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REBECCA The love of my life has suffered enough. Today I got her into the car and surprised her. I made an appointment for her with the top hair stylist in Orlando. I scheduled the WORKS for her. She was frightened at first but I got her to calm down. She deserves to look

MY REBECCA 💏 After four long, brutal years—years that have felt like a storm without a break in the clouds—I finally got her out of the house. My Rebecca. The love of my life. The woman whose laughter used to fill our home like sunlight through stained glass. Today, for the

ESSAY From the 3rd book I'm now working on. “A Bench, A Beard, and the Truth” By Michael Whelan I had just come from another appointment—a hallway of “hmm’s” and clipboards, more tests ordered than answers given. It was the kind of visit that leaves your soul limping. I didn’t

💙✍ This wonderful woman is my editor for my upcoming book, BELLA. Maryann breathed life into 'Bella' with the gentlest touch—like sunlight coaxing a flower to bloom. With grace, instinct, and deep affection for the story’s soul, she polished every word until it shimmered with

ESSAY ERNEST Another chapter from my Meeting Hemingway book that I'm writing. "Where the Hands Start Shaking” by Michael Whelan Lately, I keep running into Ernest after my hospital visits. Same bench. Same hour. Same light that can’t decide whether to bless or blind. At

hope everyone has a great Friday.

REBECCA I've been offline. The truth is, I’ve been holding my wife’s hand as the ground slowly disappears beneath her feet. Rebecca’s been struggling more lately. She had two good days then BAM! Her movements, once instinctive and light, now come only after coaxing and courage.

UPDATE Sorry I've been off for awhile. Rebecca's had a few challenges. Will be back soon. 💙

PARKINSON’S Some people have asked about the Neurological Movement Disorder Specialist we'll be seeing on June 9th. UGH. To let you know with no surprise, I've been chronically her problems for almost 6 years. I have over 675 pages of notes. I know more about cancer and

NEW BOOK I just began scratching out the first chapter of a new book I'm working on called: NO MORE SECRETS. CHAPTER 1 The Truth. Let me save you the trouble of digging. I’ll give you the shovel, the map, the GPS coordinates and the truth. There are no secrets here. So don't

Valentine’s Day—I Cry Every Year By Michael Whelan I should have been giving her flowers, chocolate, and a million kisses. But instead, I was giving her aspirin and NyQuil. It was Valentine’s Day, 2018. A day meant for tenderness and togetherness. But outside our window, the

One For The Road Before I Say Goodnight. My Good Friend Hemingway by Michael Whelan — written tonight in Key West! I decided to meet him on his turf, Key West. Not because I believed in ghosts. But because I believed in something else: the ache that sends a man searching.

“Morning with Ernest: On Death, Devotion, and the Unfinished” By Michael Whelan We had a long night. I was exhausted from my drive to Key West. The day hadn't quite begun. Morning slipped in like a secret, soft and hesitant. The sun, still unsure of itself, cast long amber

Me & Hemingway Chapter Five: The Ones Who Leave By Michael Whelan Later that day, Ernest took me down to the water. The sky had started to melt into its evening colors—pink bruising into purple, clouds trailing like brushstrokes from a hand too tired to finish the painting. The

Heartbreaking TV I'm watching a show on Netflix called The Resident. If you want your heart broken by the behind-the-scenes B.S. on how hospital financial devils screw with patients, give this well-made show a watch. Terrifically produced, directed, and casted, but it'll make

MY BOOKS (and my delusions of grandeur) So here’s the scoop: My first book, BELLA, will be wagging its tail onto Amazon this July. It’s tender, funny, and has more emotional support than a therapy session with Oprah and a Golden Retriever combined. My second book, The Final

JUST UGH The specialist that Rebecca is supposed to see on the 9th just called and canceled until the 17th. They don't care and she just gets worse. Just awful.😪

Chapter Two: I Blame Hemingway for the wreckage, the rhythm, and the reason I still pick up a pen. It started with a sentence. That’s how these things usually begin—quietly, innocently, like a raindrop that doesn’t warn you it’s about to become a flood. I don’t remember the exact

“Eight Months Is Too Damn Long!” by Michael Whelan I watch the days pile up like unopened letters on a desk. Eight months now. Eight months of waiting for a Neurological Specialist. Eight months of postponement, of Rebecca stiffening with every sunrise, of her voice fading

Love Doesn’t Wait—Why Does the System? by Michael Whelan I know what good care feels like. In 2022, when I was diagnosed with stage 4 head and neck cancer, I didn’t wait. I didn’t have to beg. I didn’t vanish into a bureaucratic void. Instead, the system surrounded me—fast,