patwhelan7238-blog

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I am proud to announce I am now a staff writer!

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A poem: "You and Me" spoken word

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What is, and what should be... update 4/18/18

https://www.gofundme.com/Helpforneedy please support our cause.

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The ramblings and wise words of a man reminded of his mortality

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Close call! Too close!!!

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Pat&Sam issues youtube gofundme

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This is the link to my author/seller page where you can buy my books.

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Ugh, need relief!!!

Can somebody please dial down the pollen and mold!  These last two years, Samantha and I have had horrible seasonal allergies; in fact just worsening allergies period.  I always wondered if my allergies were going to change again, like they did as a young adult.  No money to use the a/c everyday, and we do have to go outside anyway, so it’s Benadryl and Ibuprofen all the time. ~sighs~

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A poem

‘The stain of pain”

 I see before me

A thing that doth bore me

A putrid excuse

For inhumane abuse

An evil little measure

Of a disgusting pleasure

Taken by the few

Those that renew

Old hatred and injury

Hampering our ability

To see the light

To know when to fight

For ourselves and our race

All human, one place

Our earth

In need of rebirth

Casting off the stain

Reaching out from the pain

Seeking healing

To experience feeling

A long-lost ghost

The one that I miss the most

People everywhere closing off

Hearing cries, turning away to scoff

At the melding masses

The poor and lower classes

For they do not wish to see

The suffering of you or me

Turning a blind eye

Not even knowing why

The wretched little crawling

The bullies brawling

Stop to see the wreck

So, I’m late; what the heck

Enjoying with morbid curiosity

The suffering of humanity

Watching, but never seeing

Upon who’s boots they are truly peeing

Just a little mess

No one will address

And the stain goes on

The pain making us pawns

The stain on humanity

Spreading pain with neutrality

Never owning up

Always filling the cup

It runs right through

Spilling its brew

If we cannot undo

You and I are through

With nothing more to gain

Just the pain, our agonizing stain…

© Patrick J whelan 3/27/2018

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An update on our situation.  Please help if you are able.  Ty, Namaste

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We could use a little help, please.

Happy Friday everyone.  Samantha and I checked into a local charity for some assistance the other day; we got useful information and some much needed clothes.  They offered food assistance, I did not accept, we already have food stamps, that would be taking from those who need it worse than we do.

Learned about some possible medical assistance, have to track it down though.

I realized this morning, that I have never mentioned my missing teeth; here is the story on that.  On my mother's side of the family pretty much loses teeth by age 50.  Mine started going at age 23 or 24.  Our dentist kept conning me into root canals and crowns; I tried to tell him it was pointless, then I saw his new BMW and knew the point!

I tried to get my teeth fixed while I was incarcerated, but I signed up for self-improvement and rehab resources, so when I came up on the dental list, I was transferred to the next step out of the prison door.  After that, I ended up back on disability, taht leaves no money for much taht isn't absolutely immediate necessity.  I can eat, therefore, not the biggest issues at hand.

We hope everyone had a safe and happy St. Patrick's day, and I hope you have a safe, happy, fun weekend! :-)

https://www.gofundme.com/Helpforneedy

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A plea for assistance...

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Insanity

Strife, life, and the fife

By: Patrick J Whelan

3/19/2018

                 I have lived 47 years on this rock, watched it change from helping to hurting more times than I can count.  Just so many hurdles, nobody trying to surmount.

                 I have always had developmental issues, but they didn’t know what that was in the 1970s.  I had migraines most of my young life, blackouts from heat, sunstroke after sunstroke.  At 17, I bought a piece of junk motorcycle and one day had a blackout at 55 miles per hour on a sharp turn I came to, hunched over, and seeing the pavement become grass beneath us.  I blacked out again but managed to lay the bike down first.  I awoke in the ambulance to hear my friend asking to play with the siren, (big relief, he wasn’t hurt), then I asked what happened and the paramedic said: you tell me.  Back into black I fell.  I again awoke, this time in a hospital bed. I look down and see myself covered head to toe in sugar sand, but still fully clothed.  Then I see the cop sitting next to me.  Needless to say, I didn’t get in trouble, but the accident uncovered some pretty big trouble.  They found a huge birth defect in my brain.  I saw a neurologist, and of all things, he said that I could no longer push myself physically, that I should steer clear of “all” stimulants, cigarettes, avoid stress, and a laundry list of other do nots.  I did not listen…

