Originally intended to simply focus on book reviews, over time, KaliDesautelsReads has morphed into its own entity.
I write about issues that are near to my heart, be they political, feminist, motherhood, mental health, or, as the title holds, books.
A thirty-something Canadian woman in my mid-thirties, I have been “super married” to my high school sweetheart since 2006, and together we have two crazy, clever, kind, hilarious, wonderful kids.
My first book – How Not To Blog: Finding Myself, One Post at a Time is available on Amazon (in eBook formats for you clever tech readers, and paperback for those of us who love that new book smell!)
I have tried a podcast – it’s still on Apple and Google Podcasts – but writing is where my heart is.
My life changed dramatically when my husband was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer in 2018, and I am now a writer for a leading Canadian Cancer Non-Profit.
I am lucky enough to have a family that loves me and pushes me to be my best, even if it is outside of my cushiony comfort zone. I have a village of friends that nourish me, mentally, and spiritually.
Welcome to my thoughts. Sit down. Stay a while. Enjoy a cup of coffee!
Do I look tired? I feel tired. I feel tired all the way to my bones, and further still, if there was a further. Today, Saturday, should be a day of fun. It should dance and rockwall and going out with my friends. It should be laughter and fun and time with my husband. But it isn’t and it won’t be. My husband’s cancer pain is vacuous – both sucking out the air of our lives and filling the new found space with 3AM pain, and 12am medication alerts. The worst is still yet to come, so I feel guilty about my current exhaustion as it feels untimely and premature. If exhaustion was an Olympic sport, maybe this would be training. It’s not though. Exhaustion is not relieved by piling more on top.
“Your husband has rectal cancer.” The surgeon said this in the calmest, most matter of fact way. There was nothing harsh or careless about it. Just a fact.
This has to be a bizarre joke, I thought, as I quickly looked to Dave. Dave was not smiling, but rather nodding ruefully. My face arranged itself into its usual pinched expression when I do not understand something, or feel leery.
“I could see it through the scope. We will need to do a colonoscopy and a CT Scan and bloodwork right away,” the surgeon continued as he typed away at his computer. And armed with that information, on December 19, 2018, we held hands and fell down the rabbit hole.
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In 1999, I turned 16 years old. My parents had a rule that I may not date anyone until I was 16, and that year, my friends decided to have dates to the high school Valentine’s Day dance. Even my Irish Twin younger brother was roped into taking one of my girlfriends as a date. I was not keen on the idea of dating, and was less than thrilled when my brother began asking his friends if one of them would be my date. My brother and I had a matching friend group – we spent our break and lunch times together, our friends all interacting, and hanging out, regardless of the weather, on a patch of cement outside of the Art classrooms. One morning, waiting for the bell to ring, I found myself sitting on the ground while one of his friends, a boy that I had been in split class with through most of elementary school, until he began homeschooling for a couple of years until middle school. As he kicked a wet tennis ball around the cement pad, he casually said “if you can’t find anyone else to take you to the dance, I guess I can”, without looking at me. For years afterward, my brother would say that that was the most successful pick up line he had ever heard. After my awkward agreement, we went to the dance, and have been together ever since. In fact, our second child, our son, was born on the 11th anniversary of that Valentine’s Day dance.
Over the ensuing 20 years, we have had our ups and downs, our fights and our honeymoons. In 2006, we were married; in 2008, we welcomed our daughter; in 2010, our son. We have held together, sometimes by the tips of our fingers through chronic illness, major depression, job changes, goal changes, forks in the road, and have never reached the conclusion that we would be better off apart. When asked by friends how we have “made it work”, it is simply a matter of regardless how hurt or angry we are, there is no vision of our future that does not include the other one. I cannot picture myself old and grey without Dave sitting next to me, or across from me. There is no sleep in a bed alone. There is no instance where we will not come back together. There is a history, a shared life, a story of us. For the first time in 20 years, I do not know if that story will have the ending that I have so long imagined.
