Six-week Update on My Damn Knee (Otherwise Titled, I’m So Not There Yet…)

Mostly because I don’t have enough to do (I’m still not allowed to swim. I can’t fly off anywhere. I can’t even go to the flipping dentist, for Pete’s sake), I think about this one thing a whole lot:

How do people who don’t have flexibility in their jobs or the means to be off work even manage to have this surgery?? I mean, I work from home, so I can manage because I can get work done at my most awake hours (and for anyone who has had this surgery, you know those hours are between 2:30 am and 4:30 am.)

But, how do people really manage 6 to 8 weeks off work? I could no more manage to get myself into an office and sit at a desk at this point than I could vote for a republican. There’s also the matter of not being able to dress myself without some help which could pose a few issues.

So, I keep telling myself how fortunate I am to have the luxury of time to heal. And for a nanosecond, that helps. I quickly return to (figuratively) pacing the floor and ordering things off the internet to keep me busy.

Without further ado, if you are getting ready for this surgery, here are some things to consider at the six-week point:

1. You will be given a list of exercises to do before your surgery. Most will involve strengthening your quads. They are important, of course, though none will likely involve building upper body strength. So, lemme ask you this…can you dead-lift 150 pounds (or more, as the case may be)? No?? You are SO not ready for surgery.

At some point in your recovery, likely on NIGHT ONE, you will need to pull your entire body up into a sitting or standing position, using only your skimpy little biceps. At some point, your arms will fail you and you will lose your grip and end up punching yourself in the face. True story.

2. Curbs at the six-week point are terrifying. They probably were terrifying at the four-week mark, too, but my handlers didn’t let me out of the house after the aforementioned disastrous Costco trip.

Oh yes, you will practice 4” steps in therapy (WHICH YOU WILL NEVER ENCOUNTER IN REAL LIFE BECAUSE NO HOUSE CONTAINS 4” STEPS, PT PEOPLE!) You will be lulled into thinking you are a pro at this whole step thing.

And then, one day, when you are out and feeling rather confident with your new ergonomic cane (the one you hope conveys the message, I AM NOT FEEBLE AND ANCIENT, I SIMPLY DEMOLISHED MY KNEE ON A BLACK DIAMOND SKI RUN), you will encounter a curb.

Did you know that typical curbs are 6” high? Two inches makes a lot of difference. (Get your mind out of the gutter, people.)

As you frantically look around for a sign post or a parking meter or any port in the storm like a passing octogenarian’s arm (we cane people have to stick together, I tell ya), you realize you will need to walk half a block down the road to find one of those sloping entry thingies onto the sidewalk. You will then turn around and head back to your car because you’ve had enough exercise for the day and no takeout salad is worth this BS.

3. In the evening, 6:30 pm will come and you will look at the clock and wonder how the f*ck you are going to make it until 7:30 pm without passing out from exhaustion and boredom. Because you have spent six weeks recuperating, you have watched every Amazon, Netflix, and Hulu series, read all the books, and have resorted to Flipboard updates on the impending royal birth.

There is simply nothing left to do as you elevate and ice for the 9,000th time. I have no great wisdom here – just that you will be beyond exhausted because sleeping is a chore (or more accurately, trying to sleep is a chore) and you will only be able to string a few hours together, so you should be tired. The boredom would be a real issue if you weren’t so damn tired all the time.

Having said that, here are a few ideas: the Wayfair app is an awesome distraction. Neither your spouse nor your bank account will think it is all that awesome, mind you, but you will soon realize that the perfectly fine Persian rug in your living room could use an update. And those lovely arm chairs you’ve had for decades? Craigslist, baby.

You will also begin taking bids from house painters, because why the hell not. Once you get them scheduled, you will start re-designing your master bath and schedule a visit with your contractor to come give you an estimate. You will not tell your spouse about this appointment for a few more days.

4. In one of those pulling-myself-up-with-my-arms situations (after the sciatica thing but before the black eye thing mentioned in #1), an old friend came to visit. This particular friend is a flipping pain in the neck, and I have to take copious amounts of drugs to deal with her.

Like RBG, she goes by her initials, HCD. Herniated Cervical Disc has visited me before, and prior to knee surgery, I thought nothing could be more painful. In fact, I still believe that. But, old HCD came back for a visit because, she said, “What gave you the idea that you could dead lift your body weight and not pay for it, Einstein?”

For this visit, I skipped all the kvetching and went straight to my surgeon and asked for Prednisone which helped last time. They were on it lickety-split and sure enough, within 48 hours, I was pain free. Bullet dodged.

All this is to say, upper body strength is at least as important as lower body strength and if you don’t take it seriously, you too will think knee pain is the least of your worries.

