Let’s face it; we’ve all been put through the wringer in our lives.  I don’t mean to complain, but I’ve been through once or twice.  I mean that literally and figuratively.  Yes, you read that correctly, I have been through a real wringer.  Well, my arm didn’t go all the way in, so I wasn’t actually THROUGH the wringer.  My mother hit the stop lever before things got ugly.  This is a true story, I promise.

Back in the 60’s, pre-automatic washing machines, people used wringer washers.  Basically, the clothes agitated in a tub with soap and water.  Then the clothes were put through a ringer to squeeze the water out.  The squeezed clothes were deposited, flat as a pancake, into a tub on the other side.  It was then done two more times.  Talk about rinse and repeat. Talk about manual labor!

We had a Maytag wringer washer.  On wash days, I would often help my mom feed the clothes through the rollers.  She always told me to be careful, not to let my fingers get too close, etc.  Well, I suppose I was as clumsy then as I am now, because one day my fingers did get too close and suddenly my hand was in between the rollers.  Nothing was broken or permanently damaged, thankfully.  I don’t think I ever helped with the wash again.  Well, the wringer part, anyway.

There have been times in my life where I have felt like one bad thing after another happened.  When I used to work for a living, it was a challenging project.  As a homeowner, it seems that appliances break, the roof leaks and the hot water heater dies, all in the course of a month.

Now, let me tell you the real crux of my story.  When I started having health issues, they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me.  Talk about being wrung out.  I started with vision issues.  I saw an ophthalmologist who was unable to make a diagnosis.  I even went to a well respected eye hospital and they couldn’t put a name on it.  I then started having tingling so I went to my general practitioner.  No luck there.  I was sent to a vascular guy, a retina specialist, all the while seeing a psychiatrist.  No wonder I was depressed.  Of course, when I told the medical professionals that I was seeing a shrink, they all blamed my physical issues on stress.  It was pure hell.  I went through the wringer over and over.

Finally, I found my way to a neurologist, who did all kinds of fun stuff like MRI’s and spinal taps.  I got to be honest; it was a huge relief when I was told that I had multiple sclerosis.  Seems insane, but I was happy to know that I had a real disease.  At least we knew what we were dealing with.

We all know that my life was never the same again.  Like many of you, I have been through the wringer a few more times.  It’s kind of like rinse and repeat.  But, similar to clean clothes, after we’ve been wrung out to dry, we can start fresh again and again.  I don’t know about you, but I think it’s worth it.