It is with great sadness to say that my husband Howard passed away Sunday March 5th, 2017.

To Howard,
Wish my tears can tell you how I feel. I miss you, and I miss your love and your kindness.
Mohamed


Howard Faulkner died March 5, 2017 from complications of kidney cancer. Dr. Faulkner was born July 14, 1945 in Ames, Iowa, and grew up in nearby Story City, graduating from Story City High School in 1963. A National Merit Scholar, he attended the University of Northern Iowa as an undergraduate, receiving his B.A. in English in 1966. Dr. Faulkner received his M.A. (1968) and his Ph.D. (1972) from the University of Oklahoma, where, in addition to his studies, he was a graduate assistant and special instructor.

He came to Washburn University in 1972 and spent his career in the English department there. He was director of the Master of Liberal Studies program and from 2006-10 chair of the English department. Dr. Faulkner took four year-long leaves of absence to teach abroad. He was a Senior Fulbright Professor at the Univerzitet Kiril i Metodij in Skopje, Macedonia (1978-79), at Sofiiski Universitet in Sofia, Bulgaria (1995-96), and at Moulay Ismail University in Meknes, Morocco (2003-04). In 1987-88, he was a guest professor at the University of Metz in France.

With his colleague Dr. Virginia Pruitt, Dr. Faulkner authored four books: two were collections of the professional correspondence of Karl Menninger, one was a collection of letters to and from Dr. Menninger when he was a mental health advisor to the Ladies Home Journal in the early 1930s, and the fourth was a critical edition of a novel and previously unpublished short stories by the American writer Belinda Jelliffe. He wrote a text for use in Moroccan universities on American culture and Rules of the Game, an introductory text on English grammar. Dr. Faulkner also published widely on American literature.

One of his special passions was travel, France being his favorite destination. Besides the year he spent teaching there, he spent numerous summers in Paris and end-of-the-year holidays in Metz. In his travels and teaching abroad, he also discovered a passion for languages.

Dr. Faulkner is survived by his husband, Mohamed.

A celebration of Howard Faulkner's life is scheduled for 5:00 p.m. Monday, March 27, at Bradbury Thompson Center on the Washburn University campus. Memorial contributions may be made to Save the Children, 501 Kings Highway East, Suite 400, Fairfield, Connecticut 06825 or at www.savethechildren.org.

hour of the wolf,

which was a movie by Ingmar Bergman about nocturnal sweats, a film I found profound and scary forty years ago, but about which I remember nothing now.  Now is 4.a.m., Thursday, February 16, and this is the third time in 24 hours I've tried to write this blog--to let everyone know how I was doing and to thank everyone who has sent their best wishes to me.

But for much of the time, my mind has been mush and I've been in the hospital and for all of that time I've been unable to stay awake to finish a thought--orally or in writing.  Last week, all of the "little things" (as opposed to the Big C) came together.  I couldn't eat, or even swallow. My left ear had lost much of its hearing.  I  had strong pain in my jaw and leg.  But most of all I couldn't stay awake.  Mid-sentence, mid-mouthful, mid-laughter, I wasn't following, couldn't comprehend, and then wss sound asleep,  Mohamed used to ask constantly about appointment--when, with whom, about what.  I couldn't understand how he couldn't remember.  Now he is charge of all of that.  I ask several times a day whom we see the next day; I am incapable to remember.  I know how frustrated her must get when the answer is no one--and still no one when I ask again six hours later.  So early next week we headed to the ER.  (He would say Monday; I would say Tuesday.  Trust Mohamed.)

I  spent four days and underwent every kind of test, several after only a few days since the last time: MRI (I'm getting better at these), CT scans, x-rays, and even a spinal tap.  The results were the same, ruling out metastasis of the cancer to the brain but supplying no answer to what the causes were or whether there was a connection between all the little c symptoms and those of the cancer.

The weekend was quiet, relieved by a second opinion that it was not brain cancer, but with a set of what appeared to be self-evident symptoms of a stroke. When I tried to smile at Mohamed, only the right-hand side of my mouth responded  I drooled out of the left hand 2/3 of mouth.  My speech was blurry and difficult to understand, saddening for someone who was paid for taking for 45 years of his life.  oI didn't stay in rhe hospital,, but I did get a diagnosis:. Bell Palsy.