5. Costco is still a bitch. Another visit hasn’t made me think any differently. Having said that, I have elevated the pull-the-cart and walk-with-a-cane ballet to an art form. It’s not pretty, but it gets me through a grocery store.

6. Speaking of Whole Foods. That time when you were so excited because it was 8:00 am and you still had enough energy that you sort of felt like a distant cousin of your old self (which is a massive improvement over the who-the-hell-is-this-person-I-am-living-inside-of self), you think, I’m going to do a little shopping just like old times! By my-ever-loving-self, no less!

And, just as you pull into their parking lot, you remember that while you can wheel the cart to your car après-shopping, you have no such advanced mechanism at your house to get those groceries from car, up the stairs, and into the kitchen. So, you will be resigned to sitting in their parking and ordering your groceries on their app, before rushing to beat their driver’s impending arrival at your house.

7. At the six-week mark, you can host your Book Club and make a homemade lasagna for the main course as long as you understand two things. It will take you 6.2 hours to make said lasagna. Also, you must have a spouse who will actually do all the work while you supervise. Expert tip: start on the wine early.

8. Sympathy from family is quickly waning. They are tired. They just want a home-cooked meal, but because of #3 above, there is no damn way that is happening anytime soon.

You’ve had take-out Thai twice this week. You’ve had take-out Indian. You count a baked potato as a meal and you’ve resorted to God-awful Domino’s pizza more than once. And that’s just this week. You will Google Blue Apron in a moment of weakness.

9. One positive – you spend a lot of time on the phone talking to old friends whom you haven’t had the time to catch up with over the past few years because you now have nothing but time. You get long visits from some of them and you try hard not to make the conversation about your damn knee. You vow to make these friendships more of a priority than your normally over-scheduled calendar allows once you get your literal walking papers.

10. Finally, you see light at the end of the tunnel. You’re at six weeks! You’re walking (okay, limping) almost unaided (except for curbs!) You are finally able to sleep fully on your side! You are nearly THERE!

And just as you are patting yourself on the back after a great PT session, your therapist, Brett-the-Bubble Burster, tells you to go ahead and get on his schedule. through the end of March. Seriously, dude. WTF.

One Month Update on Knee Surgery

Today is my one-month knee anniversary (not to outshine my kid’s birthday, but the two are not unrelated – he was a big baby and wanted to be carried…a lot, which may or may not have contributed to this whole knee surgery business.) 😊

The surgery was, as everyone told me (and I didn’t quite believe) a beast. I have new respect for anyone who goes through this. It’s not the pain that has been the biggest hurdle for me – in fact, I was off all the opioid stuff in the early days, post-surgery. Rather, it has been the extraordinary impact on daily life.

I am quite grateful that I have a job that allows me to work from my home office, that my husband’s and son’s jobs offer enough flexibility to allow them to be with me for most of the past three weeks, and when they weren’t, good friends, have stepped in with phone calls, flowers, visits, and chats. Four weeks with one’s own company alone will send one to the loony bin faster than Donald Trump can get on a plane to Florida.

If you are following along because you have had or are planning to have knee surgery, you already know that flexion and extension are the two almighty hallmarks of progress. In those areas, I have excelled and reached all the goals set out for post-knee surgery patients. Yay for me.

But, for a variety of reasons, none easily explained, my quad muscle has decided to hibernate over the winter, meaning, I can’t lift my leg from a sitting or lying position. Completely fine standing up, but it does impact gait, so while I graduated to the cane a few weeks ago, I remain a hobbling, slower-than-a-snail, mess. My therapists swear it will happen and admonish me to just stick with the program. It is not an uncommon thing – but, it is panic-inducing to me.

I have found it amusing to note, as I am crossing a street (not that I have been anywhere by myself, mind you – my handlers are always at my side…living the Kardashian life, I tell you.) Anyway, drivers initially are so kind if they see me standing and waiting to cross (a lady with a cane makes people nice, it would seem). But, if they catch me hobbling up to the crosswalk in the moments before, they quickly lay on the gas to get by lest they wait an interminable 10 minutes as I cross in front of them.

Sleeping remains a challenge.

Physical therapy has been way more difficult than I had imagined, and I find I am less motivated to do the exercises on my own to the extent they do them in the gym (but I DO them, just not quite at the I-am-woman-hear-me-roar level they might like.) To that end, I am looking to hire an at-home trainer who can help get this train moving more quickly. That said, I look forward to seeing my therapist twice a week – he’s a good guy and both he and his assistant push me gently to hit those goals.

