Will Bruce is my nephew. He is the younger son of my sister, Kathy Zeigler Bruce, from Sylacauga.
We think of Parkinson’s disease as being for older people, almost in the category of Alzheimer’s. It is not necessarily so. Will Bruce was first diagnosed with Parkinson’s in his early 30s. By his late 30s, it had advanced. He is unable to work. He has major seizures that resemble a fish out of water. He is not left alone for long periods of the day.
Will had been an ambitious marketer, joyfully pushing his latest innovative product. Now, he can only do that online, and that is somewhat limited.
Will had never married or had children before the major onset of Parkinson’s, though he came close. His outlook for the future is a question mark.
Medical teams treating Will had recommended major brain surgery to insert wires that provide external impulses to control seizures. He, being a believer in natural healing, was reluctant. He finally went ahead with the surgery.
The surgery appeared to be successful, but so far, it has not relieved the Parkinson’s or its symptoms. Will still lives with major seizures and a seriously restricted lifestyle.
After all that, Will Bruce has not given up hope. Most of the time, he is a beacon of joy and encouragement to others. Some of the time, it can get him down.
Even Jesus wept.
On Thursday, Will went online and poured out his heart – his encouraging, joyful heart:
He wrote as follows:
Some days, this journey with Parkinson’s feels like a storm. My body trembles, my voice wavers, and frustration tries to claw its way into my words. It’s in those moments I feel the real battle—not just against tremors or stiffness, but against the urge to let negativity spill from my lips.
I’m reminded of Proverbs 18:21: "Life and death are in the power of the tongue." So I guard my words like a humble warrior. When my body screams "I can’t," I whisper back, "But God can." When fatigue whispers "give up," I declare, "I’m still standing." It’s not denial—it’s defiance. A choice to speak life over the ache, hope over the hardship.
And here’s the truth that anchors me: I am deeply, undeniably blessed. Not despite Parkinson’s, but even within it. Because this struggle? It’s a sacred classroom. It teaches me patience I never knew I had. It reveals strength I didn’t know existed. It slows me down to notice sunrises, laughter, and the grace in small victories.
Perspective is everything. So I remind myself: What if my "burden" is someone else’s desperate prayer? What if my shaky hands are proof I’m still here—fighting, loving, living? Many would trade their silent battles for mine in a heartbeat. That doesn’t erase the pain, but it fuels my gratitude.
Today, I choose to speak life. To thank God for breath, for family, for mornings where my feet still find the floor. I choose to see Parkinson’s not as a thief, but as a strange companion reminding me: Every moment is a gift. Every word is a seed. And this life—tremors and all—is wildly, fiercely worth living.
Keep speaking light, friend. Your voice matters more than you know.
"Let the words of my mouth... be acceptable in Your sight, O Lord." (Psalm 19:14)
- Will Bruce
Jim ‘Zig’ Zeigler’s beat is the colorful and positive about Alabama -- her people, places, events, groups and prominent deaths. He is a former Alabama Public Service Commissioner and State Auditor. You can reach him for comments at [email protected].
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