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Over the past year I have suggested many times that Dave should see someone. He was often tired and his coping skills were sorely lacking. He was critical of the kids, frustrated at work, and spent a lot more time playing video games. The only times that I felt that my Dave, my best friend, the love of my life, my partner in all things, was present was after the kids had gone to bed and we were alone. Then he would laugh and smile and cuddle. Then he would tell me about his day. His go to is to always be “fine”, but I felt in my gut that he was not fine. He continued to resist and I continued to worry and to work to keep all stresses that I could control out of his life. I didn’t know what to do, and I was becoming frustrated with his lack of willingness to work to find his happiness.
As if in direct opposition to this pervasive mood, I discovered Rachel Hollis and began a year of following my dreams and goals, trying to inspire him to do the same through behaviour modelling. Nothing worked. And then…
And then one day in October, I was at work, trying to beat a deadline, when he called and said “hey sweetheart, I think that I need to see the doctor. Something’s not right.” I felt both anxiety and relief – he had finally noticed that he needed help, but also – he was now scared enough to want a doctor. He told me that he had been having bloody stool since February, but that in recent weeks it had increased to the point that he was now having bloody stool roughly seven times a day. As a carpenter, and shop manager, he had been forced to stop going on installs, and to remain in the shop due to the pain and persistent pressure to use a washroom.
I made an appointment with our doctor, thinking that maybe his stress and anxiety had developed an ulcer and that we would finally get him to begin to be willing to find a solution for his moods. He asked me to join him in the doctor’s office and explain what had been happening. She sent him away with a myriad tests to complete and the requirement that he return within 3 weeks to discuss options and results.
Over the next three weeks, he avoided the sample kits and the blood tests like the plague. My husband is extremely private and does not like to discuss bodily functions or what happens in the bathroom under any circumstance, and I thought that was the problem. Until he told me that he had not urinated in 3 days, despite drinking regular amounts of fluid. This was the day before the follow up. The doctor sent us immediately to the emergency room. We both left work and spent 6 hours being, what felt like, ignored by the doctor, until finally she came to us and said we could go home with a prescription for antibiotics, and rest. Dave was frustrated, hungry, tired and worried about the fact that he would not be getting paid for the missed time at work.
We went to the follow up. Our doctor told us she would send us to a surgeon for a colonoscopy. We were given a date at the end of February, which led us to believe that the issue was not that serious. He completed the run of antibiotics, and found no relief from the symptoms. He felt worse than he had beforehand.
Then the doctor received the stool sample results, and suddenly our appointment was the next Wednesday. On December 19th, we would be driving to the surgeon to discuss to colonoscopy. We drove separately as I would be going to work for my annual review that afternoon, and he would be going home. The surgeon was located about an hour from our town, so we set off early.
We sat together as the doctor reviewed his symptoms and the test results. He asked us questions about family history, and past illnesses and surgeries. It was determined that overall, this was a perfectly healthy 34 year old man, who suddenly wasn’t. The doctor explained that Dave had ulcerative colitis, and would need medication and regular colonoscopies for the rest of his life. He decided to perform a rectal exam in the office, and a sigmoidoscopy. I left the room, because, as I mentioned, my husband is very private about this part of his life.
With sincere relief, I texted my mom and my best friend, explaining that Dave had colitis. My best friend explained how another of her close friends had this condition and that it was treatable and that Dave would be fine. I could hear through the door as Dave and the surgeon discussed his waiting seven months to tell me that he had been having this problem. Then the door opened, and this doctor and my husband were facing me, telling me to come in and sit down. I expected that we would begin to discuss colitis, along with the colonoscopy to confirm the diagnosis.
“Sit down, please, Mrs. Desautels,” said the doctor as I returned to my seat. “Your husband has rectal cancer.”