File this under, “never say never”. These are things I never thought I would appreciate (or, in some cases, do):

  1. Putting pants on from a standing position. I long for the day. If someone makes a video of themselves putting their pants on while standing up, I will watch it on repeat all-the-damn-day long, let me tell you.
  2. Having a male nurse help me to the bathroom. That modesty ship sailed about 30 minutes post-surgery.
  3. Having my tailbone electrocuted by my husband.
  4. Oh, you want an explanation for #3, do you? It involves newly-presenting sciatica as a result of overworking my leg, a Tens Unit, and well, the rest you can figure out.
  5. Having my adult son offer to help me to the bathroom. I drew the line there – if there was any motivation to get myself up and around, it was that.
  6. Missing the walker. I made a deal with myself that I wouldn’t get to go out of the house until I was off the walker, so I pushed to get off it, but I miss her. Even though the chick scratched my hard-wood floors, she served a very good purpose.
  7. Threatening to hurt someone with my wooden cane. One word: Costco.
  8. On the topic of Costco, if you have knee surgery and you think you are a bad-ass, save that bad-assery for something other than Costco. You will fail at this outing and end up on the benches with a lot of $1-a-slice eating-people while you wait for your able-bodied family member to pick out the exact WRONG kind of cheese.
  9. Ordering groceries from Whole Foods online. The WF driver visited so often, he and I are now Twitter-buddies.
  10. Talking to myself. Rather, talking to my knee. “Oh please, you never gave birth, so stop your whining.”

I am positive my husband and son could write their own top-ten list.

As my husband remarked the other day, “Oh, so this is what the sickness and health thingy was all about…,” as he pulled the umpteenth bag of ice from the freezer for my knee.

Also, he has been cured of ever wanting to “get in the kitchen and mix it up” again. He loves bowls – you know, those ubiquitous meals that contain rice, greens, roasted veggies (in our house), toppings, and crunchy things? Two weeks ago, when he suggested making them, I walked him through the two-hour prep time of chopping, roasting, mixing, and sauce-making so he could make them for both of us.

He is unlikely to request another house-made bowl ever again.

There are some upsides to this knee business.

My Cane’s a Crutch

That time you slip on your freshly swiffered hardwood floor and as you are recovering your balance, your cane – which you are currently highly dependent on – goes flying down an entire flight of stairs. Stunned, you remember there is another cane just a few feet away that you can hobble to like you’re walking on a tightrope. But, just as you grasp that cane and turn back, you slip AGAIN and that cane too goes flying down the stairs.

Not moving from the sofa till husband gets home. Finishing the Netflix series, You, since I’m already living a nightmare. It’s awesome, btw.

(Nothing was hurt, everything is fine, but terror was in the air for a few seconds as I pondered what my next move would be.)

Lost Cane

Surgery Day!

Christine’s husband here.

She wanted me to thank all the well-wishers yesterday, by phone and text and to give you all a quick update. She is out of surgery and her surgeon said that all went as well as we could have hoped. She is in recovery and expected to have her first PT session this afternoon. I’m sure she’ll update later, but warns that she may be loopy as the day is long. She also sends her appreciation and told me that the good wishes helped keep her calm and positive.

Cheers!

Quick update from me: Been a long day, but surgery went well. Had a scary episode post-surgery, but doing well now. Already up for a few tics, but the vagaling (fainting) made everyone a bit cautious. It was me that pushed to get up and walk an hour after surgery, so clearly my ambition got ahead of my ability, hence the vagal. Husband and son have been terrific, and Hopkins has been exemplary so far. Thanks for the good thoughts, positive energy, and prayers in the lead up to the big day. I appreciate them more than I can express at the moment.

Coffee Shop Musings

Coffee Shop MusingsA guy, dressed in all black – pants, leather jacket, bald head, cammo boots – is sitting in my usual spot. Think less Danny Devito and more Vladimir Putin. He has that terrifying look of someone playing a hit man in a thriller.

Vlad has ordered nothing from the counter, keeps looking at his watch, and is wildly jiggling his leg. He is clearly waiting for someone. I am certain of my impending death in some international espionage situation and spend not a short amount of time contemplating whether I should heed my mother’s advice, trust my gut, make like a bunny, and scamper to the nearest exit.

I reason with myself – my latte is hot and I am finally warm. And, I got a seat by the fire for a change. Also, I want to see the latecomer. My curiosity, for not the umpteenth time in my life, wins out.

Vlad appears to be agitated and I pity the person he is waiting for, who is clearly late. I curse that person who is making my hit man angry(ier). I try to make eye contact with the Russian president – maybe if he sees my kind, social-workery eyes, he’ll spare me when his friend/victim arrives.

He gets up and makes his way to the counter where he orders a flipping espresso. THAT seals the deal. Nobody gets a two-sip coffee this early in the morning. He must need to jack himself up for whatever is about to go down. (I, too, watched The Americans. I know how these things work.)

