Member since March 2026
An author, photographer and speaker who should spend more time with butt in chair writing, Monica Vest Wheeler's mission is to educate, enlighten, engage and entertain on the topics of the emotional and everyday challenges of caregiving and the human side of injuries, illnesses and diseases.
After a dozen years working community newspapers, Monica “burned out” and was fired in 1992. Then she discovered the joy of creating regional history books, producing nearly a dozen in the next 25-plus years.
Her passion also turned to the emotional complexities of catastrophic health issues like cancer, Alzheimer’s, stroke, traumatic brain injury and more, and writing books on those subjects. She’s spent thousands of hours working with and interviewing hundreds of patients, survivors, families and caregivers, and healthcare professionals. This takes her on the road every year to volunteer for nearly 125 Retreat & Refresh Stroke Camps™ since 2008, and 30 brain injury camps since 2012 from coast to coast.
Four separate caregiving experiences — father-in-law, mother, cousin and aunt — and her lifelong depression and anxiety issues bring a unique empathy to audiences. She’s facilitated hundreds of intimate group discussions for Alzheimer’s families and stroke survivors and caregivers to reassure them that while their experiences are unique, they are not alone. She also puts a “face” on brain injuries, illnesses and diseases with her photography that shows that there is still life to be lived … and enjoyed.
She's added the emotional side of genealogy to her speaking topics, drawing upon her long-term expertise as a historian, researcher and family genealogist. She also interviewed Holocaust survivors across the country a decade ago, spoken to many groups about the emotional and human side of the Holocaust, and plans to publish a book on those experiences.
Home has been Peoria, Illinois, since 1979 when Monica married Roger Wheeler, who remains her chief cheerleader, though he refuses to wave pom poms. They have a son, Gordo, and two rescue cats, Gabriel and Bling, both of whom have special needs and have found a special home.
I've written ever since I picked up a pencil as a child and wanted to pen that great American novel … but was realistic enough to study journalism. Thousands of newspaper interviews were the perfect background to later engage in emotional and personal conversations with individuals and families facing the greatest challenges of their lives.
Uneasy at my first Stroke Camp in 2008 as an introvert, I grabbed my camera and haven't stopped capturing photos of survivors and caregivers engaged in life at these three-day retreats. Shooting thousands of images every year, I'm deeply humbled to see my photos appreciated as the first "real" family portraits post-stroke … and often used at memorial services.
Terribly shy when I started promoting my regional history books, I spoke with the lights down and a slide show so that the audience couldn't see me blushing. The "need" and courage to speak came with tough emotional topics … subjects that initially worried my family and close friends because of my depression. However, I discovered it was the best therapy … speaking with an exposed heart and soul … because that's the only way to reach into the hearts and souls of an audience.
I wrote about it, talked about it … then I had to weigh the value of my own words.
I lost a dear friend January 9, 2010. I was not prepared for Molly to … die. I was prepared to help her when she'd get home from the hospital. She had scribbled a grocery list, and I promised to do the shopping …
I wasn't prepared for her to leave me after the countless hours we had spent together the previous three years … all the phone calls, emails, laughter and tears we had exchanged and absorbed. All the conversations we had had about the REAL challenges of Alzheimer's and life itself.
Molly was a retired kindergarten teacher and an expert on Alzheimer's … a caregiver for her husband Joe, devoted wife, mother and grandmother. She didn't need a list of credentials to earn the expert title. She opened her heart and home when I worked on my book about Alzheimer's. She bared her soul when the pain of caregiving was real. She let me know if I really "got it" or if I was full of crap when I put it all down on paper.
I fell in love with Molly, Joe and their kids and grandkids. They weren't one of those statistics. They were a real family, and Molly gave so much of her time and energy to helping, motivating, inspiring and consoling other families. That took guts and passion, and rarely will you find someone with all that and a smile when you needed it.
As my husband and I embraced and sobbed at her passing, he whispered that she was the "Unsinkable Molly …" Yes, she was unsinkable, unstoppable and a whole Thesaurus of those "un" words. However, it was unthinkable and unimaginable that her tired body would be unable to continue.
She told me how she resolved life's challenges: "Just something Molly needs to walk herself through, with the help of God and friends!" I consoled myself with my own advice to celebrate her life while giving myself permission to grieve and not apologize when I have a "Molly moment."
Yes, life would be much easier, or let's say, less complicated, if we didn't allow ourselves to bond with others. It's safe not to get involved or not to care too deeply. It's hell to lose someone you love, but I wouldn't give away this pain for anything if it meant I couldn't have had Molly in my life.
The joys and the wisdom she gave the world will far outlast the tears and the emotional and physical pain of loss that consumed me … as like Molly, I walk myself through, with the help of God and friends.
She once wrote me after one of my blog entries: "I hope this is read by a lot of people as a story like this can educate many. What an educator you are and to think I know you!"
No, Molly, what an educator YOU were and to think I knew YOU!
After writing for and editing weekly newspapers a dozen years, my boss said I was "too nice" to non-profits and fired me. Success was the best revenge as I started working with organizations to create written materials and history books, and later interact with individuals and families affected by catastrophic injuries, illnesses and diseases. I "stumbled" into most opportunities through chance meetings and being a good listener.