                 There has always been a manner of thinking within me that justifies or excuses away me challenging common sense.  I had a stroke in May of 2000 from pushing myself too hard physically.  Shortly after that, I sought out help with my migraines.  I found a hospital and team of doctors at “Shand’s” hospital willing to take me on; they cured my migraines by wrapping a wire around my birth defect to limit the pressure it puts on my brain.  It did however cause me other issues in the manner in which it changed the blood flow in my brain.  In another year, I recovered from the stroke the most the doctors said I would be able to, they weren’t lying

                 Always having had cognitive issues, I was no stranger to a dysfunctional brain.  I learned to cope, to be able to get things done, but again, I was not supposed to be doing them!

                 What I have not mentioned, was having spinal issues as a kid; I did not know it, but that motorcycle accident, and the constant lifting of things I shouldn’t caused me permanent fractures in my vertebrae and apparently spinal degeneration started very early for me.  I was treated for severe scoliosis as a teen.

                 I have tried to return to work since the stroke, made a go of it twice, only to fall completely apart from the stress and physical labor.  Not being able to work, my mental health issues became more focused and I slowly became a neurotic shut in.  My seemingly harmless marijuana habits weren’t enough anymore, and I turned to pain management, not for the purpose of curing pain, to get high!  I ended up deep in the grips of opiate addiction, and finally it happened, the big break in character.  I robbed my pharmacy for pills.  I was in psychotic episode, but I was aware of what I was doing.  Though I ended up in psychotic episode for the next 14 months, I was focused on not making matters worse.  I ended up making a deal for a guilty plea to keep me off of the streets for a little while; 5 years to be exact.  4 years, 2 months, and 21 days later, I was released having earned all of my gain time and gotten some rehab to boot!  (Because I signed up for it).

                 Now, having forced myself through 8 months of work release was now getting very tiring, so I went back on my disability and tried college.  Well, I thought I was doing good, and I made the mistake of telling Social Security I was doing well, that got my disability terminated; and it has felt hopeless ever since!

                 I met the woman of my dreams, my one true soulmate, we married, and struggled together.  At the time, we were taking care of my elderly mother and living in her house.  Well, mom needed more care than I could give her, and truthfully, my nerves couldn’t handle the extra stress, so after 2 years of being accused of being crazy, lazy and “on hard drugs”, my family finally took her off of our hands.  The house was sold, and we were given enough money to rent a place for a year.  There was nothing left to live on after the move, and so now, you are up to speed.

                 My family has stopped helping, most are childishly getting back at me by making more accusations behind our backs to justify not helping us anymore.  I have done what I can think of to try and make money, I have tried to keep my head up, but to no avail.  Now we are struggling even to raise the $250 or so a month our bills come to.  I have asked, begged, pleaded for help, but like the rest of my life, people treat me as an annoyance and just want me to go away. I have self-published books, I write poetry all the time, but to no avail.  My lone voice seems to be an annoying fife gliding across the wind to be ignored. I created a GoFundMe account to try and raise money, again, to no avail.

                 This life, that has been filled with much strife, feels at an end.  IT just seems that we are meant to suffer and die.  The government doesn’t care about us, my family doesn’t care, truthfully, I don’t feel many friends do either.  I don’t know where to go from here, I don’t want to go on at all!  I have had as much heartbreak and suffering as I feel that I can take.  My sensitivity won’t allow me to ignore the world the way it ignores me, and I hate myself for it!  Why should I care about the state of a world that cares nothing for itself and damn sure not for me and my wife.

                 I don’t know what’s next, but I hope it allows a long rest…

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100% otr

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My crime and what I learned from it.

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Just a few words on how we are doing and some comments about the state of things and how I feel about them.  Blessed day.