He drinks his baby drink in one gulp WHILE STANDING. Who does that?? He starts to head in my direction and I meekly smile at him. He does not smile back and I am a little offended. He goes back to his table where he continues his watch-checking and leg-jiggling.

Seriously, dude. Just CALL your friend/victim and find out if the Red Line is late again. (I want to say.) A few more minutes pass and he stomps back up to the counter.

He demands something from the cashier, which I can’t quite make out. Could be all the money in their register. Could be a demand for croissants. Who knows at this point.

And, there it is. He orders up a box of heart-shaped Linzer cookies.

Wait, what was that now? C’mon man. You are giving international assassins a bad name.

Just as Vlad turns around, pink frilly gift box in hand, a blonde woman, maybe in her 50’s, walks in the door. He gallantly presents her with his gift of heart cookies, throws an arm around her, and off they go.

Maybe it’s Trump. Maybe it’s that freaking scary Roger Stone, but the world has become a hilarious and terrifying place.

My night shift nurses just walked in and ordered their usual orange juice and wee bottles of champagne for their morning mimosas. I’m glad the place has returned to normal. After my near escape, I may need to join them.

Coffee Shop Musings

Coffee Shop Musings
Two white women sitting next to me at the coffee shop. About 63 years old or so. Extolling the virtues of Trump. Here are some snippets:

–Why can’t she just let him be a man. Men like to be macho and say those things.
–Hillary doesn’t pay any taxes either.
–I don’t want to pay for other people’s health care. If they take better care of themselves they wouldn’t need health care.
–Most of the people who are voting for Hillary are “blacks” who live in the ghetto and want a free ride
–Trump is the only shot we have
–I have traveled to Sweden. Those people like cold weather and so they don’t get sick and therefore don’t need the healthcare they get free (????)

And for the final gem,

–If poor people would eat more fish, they wouldn’t need Obamacare.

I have thrown enough eye rolls and mouthed “are you f*cking kidding me” in their direction that they’ve lowered their voices. They know they are fools. They know.

Lord, grant me…well, grant me the wisdom not to trip an old woman (or two) on my way out.

Our Take on the June 26 Maryland Primary

This is especially for upcounty friends who haven’t voted early, but are asking how to figure out who to vote for in our Maryland primary. We’ve had a number of calls in the past few days asking where to even start with the tanker full of mailers and gazillion scorecards they are (trying to) sort through.

Here’s the system my husband and I used – neither scientific, nor in some cases, entirely brilliant, but the job is done and three days later, we’re still happy with our choices. Our opinions are our own. No names named – and no finger pointing here. Just reiterating the actual conversations we’ve had around our kitchen table and with neighbors and friends.

First stop is to get the handy LWV guide just to get an idea of who is running for which seats. They don’t endorse, but all candidates are listed with answers from most to broad questions about a variety of subjects. You can find it online or come by for a glass of wine (or coffee) and we’ll give you ours.

It’s a weird year – too many people we like running against each other, both of us have colleagues, former colleagues, or neighbors running. Where we just couldn’t choose one over the other – we split the vote. Stupid, perhaps, but at least our conscience is clean.

The rest represent what’s important to us on a local level, for the county as a whole, and at the tippy top of the ticket, who can represent the state with grace, experience, and thought, although many of them reach that bar, so we feel we are in good hands, no matter who wins in the primary.

Mostly, though, our choices were based on the following:

  1. Were they a transit advocate – did they advocate early and often for the Purple Line – something that won’t effectively change our lives up here, but certainly something I’ve put just shy of a decade into professionally and, obviously, believe will change the face (and fate) of our state for the better. We also believe whenever transit can replace cars and roads it’s a good thing for all of us. Much like those ubiquitous signs popping up in areas that aren’t in a particular candidate’s district, air knows no boundries, either, so fewer roads, fewer cars, more transit is always a front runner for us.
  2. Having said that, there is also reality for us upcounty folks. Does the candidate have a real, doable plan for the I-270 corridor? Being an advocate of All Day MARC service certainly helps, but even that didn’t tip the iceberg for us completely. All day Marc service + a reversible lane + a dedicated express bus lane is more like it. We looked for candidates that rounded out some solutions to solve the insane traffic problems up here – not just paid lip-service to something that won’t be considered (sure we would LOVE a light rail all the way up to Frederick, but we need relief now and I am a good person to assess how long it can take a project to become reality, trust me.)
  3. If the candidate held office at the time, did they show up in our community in person to support our neighbors and friends when the murder of two high school students occurred in a sleepy and safe neighborhood?
  4. Does the candidate, if they are an incumbent, respond to community complaints quickly? Did they solve the problems they were called about – either by giving specific information or making sure the services needed were contacted?
  5. Did the candidate refuse to endorse Hillary Clinton after the primary, even after Bernie did? Yeah, I know, a hard one to pin down, but it’s important for us, especially at the top of the ticket. We reason that we need someone who will pull the factions together as we head into the midterms and into the 2020 election – not continue to drive a wedge in our party.
  6. Has the candidate ever been seen in these parts…I mean like, EVER? Trust me, candidates do themselves no favors by ignoring the low hanging fruit up here.
  7. Do we know the candidate to be an awesome person?
  8. And, in the case of the at-large County Council candidates – we looked at them as a package and wanted balance. Fine to have our favorite people elected, but we wanted at least one incumbent. That would be the terrific Hans Riemer, for whom we would have voted regardless, but he is also the only incumbent running for an at-large seat. We also wanted at least one representative from upcounty – our needs are different from Silver Spring, Bethesda, and Chevy Chase. The other two votes went to folks we have known and supported for years, who happen to live in other parts of the county.