Today, though I had better check with Mohamed, we'll see my GP's nurse, just to see how things are going, and the ENT doc,, my least favorite, probably to drill another drain in my eardrum and discharge the fluid there.

I've run out of steam.  I'll do a cursory edit, and then more soon about what's next.

winter of our discontent; discontent of our winter

Tuesday we went back for another session of physical therapy on my neck.  The therapist was the owner of the facility rather than the 20-question tech I usually have.  The guy was really strong, and where he worked, it was a deep massage--almost painful.  But he's afraid to work on the shoulder or on the back for fear of activating tumor cells, so although the therapy may help a little, it doesn't cover as much as I'd like. I've worn a neck brace several hours a day for over a month now.  I can't turn my head, having to turn my whole body, slowly, instead.  I'll do a few more sessions of therapy, but that should be enough.

I have kept thinking that as much running around in the car as we do, one of these days...   And Tuesday was the day that a very elderly farmer decided to rear end us.  I can't say he ran over to the scene of the accident, but he hurried as fast as he could because he didn't want us to file a police report.  He was too late.  He also was hoping he could convince the police that this was an old dent.  The police weren't having any of his story.  Luckily, no one was injured and the damage was minor, but a collision and the complications that follow weren't what we needed at that point.  The police were efficient and courteous, and my earlier fears about what treatment Mohamed could expected were unfounded.

Yesterday, it was a time for a return visit to Topeka Ear, Nose, and Throat.  Of all the doctors and facilities we have gone to over the last six years, this is our least favorite, and they are the least courteous.  They always act as if we are an imposition and they don't really have time to finish a consultation with us but need to rush off to someone else.  But my ear had continued to drain more than it should, and my hearing in the left ear was damaged.  We had a new doctor, but the old ways continued.  By now, the drain had come loose, so he just left it out.  He vacuumed a lot of mushy stuff, and then suddenly just quit and said to come back in two weeks.  It's still draining this morning.  I have drops that soften the mess.  But there's a bizarre feeling, and nothing much seems to have changed.  None of the other doctors or specialists act concerned, and Mohamed was feeling extremely frustrated in that no one seemed interested in putting the pieces to all these problems together--if indeed they do.

After that unsatisfactory appointment, we killed time with a Heath Bar Blizzard from Dairy Queen (me, not my more virtuous partner) before heading to an appointment with Dr. Hashmi, just for a consultation.  Weighing in, I had lost nearly 20 pounds.  The last time I had such a result, the fault was with the scale; this time, my appearance indicates that I really have lost the weight. But as always, Dr. Hashmi was pleased as the tumors have not grown or found new homes.  The primary cancer looked stable.  And then we began going through all the small problems that have made my life difficult--from the runny ears (they're still running) to bone pains to a month-long stiff neck.  We could adjust this, tinker with that.  Was I depressed?  We could add an anti-depressive.  But I wasn't really all things considered, so we'll postpone that for a while.

Then I could see that Dr. Hashmi was getting ready to bring things to a close and that Mohamed wasn't prepared to do so yet.  So he began asking more questions about how the pieces converged.  Wasn't there a pattern to at lease some of the symptoms?  And then Mohamed asked me to stick my tongue out, and we had an aha! moment.  I have a deviated tongue, and try to treat this fact with some respect, not with snickering.  And it's deviated to the left.  As are all other ear, nose, and throat symptoms.  I'm having trouble with too much saliva, and my speech is sometimes slurred.  The most likely cause is a small stroke, or a series of strokes.  (Having trouble speaking for someone who talked for a living is very strange.)  More serious would be a metastasis of the cancer into the brain.  But it does seem there is a connection between my brain and the scattered symptoms that have made the last few months so difficult.  And just pressing, pressing your doctor as Mohamed did can finally pay off.  Next Wednesday, I'll have a two-hour MRI on my brain and neck. 

