Do you remember spin art that you would get when you went to the fair? That is the image that came to my mind today.

On December 19th, 2007, my daughter was born. That is a story for another time. As my daughter began to grow, it seemed she would get sick quite often, and we would end up at the doctor’s office just about every time. It didn’t seem to matter what sickness my daughter ended up with; I would end up with either the same sickness or some infection that seemed to coincide with her sickness shortly thereafter. Then I would end up at the doctor’s office as well. This pattern continued until she was about 7 years old. To say the least, I knew my doc way too well.

I had gotten a new job, and there was a full physical and blood screen completed as part of the onboarding process. That Friday afternoon after the full physical and blood screen, I received a call from the nurse from the doctor’s office where I had my physical and blood screen completed. After I answered the phone and went through the introduction and name verification, the nurse wanted to follow up with me on the results of my labs. She proceeded to ask me, “Mr. Messinger, are you feeling okay?” I responded with “I feel fine.” She went on to tell me that my white blood cell count was twice the normal value and that if I didn’t already have some sort of infection, I was most likely going to get the flu over the weekend. I was to follow up with my family doctor the following week if I didn’t get sick over the weekend. After I hung up the phone, I flung open the refrigerator door and grabbed the orange juice and began to chug. As I drank the orange juice, I went and grabbed some echinacea to add into the mix. I figured I was being wise to head off sickness with some good old-fashioned vitamin C and echinacea to boost my immune system. The weekend came and went, and no sickness occurred. I did, however, learn a valuable lesson. When one drinks too much orange juice, it coats your palate with an acidic film and other than time, there is no way to rid your mouth of the acidic taste!

I would follow up with my family doctor, and he would send me for another full blood analysis. After the first test was completed, I was instructed to go again to follow up on the first round of test results.

Then the phone call came in. It was the doctor calling. I knew something was up because usually the nurse calls and tells you all is well, and you move on. Unless there is a problem, your doctor does not normally talk to you on the phone. Doctor Pog (name changed) qualified our conversation by telling me not to get too worried about the news he was about to tell me. While the news was not something you wanted to hear, there was no immediate need for large concern. Dr. Pog proceeded to tell me that I had a form of leukemia. Blood Cancer. My bone marrow makes cancerous white blood cells. Therefore, the good white blood cells that it makes are constantly fighting the cancerous white blood cells. I am diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia Delete 13 Q. What this means is that for every cancerous white blood cell I make, my body fights it off with a healthy white cell. My white cell count is normally high due to this factor. It is more or less a 1 for 1 deletion.

So, good news! I am not gonna die…haha. However, the diagnosis fills in the gaps in my medical history. I had already had corrective surgery for a hiatal hernia (sphincter that opens to the stomach). Over the years, I had many more hospital visits than the average person for my age at the time. In addition, it certainly explains why I would get sick every time my daughter was sick as well. It also explains why it takes me longer to recover from sicknesses than others. However, the best part of the diagnosis is that now they know how to treat me when I do need treatment. I was just 41 years old when I received this diagnosis.

My father died from stomach cancer in 1980. He was only 36 years old. He was in the hospital from November 1979 to February 1980. My mom saved some of the bills from his hospitalization. I still have them. Interesting note: In 1980, you had to pay separately for television in your hospital room.

Spin art paint is the vision I see when I think about what might be lurking in us. Now, I don’t have a hatred for spin art. In fact, I like it a lot. The way I remember it is there was usually a clown (but not always) running the station. There was usually a line, and you had to wait your turn. The clown was usually covered in paint due to the splatter from the paint flying off the wheel. There were many different colors to choose from, and they were all in a squeeze-type bottle that you would find ketchup and mustard in. The clown would put the new white cardboard stock on the wheel and hit the button to make it spin. Then it was all yours to paint away. You could start out in the middle and work your way out or you could drip or move the bottle back and forth in a jerking motion. It was your art, and you could do whatever you wanted with it. As my memory serves me, the better results were obtained for those who had patience and did not overdo the volume of paint.

We don’t really know what is lurking inside of us. Most of us walk around looking normal and have no idea what is going on inside of us. I imagine cancer to look like the spin art from the fair. There is no same spin art portrait. It looks different for each person. The reason I associate spin art is twofold. Cancer tends to spread, and often there is no understanding of how it made it from one place to another in the body. However, spin art also represents the beauty within. Having spent time working in a hospital setting, I watched cancer take many lives. However, I have also watched plenty of folks beat cancer and strengthen their resolve. If not permanently, at least for a time.

For me, spin art represents the life that we can live regardless of what might be lurking inside us. We can paint a life that is giving to others.

What’s lurking inside you? What does your spin art look like?