And that’s about it. I’m glad this election season is coming to a close. I hope, in the future, someone figures out how not to have 459,000 candidates running for a thimble full of seats.

Getting Over It & Giving Chances

“There’s an old saying in Tennessee — I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.”
–George W. Bush, 2002

George W. Bush was an ivy-league educated candidate who had been governor of the largest state in the union, and who, by many measures, had done a pretty good job of it. When he was (finally) elected president, putting aside all the hypocrisy and political subterfuge to get him there, the country had every reason to give him a fair shake.

We could understand, just as I’m sure many republicans who reluctantly voted for Hillary Clinton on Tuesday thought, that he would be an adequate, if not stellar, steward of our country. He mightn’t have been the brightest bulb in the batch, nor one with a spine of steel, but we thought at least he would govern from somewhere that resembled the middle.

And he turned out to be a horrible, terrible, awful president. (Newsweek)

The wars he began were just a small part of his awfulness. Some of us marched in Boston and New York and Washington DC. Some railed on television after his lousy decisions. All of it too late, of course.

Some of us remember very clearly the lessons of a president who acted like he had a mandate, governed like he knew liberals would do what they always do and cave in with an olive branch between their teeth – and when they did, he and his dark overlord buddies took full advantage of our newfound apathy.

It is with this in mind that I am incredulous that there are those (small in number, thankfully, for now) on the left uncomfortable with the fact that some of us, many of us in fact, think this KKK-endorsed president-elect deserves nothing more than a cup of his own medicine.

For those of you who didn’t vote for him, who are now calling for unity with a GOP that doesn’t even recognize itself – like this is some kind of normal transition of power – for those who are calling for giving this poser an opportunity, I have a question (or ten) for you, not the least of which is, at what point will you say enough?

I have a sneaky suspicion that you think somehow the GOP will do something different than they have been telling us (and showing us) they would do.

  • Did you think they were lying when they said on day one of the Obama administration that they would do everything in their power to oppose him?
  • That they would gridlock Congress for as long as they could, even if it meant harming the people they served?
  • That they would oppose even bringing this president’s SCOTUS nominee to a vote?

Who could have thought? The answer is, a lot of us. And we weren’t wrong.

So, at what point will you realize you’ve had enough? Unbelievably, his campaign wasn’t enough for you.

Does your self-righteous piety tell you exactly when you will finally realize how dangerous this is? Will it be:

• After he nominates the most racist, uneducated, xenophobic cabinet imaginable? (The Washington Post, Nov 11, 2016)
• After he guts ACA, but leaves children on the plan to appease only the most naive of liberal voters, leaving families who are faced with losing their homes to pay for life-saving medical expenses?
• After his appointment of supreme court justices – and I’d bet my bottom dollar the first Supreme Court nominee will be a right-wing, right-to-lifer woman whose track record should send cold shivers down the spine of any person who respects a woman’s right to choose?
• After he lays the first brick in his beautiful wall between Mexico and the U.S?
• After he holds how many of his proposed rallies will you be begin to be concerned that this seems awfully Nazi-esque? (New York Times, Nov. 12, 2016)
• After he appoints his son and other family members to his cabinet?
• After he is allowed to keep his fortune in a blind trust so that the American public will never know how (not if) this snake oil salesmen is benefiting from the decisions he makes? (Washington Post, Nov. 11, 2016)

Please enlighten me – explain how you can give a chance to someone who, less than seven days ago, was standing by his hateful words, his disgusting characterization of women, blacks, the handicapped, Mexicans? The same person whose election evoke cheers of glee from his white supremacist supporters? (White Supremacists Plan Rally)

My anecdotal take on the small group of you who are telling the rest of us to stand down (and in the wee hours following the election, no less), to get over our whining, to be a good American – is that most of you I know didn’t work very hard, if at all, for the Democratic candidate. Not one of those in my circle of friends who are bemoaning the anger on the left stepped foot outside of their homes to knock on doors, not one made phone calls, and in several cases, didn’t even bother to show up to vote.

