No White Coat, Just a Truth Bomb

I still can’t believe I did it.

Me. A guy with a tremor and a ton of self-doubt, sitting in front of the freakin’ United States Senate, trying not to freeze up or fall over. I wasn’t a doctor. I wasn’t a big-shot researcher. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I belonged in the room. But I was living it. And I knew that if I didn’t show up and speak, someone else might never get the chance.

I was stiff. I was sore. I was scared out of my mind. But I showed up anyway—and in that moment, I learned something: I didn’t need letters after my name to make my story matter. I had a voice. And it carried.

That day didn’t cure Parkinson’s. But it sure as hell reminded me who I was. That no matter how shaky life gets, I’m still steady where it counts. And if nobody saves you a seat at the table? Bring your own damn chair—and make 'em scoot over. 

Letter #6:

"Bringing Your Own Chair: The Power of Showing Up"

 Dear Reader,

There are days when you don’t feel like the hero of your own story.

Your body hurts. Your confidence wavers. You wonder if anyone’s really listening.

And then… there’s a day like this.

The day I sat before Senators and scientists and spoke my truth—not as a doctor or researcher, but as a human being living it. Living with it. Fighting it. I didn’t have a title after my name. Just a name. And I spoke it, clearly and proudly.

I didn’t do it because I felt brave. I did it because I was scared—and because silence wasn’t an option anymore.

And maybe that’s what advocacy really is: choosing to be visible even when it hurts… especially when it hurts.

If you’ve ever felt like your story didn’t matter because it didn’t sound like everyone else’s—please hear me:

You don’t need to be famous. Or flawless. Or fearless. You just need to show up.

Your story—your voice—has power.

It might not change a law overnight. But it might change a room. A heart. A perspective. It might even change you.

And if you ever find yourself sitting at a table wondering if you belong—look around and remind yourself:

You didn’t just earn that seat.

You brought your own damn chair.

On your side,
Richie