The revelation was obviously not good, yet in some ways it's good to know what's going on rather than just treading water in a slough of uncertainty.

Wherel's Howard?

Easier to find than Waldo, I suspect--tuches firmly planted on new couch or at one of what seems numberless branches of the hospital's cancer center. 

The holiday season was pleasant, quiet with several visits from out-of-town friends.  We missed the ice storm that paralyzed so much of Kansas, but it's been gray and often rainy, so somewhat depressing as winter worms its way slowly through.  We gave ourselves a nice present for the new year.  We both spend a lot of time on the couch facing the TV.  We eat there, read there, write blogs there--and that's when I'm alert.  We had a sofa with a chaise longue on Mohamed's end, and it was nice looking and fairly comfortable, but it was too low to the ground to get out of easily, so we decided to replace it.  I could manage one furniture store a day, which turned out to be exactly one week's worth of venturing out.  Eventually we settled on one that represented everything I'd always been snobbishly condescending to: it's a reclining loveseat, and a power recliner at that.  It's got cup holders.  We stopped just short of the precipice and didn't get the most comfortable one that had noticeable stitching.  It is dark blue leather, and much to my surprise, it's not only comfortable (that's not the surprising part), but rather handsome.  It makes staying awake even more difficult.

Healthwise, while Dr, Hashmi may be focused on the big picture, more small problems at different levels arose, so we were back to visiting specialist after specialist, all of whom seemed to lack a gestalt, each of whom had a vested interest in his'her specialty.  The ear ache had continued unabated, so we went off to the hospital's ENT to see a new doctor.  The doctors for all of the last six years, have never had a problem with our relationship and have always treated us as a married couple, even before we were legally married.  They may have been curious, but they were also discreet.  Dr. Barnes was more direct: "Just what is the nature of your relationship?"  I said that Mohamed was my husband, and he seemed confirmed in his assumption, but added that he had been uncertain because of the "large disparity" in our ages.  He gave me an antibiotic, but I had tried that before with no success.  The problem, he said, wss that the ear wasn't draining, so the fluid would build up again.  His solution was to insert a drain in my ear ("the Bold Look of Kohler"); he drilled a small hole in the ear drum, put in the teeny drain, and watched the fluid run out.  It was only a little painful.  The drain should fall out on its own after a year or so, and then things should be fine.  In the meantime, the ear feels much better.

The next problem is that I've been having a lot of trouble swallowing.  I've been losing weight, and though it's not been too hard to find soft foods, they're still not completely satisfying.  I  can just chew and chew, it seems,, and the bolus, instead of diminishing, just increases.  Chewing is difficult, and I have hard time initiating swallowing.  So off to another division of the ENT, where I had x-rays of me eating.  The tech would give me food laced with barium, and we would watch me chew on the x-ray machine.  I mean, we'd watch on the machine; I wasn't actually chewing on the machine.  It was very very strange.  The suggestions seemed common sense (eat ground meat, drink a lot while eating) but there was no hint of a cause.

Finally, in a temporary answer to which muscle will hurt next, it's one in my neck.  I've been wearing a neck brace for the last several days, and we went to a physical therapist who has scheduled some meetings and a few mild exercises.  What he doesn't want to do, he says,--and who am I to disagree?--is to fire up too much muscle activity in the areas where the tumors reside. 

I think that's a pretty comprehensive look and what's going on.  The constant fatigue is like the basso continuo in the background--always there, droning on.  I've used up my energy writing this, and I'm sure it's full of typos.  I'll fix it tomorrow, so you can suffer through today and give yourself a break and wait for a more polished version.

Mohamed Gets His Green Card

What?  Is rhis a holiday repeat?  Didn't Mohamed get his green card a year ago?  Two years ago?  Nope.  Not a permanent one.  I thought I had explained all of this in blogs when the events--applications, acceptances--occurred, but lots of readers seemed confused, and I decided to wait till all was official to try to clarify matters.  I also discovered that despite all of the talk of immigration during the election, few people really understood many of the twists of the immigration/visa process.