A tangential acquaintance of mine was one of the first out of the gate to righteously call for her women “friends” to calm down already. She, by the way, is a white liberal woman in a swing state who actually came to this country as a refugee, but seems to have forgotten that a lot of people fought hard for her right to be welcomed.

By early Wednesday morning, my Canadian friends, and not just a few of them, were already helpfully suggesting that we Americans who were so angry and in shock by what had just happened should try to see the other side’s point of view – posting lots of cheery articles about how we need to work together. Spoken like an expert who has no idea of what it means to a middle-class hardworking family to have to sell ones house or go on welfare to pay for medical bills or one who has never lived under a regime that starts wars to fund an oil empire. I suspect when the next president’s EPA chief, who, by the way, will not believe in global warming, allows further deregulation – our rancid acid rain showering down on their fair citizens might goose them a bit.

My all time favorite over the past few days posted from white men in deep red states is that the hate speech, signs, notes, graffiti admonishing blacks/Muslims/Mexicans to go back to where they came from are some isolated incidents that liberals are making into a big deal. (Rash of Racist Attacks)

Please. Stop yourself.

For one moment, consider that many of us felt personally abused by the next president of the United States. His words cut deep, his actions even deeper. He called people whom we love horrific names. He threatened children and their families. He bragged of sexual aggression. The closest analogy I have to how your calls for us to just stop our whining is a scenario of a rape victim being asked to sit down and find common ground with her rapist. Too dramatic for you?

Okay, how about this.

When your daughter tells you that today at school just as she was sitting down at her lunch table with all of her friends, the school bully yells out for everyone to hear, “Look at what Susie’s eating! She’s a fat pig!”

Or, the bully yells out, “Hey, Ahmed, go back to Africa!”

Or , when your handicapped daughter wrangles her leg braces into a pep rally at school only to hear some loudly whisper, “Here comes the retard!”

Or, maybe when your teenager is standing in line at Starbucks and the guy behind her puts his hands on her ass and she flees, terrified.

Will you stand by your admonition to just give the abuser a fair shake? Will you march your daughter or son over to his house and force them to sit down with him to try and find common ground for the sake of school unity? I imagine you might. Because peace at all cost is far more important to you, it would appear, than her sanctity, the way she thinks about herself, who she allows to touch her, and how your son feels when he is told he doesn’t belong.

So, here’s my olive branch. Get angry. Get involved. Learn the lessons of those who have gone before you. Do it in your way, in your voice, and at your speed. But, don’t admonish those of us who are genuinely hurt, horrified, and disgusted by someone who believes he represents over half of this country. He doesn’t.

Oh, for Pete’s Sake – This Is NOT Rocket Science

There’s a whole lot of Monday morning quarterbacking going on and so much of it is so inaccurate and selfish and just plain wrong. This one worked for the unions so HE knows exactly what happened. That one lives in rural Ohio and HE knows why we lost. She worked for the last administration and THIS is what happened.

Bernie Bros hold Clinton 100% accountable.

“Angry” White Working Men hold Obama 100% accountable.

53% of Women Who Voted for Trump – well, who they say they blame and why they voted the way they did – the jury is still out on this one. I have my thoughts and I think I’m right and I believe the post mortem will support me, but for now, I’ll save the theory for another day.

However, if hell freezes over and an honest media (ha) can find a way (good luck) to tease out the lies they tell themselves and the lies we overlay upon them – well, good luck with that. It ain’t gonna happen. Not one of them, not my white catholic relatives who could never vote for a candidate that supports killing the unborn (and they are not fooled by words they consider rhetoric that involve the word choice), not my white working class colleagues whose husband has convinced them that blacks and Mexicans and immigrants (and, and, and) are gonna take their jobs. No, I don’t think this is a group, in large measure, that is gettable to our side. Not that they aren’t worth some time and effort, just not much. My opinion. Be like Trump and sue me.

Clinton received, what is being reported this morning as nearly 300,000 more votes than her Republican opponent. What we know, obviously, is that the 300K didn’t come in counties where it counted.

I’ll discuss my fan girl love for Karl Rovian political strategy (not the man, please, not the man himself) at another time. It is key and it is complicated and it is boring as all get out. But, it works. Another day for all of that because it’s too early for me to even start the exhausting feat of caring about why what happened, happened. But, as my brain starts to wake up from the fog of the last three days, I know that Democrats forgot a couple of things, in my opinion:

1) Good policy, even great policy, does no good in the voting booth if the electorate doesn’t understand how it came to be – who was responsible for it – what their lives would be without it – in clear, succinct terms.

2) None of it makes a difference if they don’t show up anyway.

3) We went for the middle when we should have been going for the left.