After co-authoring a book on coping with cancer, the local Alzheimer's chapter asked if I could create a volume for their topic. Immersing myself in support group meetings, I fell in love with these individuals diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer's and their families. They let me into their lives, revealing what terrified them, what sustained them … and everything in-between.
With the publication of the Alzheimer's book in 2008, I had found my calling with brain-related injuries, illnesses and diseases. I jumped into stroke, traumatic brain injuries and brain tumors-brain cancer, and focused on ways to heal the breakdown in communication among family members, the detriment of denial, and how what happens to one person affects everyone around them.
Little did I know that I'd be caring for my father-in-law after his Alzheimer's diagnosis in 2010-11. When I followed my own book advice, it was okay, but my heart often got in the way. I spoke and advocated for research and caregiver assistance as I made that tragic journey, living at his bedside the last 10 days of his life at the Alzheimer's facility …
Understanding too well the massive stroke that killed my dad before Christmas 2016 … the lung cancer that killed my mom after 60 years of smoking … the brain injury and near fatal heart attack my cousin sustained that required me bringing him back to the Midwest from California … Yes, little did I know that every lesson I had learned in my vocation would carry me through my own struggles.
What I share is all from the classroom of life … mine and so many others.
I wrote about it, talked about it … then I had to weigh the value of my own words.
I lost a dear friend January 9, 2010. I was not prepared for Molly to … die. I was prepared to help her when she'd get home from the hospital. She had scribbled a grocery list, and I promised to do the shopping …
I wasn't prepared for her to leave me after the countless hours we had spent together the previous three years … all the phone calls, emails, laughter and tears we had exchanged and absorbed. All the conversations we had had about the REAL challenges of Alzheimer's and life itself.
Molly was a retired kindergarten teacher and an expert on Alzheimer's … a caregiver for her husband Joe, devoted wife, mother and grandmother. She didn't need a list of credentials to earn the expert title. She opened her heart and home when I worked on my book about Alzheimer's. She bared her soul when the pain of caregiving was real. She let me know if I really "got it" or if I was full of crap when I put it all down on paper.
I fell in love with Molly, Joe and their kids and grandkids. They weren't one of those statistics. They were a real family, and Molly gave so much of her time and energy to helping, motivating, inspiring and consoling other families. That took guts and passion, and rarely will you find someone with all that and a smile when you needed it.
As my husband and I embraced and sobbed at her passing, he whispered that she was the "Unsinkable Molly …" Yes, she was unsinkable, unstoppable and a whole Thesaurus of those "un" words. However, it was unthinkable and unimaginable that her tired body would be unable to continue.
She told me how she resolved life's challenges: "Just something Molly needs to walk herself through, with the help of God and friends!" I consoled myself with my own advice to celebrate her life while giving myself permission to grieve and not apologize when I have a "Molly moment."
Yes, life would be much easier, or let's say, less complicated, if we didn't allow ourselves to bond with others. It's safe not to get involved or not to care too deeply. It's hell to lose someone you love, but I wouldn't give away this pain for anything if it meant I couldn't have had Molly in my life.
The joys and the wisdom she gave the world will far outlast the tears and the emotional and physical pain of loss that consumed me … as like Molly, I walk myself through, with the help of God and friends.
She once wrote me after one of my blog entries: "I hope this is read by a lot of people as a story like this can educate many. What an educator you are and to think I know you!"
No, Molly, what an educator YOU were and to think I knew YOU!
After writing for and editing weekly newspapers a dozen years, my boss said I was "too nice" to non-profits and fired me. Success was the best revenge as I started working with organizations to create written materials and history books, and later interact with individuals and families affected by catastrophic injuries, illnesses and diseases. I "stumbled" into most opportunities through chance meetings and being a good listener.
After co-authoring a book on coping with cancer, the local Alzheimer's chapter asked if I could create a volume for their topic. Immersing myself in support group meetings, I fell in love with these individuals diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer's and their families. They let me into their lives, revealing what terrified them, what sustained them … and everything in-between.
With the publication of the Alzheimer's book in 2008, I had found my calling with brain-related injuries, illnesses and diseases. I jumped into stroke, traumatic brain injuries and brain tumors-brain cancer, and focused on ways to heal the breakdown in communication among family members, the detriment of denial, and how what happens to one person affects everyone around them.
Little did I know that I'd be caring for my father-in-law after his Alzheimer's diagnosis in 2010-11. When I followed my own book advice, it was okay, but my heart often got in the way. I spoke and advocated for research and caregiver assistance as I made that tragic journey, living at his bedside the last 10 days of his life at the Alzheimer's facility …
Understanding too well the massive stroke that killed my dad before Christmas 2016 … the lung cancer that killed my mom after 60 years of smoking … the brain injury and near fatal heart attack my cousin sustained that required me bringing him back to the Midwest from California … Yes, little did I know that every lesson I had learned in my vocation would carry me through my own struggles.
What I share is all from the classroom of life … mine and so many others.