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#MCM- this is my Little Man. He is literally my Man Crush Everyday. I fell in love with him long before he was even born, and has spent his entire life reinforcing to me every single day that a positive attitude can literally change anything into fun. From his resounding “YES!! YAY!!” When I asked his 2 year old self if he wanted to go to the grocery store with me, to his 8 year old self bolting out the back door to give me the world’s biggest hug and a “Mummeeeeeeee!” When I arrive home from work. I am so proud to be his mama! ❤️❤️❤️
This is my mommy. She is quite literally the most beautiful woman I ever seen in my life. She has the innate ability to know when I need her from anywhere on the planet, even when I haven’t indicated that I do. She just calls at exactly the right time. She is smart and funny and is the only other person will will shout-sings just the chorus of Sad Songs by Elton John with me in the car. She taught me that the best way to change my mood was to dance it out, long before Meredith and Cristina ever graced the TV screen to do the same. She taught me that all books are meant to be read, no matter what. (Especially if I was going to insist on reading so darn many.) She defended me from nightmares, and bullies, and my own body long before I knew how. She has the softest knee the lay my head on, and at 35 years old I still love to have her smooth my hair out and scratch my head like when I was little. She taught me that something that feels like the end of the world today won’t even matter in 8 years. (I don’t know why 8, but she’s always been right.) She taught me that love and family comes first. She taught me that there is a reason that a comfort zone is called a comfort zone – because it is comfortable. She taught me that I have to get my blood drawn, and I have to do the scary things, but it will be ok, because there will be ice cream afterwards. She taught me that Grease was the word long before I had any clue what I was singing about. She has always, always, ALWAYS done what she believed to be right, no matter what. She taught me that there is nothing wrong with being myself. She taught me that I would have highs and lows, and that was ok. …..
I am declaring this #LMMM – Love My Mommy Monday. Happy Monday, mom. I love you. ……
Reach out if you would like to come! This event is called Men and Women Lean In, so we invite everyone out for an interesting evening of men and women engaged in discussion, with delicious foods and wine!
If I ask what you think about the idea of EMILY’s List, I am sure to get at least a few complaints from people complaining that gender should not matter, and that it is more important for “the best candidate for the job” be elected… so I am not going to ask. I am just going to share my opinion that EMILY’s list opens the door for more options for the best person for the job. You do not need to vote for someone BECAUSE she is a woman, but there is now an option to vote for a clever, brilliant qualified woman. There are more women on the ballot in the US for this midterm election than there ever has been in the past, and the hope is that eventually there will be parity. ….
Also – tomorrow, in the US, there is to be an election that might be able to staunch the flow of hatred coming from the White House. If you are an American, you have the opportunity to VOTE tomorrow and to decide how you want your country to be run. As a Canadian watching, I am hoping against hope that the shocking turn from 2 years ago does not continue as a trend and this common sense is the winner tomorrow. I am hoping that you remember that this election effects everyone, and that we are hoping that you do the right thing. ….
Sooooo this weekend was a freaking gong show, you guys! Shakespeare would have called it a comedy of errors, whereby nearly anything that COULD go wrong did. So you know what? I am gonna “glad game” the hell out of it.
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The drive home was spent with 3/4 of The Desautels Family reading good books, while the remaining 1/4 drove, listening to his favourite music.
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We went to the very first Starbucks and it wasn’t very busy, so we got to try the limited edition Witch’s Brew.
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We had dinner in an Irish Pub in Post Alley, and the kids got to drink bottled root beer, which was a highlight for them.
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Target had buy 2 get 1 free kids books today, and I have 2 kids, sooooo… 😉
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Our hotel had cookies and hot apple cider at bed time.
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We all had good night sleeps after watching Monster’s University and a super long walk in the rain.
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The kids have giggled together for 2 days straight, and cuddled nicely in bed last night.
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Our hotel provided a complimentary hot breakfast buffet.
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And – drumroll please- we made memories that we can laugh at 25 years from now.
On Insta, we all show our highlights, our happy moments and the thins that make us look good. This happy family photo is brought to you by an hour of frustration, and hour of stress and finally 30 mins of getting it together and getting out the door.
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After 24 hours of a violent migraine (for me), 6 weeks of the flu (for him), 2 kids who are too excited to actually get ready to go, we are out the door and determined to have a fun mini break for this last weekend in October.
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Double tap if this resonates… (and yep, I am photobombing my own photo)
I discovered the insane world of Google Translate Songs… and while killing myself in a fit of giggles (after a ridic-ULOUSLY stupid evening…) I came across this scene… and clearly had to screen grab it! Seriously you guys!! When my name pops up, how could I not????
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FTR – this is like bad lip reading but for lyrics… so flipping hilarious. And the song that I found my name? It’s Everyday, Bro… no idea. My kids like to sing the chorus. All. The. Time.
Kali J Desautels 