4) The Today show had the bigot himself on nearly every day by phone or in person during the primaries, yammering on about God knows what, but he was there, selling his snake oil until it became fact. We rarely had someone on – and when we did, we had some second tier policy wonk. Our leaders could have called them out. Instead, we thought all the attention would give the bigot enough rope. Well, we learned how that works. All press, even bad press, is better than no press. Media matters – even a dishonest, ratings whore of a media.

Democrats need to sell a bit of their self-righteous soul and understand that being able to communicate is what matters in an election. A vacuum will be filled by something. This time around it was racist language, audacious comments, and a plagiarizing porn star, though I’m sure she is a nice lady, for our next first lady. When the religious right allows themselves to be co-opted by THAT (Mormons excluded here), then you know you’ve lost the public relations game.

There are facts about what the Obama administration actually did that impacted the working class. And then there is the media’s projection of the GOP talking points that is parading around as fact.  I’m dismayed to hear that kind of horseshit coming out of liberal’s mouths these last 36 hours. They know better. We know better.

Soon, we will also have facts about who in those populations didn’t get the message that they were, in fact, helped. Hello, white working women – Lilly Ledbetter, anyone?

The Obama administration was handed an economic crisis to deal with in the same fashion that Bush was handed 9/11. No, they aren’t the same thing. But they were both devastating crises from which both candidates had to recover. In the case of Obama, any improvement in the economy was a boon. For Bush, standing on a pile of rubble and shouting into a bullhorn to the real working men and women doing the search and recovery efforts will ever endear him to many of us, even those who came to deplore him. The aftermath of his alliance with the dark overlord is another story.

From a PR standpoint, and the view from my owned biased lens, I lay much of the election loss at the feet of the media. Coverage of the next president-elect was so over-bloated, beginning at the primaries, that I’ll never trust much of the on-air fourth estate again. My news will come from the writers that I trust. Who got it and will continue to get it. Those who called the bully a bully. Those who weren’t afraid to define the next president of the United States in terms of his actions and his deeds. Those who weren’t afraid to use the words xenophobe, racist, sexist, misogynist without then also trying to save their reputations of being too liberal by providing some false equivalence addendum. I’ll trust those writers going forward. The on air media can go to hell. Matt Lauer and NBC – ya listening? I turned off my morning television months and months ago and I’m betting my hat that many others did the same.

So, what do we liberals do?

It will be a long time before I can break bread with anyone who voted for the next president or voted for a third party candidate in a state where it may have mattered. As someone who is a better communicator than I said, this isn’t political, it’s personal. Their vote was for party over country. Personal over friendship. It will be a long time before they are forgiven for the statement their vote made about the people I love. And, it is not irony that the few of them that I care to (or have to) keep in my orbit who did vote for the bigot, will scarcely be touched by the policies of the new administration.

I will not negotiate, compromise, find middle ground (blah blah blah), or pretend to work with someone who voted for a man to represent our beloved country who said those things about my family, my friends, the people I care about, the people I work on behalf of, the people who I share a gender with.

Because here’s the thing no one is saying: We’ve been in their midst for a lifetime. They are the ones that post side-by-side pictures of Michelle Obama and an ape. I have been in hospital waiting rooms, grocery market lines, hair salons when I’ve heard them talk about black people. Except they didn’t use the term black people – because they didn’t think they had to. The N-word worked just fine. Family members, when they thought they were in closed quarters talked about our current president in ways that made me physically ill. No, we already know who they are – and where they hide, right behind their fake outrage about voting for someone who will “shake things up.”

But these ignorant people have no idea what that means. They couldn’t know, because their new leader has never told them, though he did give them a cool hat with a lofty slogan and they love their slogans, as we know. And, if they succeeded in getting that black family out of their White House, well, there was no way in hell they would let an even worse abomination in the form of a woman take the reins.

I am embarrassed by some of my liberal allies who say we must listen to them to understand where their anger roots itself.

Really? Because I would say, do you honestly think these people are stupid enough to admit to you that they voted for the man because he will stop giving jobs to black people? or poor people? or brown people? C’mon now.

An honest reporter would delve further when they say – I want immigration reform. Well, what do you mean by that? What does that look like? How has it HONESTLY affected your job. Show us how. Tell us how. They can’t, and they won’t. Because, for many of these voters, it doesn’t exist. It’s a convenient cover. The angry white man has always been an angry white man. He just chose not to vote all those other times, because a white man in a white house is nothing to get to worked up about. A black man or a women, well now. That’s a different story.

That’s not to say there isn’t pain out there and there are not improvements to be made and unemployment rates to tackle and salaries to raise. But we know the real story here. We’ve always known.

