“Enough whining. I'm still here, so f*** Parkinson's”
When Michael J. Fox appeared in the Season 3 premiere of Shrinking on Apple TV+ in late January 2026, I felt a quiet rush of emotion. There he was, tremors visible, voice a little different, playing Gerry, a fellow Parkinson's patient sharing a raw waiting-room moment with Harrison Ford's character Paul. They bond over the shared reality of the disease, trading honest words before landing on that unforgettable line: "Enough whining. I'm still here, so f*** Parkinson's."
It's raw, it's real, never pretending the hard parts don't exist, but refusing to let them have the last word.
"A Gift That Keeps on Taking"
Fox has called Parkinson's "a gift that keeps on taking." It's not fluffy positivity or denial, it's deeply honest. He acknowledges everything the disease has taken, his career on his terms, his physical ease, moments of independence, while recognising what it's unexpectedly given: purpose, community, and a platform to shift the entire conversation around Parkinson's.
Diagnosed at just 29 in 1991, when Parkinson's felt like "an old person's disease" with little spotlight, Fox kept it private for years. When he went public in 1998, he stepped into chat rooms anonymously to listen. What he heard surprised him: people celebrating his openness. "You're celebrating my having Parkinson's," he thought at first. But then he understood, they'd been stuck, invisible, waiting for the disease to take over without any say. His visibility permitted them to speak without shame. Now, people say, "I have what Michael J. Fox has," and that simple shift changes everything.
The Michael J. Fox Foundation has raised over $2 billion for research, and in recent years, breakthroughs like advanced biomarker tests (including tools to detect misfolded alpha-synuclein earlier) are changing how we diagnose and track the disease. These aren't just scientific wins, they're lifelines that reduce fear and isolation.
Acceptance, Not Resignation
One of my favourite things Fox says is: "Acceptance doesn't mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there's got to be a way through it."
He doesn't have a choice about having Parkinson's, but he has choices around it, choosing to build something meaningful, to show up publicly even when it's tough, to keep advocating. That's where the real power lives.
He's also said: "My happiness grows in direct proportion to my acceptance, and in inverse proportion to my expectations." And this one hits deep: "Gratitude makes optimism sustainable." It's not about ignoring the hard days; he's open about frustration, falls, broken bones, and the progression that means he won't be 80 the way he once imagined. But he keeps looking for what there's to be grateful for: family, moments of connection, the impact he's making.
"Don't spend a lot of time imagining the worst-case scenario," he advises. "It rarely goes down as you imagine it will, and if by some fluke it does, you will have lived it twice."
That wisdom feels so relevant in therapy. So many of us spend energy rehearsing disasters in our minds, doubling the suffering before anything even happens. Fox reminds us we can choose differently.
Family, Community, and Showing Up
Family is everything to him; his wife Tracy Pollan and their kids are constants in his story, the steady support that lets him face the rest. He's never portrayed himself as a lone hero; he's part of something bigger.
Watching him in Shrinking, a show all about therapy, grief, messy healing, and honest conversations, feels perfectly aligned. His character isn't "overcoming" Parkinson's in some tidy way. He's frustrated, funny, human, still figuring it out, and showing up anyway. That scene with Ford isn't inspirational because it's triumphant, it's powerful because it's real.
What This Means for Mental Health
Parkinson's isn't just physical. The mental and emotional load, depression, anxiety, the sense of loss, and the isolation can be enormous. Fox's story shows how acceptance, gratitude, purpose, and connection become anchors.
His return to the screen, even briefly, isn't about denying the disease; it's about refusing to let it be the whole story. As he puts it: "The disease is this thing that's attached to my life, it isn't the driver."
Life is great, he says, "sometimes, though, you just have to put up with a little more crap."
Michael J. Fox has spent over three decades living with Parkinson's, changing research, giving voice to a community, and showing what it looks like to face the unimaginable with grace, humour, and real determination.