If you want to come to the U.S., but do not plan to stay here, you'd apply for a non-immigrant visa.  The most common ones are tourist visas, student visas, and business visas.  As in all of what passes as the immigration process, the possibilities are often bizarre.  If we believe Melania Trump's story and time line, she got a visa that enabled her to model in the U.S. because there weren't enough native models. 

If you want eventually to immigrate to the U.S., the path leads through a green card or permanent residence.  Again, there are several paths that enable you to apply for the green card, the one in question here, the one that we used, is family member (in this case, husband) of an American citizen.  There are others, one of the oddest to me is the green card lottery.  Every year, an immigration committee decides what nationalities are underrepresented in America.  I perhaps oversimplify a bit, but they say, for example, "Hmmmm.  There are plenty of Bulgarians in the U.S., so they don't need to be eligible for the lottery next year.  But there aren't many Romanians proportionally, so we'll put them on the list."  For the next year, then, people in Romania who want to come to America can apply to the lottery.   As its name suggests, the lottery is totally arbitrary.  There is no question of merit or of having relatives here or any other rationale.  Many immigration attorneys are scam artists, and nowhere is this more true that with lottery attorneys.  There is nothing an attorney can do to aid an applicant, but no matter how many times and in what large type the USCIS tries to assure people that all this is arbitrary, no one believes it, and corrupt lawyers make a fortune being paid for doing nothing.  I taught in three relatively poor countries, and no student believed me when I said that s/he was throwing money away by paying a lawyer.

Mohamed came here on a student visa.  Pre 9/11, it was fairly easy to convert a tourist visa to a student visa or a student visa to one with green card possibilities.  It is much harder now, but marriage to an American is one way that remains (or being sponsored by other family members).  In July, 2013, Mohamed and I got married, and shortly thereafter we began the green card application.  This involves convincing immigration that the marriage is a real one, not a marriage of convenience.  We had to provide health forms, many, many financial forms, notarized letters of support.  This is the vetting--"extreme" or not--that exists today.  The application form itself is a bizarre concatenation of questions from the 50s ("Are you now or have you ever been a member of communist party?" or questions that would baffle even the sharpest of applicants ("Do you have special experience with explosives?").  There is an interview.  Gay friends who began the process at about the same time we did, had their interview first.  They said it was low-key, definitely not the way I'd characterize our interview with someone who seemed to have a giant chip on his shoulder.  His last words, not telling us whether we had passed or not, were, "Remember: 50% of all marriages end in divorce."

Still, we were given the green card--except that it is a conditional, two-year document.  After two years, we had to go through basically the same process to have the conditions removed.  So last February, we compiled all the same documents and waited for the acceptance.  After a few weeks, we received a form letter, saying the conditional card had been extended automatically for one year, while Immigration reviewed our petition.  It all seemed quite perfunctory, since we have been together over seven years and are together almost 24/7.  Our gay friends were on the same schedule, or so it seemed, and in summer they received the lifting of conditions and permanent green card.  We got nada.

Finally in October, we received a letter saying they needed more evidence.  There was a list of what we might provide, but it was what he had provided originally and then again in this application.  We filled out more forms and photocopied more documents.  And then nothing.  We were particularly worried about what would happen if the extra year expired.  We could in theory follow our case online.  For the original application, USCIS was very good at keeping the site and info updated.  This time nothing changed.  We called three times.  There were 240 minute waits to talk to a human (they call you back).  All three people that we talked to were non-native speakers, so it wasn't always clear what they were saying.  But it became obvious that though they were very friendly and willing to talk about procedural matters, they wouldn't talk about anything substantive.

The year of grace is nearly up. What if the sheriff of a nearby county thought Mohamed was speeding?  We're not exactly living in pro-Muslim atmosphere.  And then suddenly, about a week ago, the online status was updated.  And a couple of days later, it was updated again to say that on January 3rd, the new card had been issued.  And then today, the new card arrived.  A sigh of relief was heard throughout northeast Kansas.  The green card is finally permanent.  If Mohamed wants to become a citizen, he can start that procedure.  But if not, he can live here as long as wants with most, but not all (he can't vote, for example) of the rights of any other resident.  That may suffice.