We already know racism is alive and well, and when our free press chooses to ignore that and instead creates a story that was never there (he’s for the common guy! she’s a crook!) and then hounds that message into the uneducated white working class’s collective head each and every day for months on end (it used to be known by another word, propaganda – google the words Nazi Germany), you get a narrative the most base of our nation can hide behind. You, my liberal kind hearts, will not be able to tease out the why.

Wanna work on racism as a way to calm their fears? How ’bout working on first things first. Get Democrats elected who will re-install the Voter Rights Act. Who will insure that gerrymandering isn’t a way of life. Who will make it so that people like me will want to go live in (formerly) red states. Okay, that will never happen, but sitting down and talking to racists to find out why they feel the way they do? Please. Been there, done that.

Put the horse in front of the cart, for Pete’s sake. Racists fears will be calmed when they realize Democratic ideals actually help them. That their guns are firmly in their racks by their front door. That their God didn’t go away when a woman was elected president. That Democrats pray, and shoot, and say stupid things, too. That their wives actually do want a choice.

Until THEY change their hearts and minds, I don’t want them on my team.

And we don’t need them.

If Democrats would stop wasting their time on this baseless class of xenophobes and start putting their energy into crafting a message that actually resonates with the people who didn’t vote – because, truth be told, all cards on the table here, we have our own uneducated working and poor classes that DO have the ability, whether they know it or not, to vote.

These are the people that we need to sit down with. The Bernie Sanders supporters who actually held their nose, for the good of the country, and showed up at the polls and voted for Hillary Clinton. THEY will be the leaders of tomorrow that will shine and save us from ourselves. They want all the things my Democratic party is built on. They are not the fringe left. They get it – and they are smart and mature enough to sometimes take bad medicine when it will help prevent what happened on Tuesday. They won my heart and my loyalty. No, I will never be a third party voter. I will never vote for the Green Party or for the Independent Party. I’m a yellow dog democrat in the way that Elizabeth Warren is. We believe our party isn’t perfect, but it is very, very good. And change can (and has) come from the inside, bottom up.

But, I will work hard to find common ground with others (on the left) who don’t identify as a Democrat. I firmly believe if we can link arms and figure out a way forward together – that we not let the fact that I care a lot about the environment, but when forced with a choice, I may have to swing toward better welfare for the working poor and not hold that against me – then we can start moving forward. I will do the same for them. We must realize, as the Republicans have, that we have each other’s back. Ministers in deep red Ohio admonishing their congregations to overlook the language and the actions of a known bigot because he is in the party of GOD and the Democrats are not? If my (white, male) educated lawyer friend buys that, then surely we can find common ground between people who need healthcare and people who want to save the environment. Surely.

They get, as I do, as almost everyone I respect does, (and frankly, as I believe Hillary Clinton does), that perfect is the enemy of good. The stars make a pretty great place to live when one falls short of the moon, after all.

But, these folks and the working poor, and the poor who are not working, have a whole lot of shit in their way. Child care, bills, food, the inability to get an ID card, the fear of showing up at a polling place, transportation, television sets and the time to watch them, and the list goes on. I can sit in my nice house, and watch my daily news programs, and eat my fancy Thai take out and rage about the latest policy change, and celebrate the new unemployment numbers, but we know, we KNOW, we simply know, that many of the people who clean our houses and serve our coffee, those who go to our community colleges and take our tolls, won’t get that kind of message delivered in that kind of way. Not now, and probably not ever.

I was in the bowels of a government office building last night and two janitors, Hispanic and young, were emptying waste baskets. One said to the other, “yeah, did you hear about the election?” The other said, “no, was it this week? Did that white dude win?”

I thought to myself – here are two young people who had some periphery knowledge that an election was taking place at some recent point and a vague recollection that some white dude might have won. But that was it. They moved on to another subject.

Now there’s a group worthy of the Democratic party’s time and effort.

I had the privilege of being in a small group conference with Lilly Ledbetter last month – SHE could have made a difference to white working women voting in this week’s election. Her message was clear. Her story was compelling. Her every-women twang was real. She could have made a difference. She was nowhere on the campaign trail.

Policy schmolicy isn’t going to reach them, baby. When the MSM isn’t a factor in their lives, nor are newspapers, or rallies, nor leaflets or yard signs,  nor even wages – unless they understand who is responsible for that raise or that job – then, it is our mission to find out what will get to them. Unions used to do a good job at that – we knew that unions were responsible for fighting for our wages and our jobs. It was easy to know, if we wanted to keep our jobs, then we should vote for whatever candidate supported the unions.

Easy, peasy. The message was there: Unemployment down. Jobs up. Equal pay for equal work a law. Healthcare for all. It just failed to appear on the campaign trail because the media made sure we were instead consumed with slowing down as we passed the train wreck on the other side of the road.