fight back with strength.  We fight back with movement.  We fight back with community.  And yes… we fight back with a little bit of humor,  because sometimes that’s what gets you through the day.

If you had told me years ago that this would be part of my story, I wouldn’t have believed you.  But life has a way of weaving things together in ways we don’t expect.  And if this is the road we’re on—then we’re going to walk it.

Together.  With big steps.  Good posture.  And maybe… just maybe…a few unsolicited coaching cues along the way.

(Sorry, Brian… I can’t help it.)

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