After the good news from the cancer center on Friday, two more pieces of happy news:

First, and most important, after five years of study, Mohamed is now officially a graduate of Washburn with a B.A. in economics.  Although he already had an A.A. degree in business from a Dubai university and although, after his transcript's having been evaluated by an independent agency, Washburn accepted 86 hours of credit, the business school here would accept none of them, so essentially he started from scratch--all the university requirements, the general education requirements, and the degree requirements.  The last course caused a bit of stress.  The professor said she would post the grades by Friday, but they didn't appear until 2 p.m. Monday.  With Washburn's new online system (this wasn't an online course, but there were lots of online components), class members can see the class roster and who's online at any given time.  There were four or five obviously scared students who were online waiting for the grades continuously from Friday.  We were checking roughly every 30 minutes during waking hours--and sometimes in the middle of the night.  Finally and suddenly the good news appeared.  So big congratulations to my husband.

Excerpts from this blog were published last fall as an article in the Oklahoma Humanities Journal.  Carla Walker, the editor, and I were nominated for best feature writing in a magazine by the Great Plains Journalism Association.  I'll just copy and paste Carla's e-mail to me about the results:

The Great Plains Journalism Awards, sponsored by the Tulsa Press Club, were held on Friday at the Mayo Hotel in Tulsa. The competition honors the work of journalists, writers, photographers, and designers among eight Great Plains states: Arkansas, Iowa, Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, and South Dakota.

 

Tulsa Press Club president Nicole Burgin says, “This event was designed to celebrate the professionals who hold people in power accountable, who expose injustice, and who use words and images to tell stories that move us to action or change how we think about important issues.”

 

And the 2014 Great Plains magazine feature writing winner is …

 

HOWARD FAULKNER, author, and Carla Walker, editor, for “Rabbit Punched: An Atheist’s Guide to Living with Cancer”!!!

 

Howard, I can’t tell you how proud I am of this award. It’s all well and good to win for “best cover” or “best page design,” but this award honors the content of our magazine—the heart of programming we use to connect citizens with the humanities. It says that among all the entries of slick magazines with hundreds of pages, multiple staff, and the advantages of ad income and high-dollar budgets, your writing was judged as not only award-winning, but THE BEST. It is, in my judgment, the most prestigious honor our publication has received. Congratulations on this recognition of your talent and the work you’re doing to share your experience. This award is tangible evidence of the value your efforts.

 

Coming your way [watch your mailbox] is a handsome oak plaque, carved with the Great Plains Journalism Awards insignia and your name as “Winner, Magazine Feature Writing.”

 

 

Carla, a Washburn graduate, has done a marvelous job as an editor of the journal, and she did great work editing my blog entries.  I turned the job totally over to her; she did all the selection and the editing of individual entries, and she created a full and representative sampling.  She also wrote a charming introduction.  Washburn (and the English department) should be very proud of her and her work.

 

Friday was the day of our regular six-week trip to the KU Cancer Center, this time for blood work and CT scans.  The first tests were scheduled for 7:15 a.m., which meant we had to get up at 5 and leave a little before 6.  It didn't seem like an ideal time to me, but it worked out well as I was first or second for each test.  Unfortunately, I got my nemesis, the incompetent Marci, for the blood work.  But she was on her game Friday, and found the vein and even put in the right-sized IV connection.  (She sometimes puts in one that's too small, so the CT people have to take it out and start over again.)  Next came the scans, after my drinking the two large cups of water.  There was only one person ahead of me.  They do three or four scans without contrast, and then they use the port to introduce the contrast, which sends a warm feeling throughout the body.  After that there was a two-hour break, when I could finally have some coffee and a bagel.

Dr. Van was even on time for the 10:20 consultation.  Everything, once again, was hunky-dory.  For the second visit it a row, I had actually put on weight.  The primary tumor had grown a paltry .1 centimeter, and none of the other tumors had grown at all.  So we'll continue on the same regime, since it has been working so well.  The ride home was uneventful.  We stopped at our go-to restaurant for lunch, during which I had a serious bout of stomach problems, which continued for the next 24 hours. 

Friday Michele Obama was in Topeka to speak to the graduating seniors from the three Topeka public high schools.  She had originally been scheduled to speak at a joint commencement the next day, which was the 60th anniversary of the Brown v. Board decision.  But there were protests, ostensibly because the individual traditions of the three high schools would be lost, so the speech, bland, but well-received, was rescheduled.

And Friday was also good in that the two robin eggs in a nest on our back deck hatched.  Three years ago, robins built a nest in the same place.  Mohamed took wonderful pictures of the nest, of the four beautiful eggs, and of the baby birds, constantly demanding to be fed.  Just as the fledglings were ready to leave the nest, I had to go to KU Med for nine days for the new titanium femur and hip joint.  When we returned, the nest had been destroyed and the young birds were gone--or at least three of them were.  One had not fared well.  This year, Mohamed is again photographing the progress of the two birds.  I sit on the deck and watch the mother bird, who watches me back.  I hope this time we'll be around to see the two young birds fly successfully away.