My Wristband is Shiny and Green

~*~This was written yesterday at around 7:00 PM~*~

Wellll. The last six-ish hours:

I got my bone marrow biopsy, and I definitely have Leukemia. It's the better of the two kinds they were talking about, and everybody was very happy about that (it's all relative, right?).

So I WILL be here for at least a month. And a few people have asked, so here is my address:

Nadine Dyskant-Miller
601 Elmwood Ave.
Rochester, NY 14642
4-1400

(That last bit is important, it tells them what room I'm in.)

So...

At around 1:30 PM two nurses wheeled me (on the same bed that's in my room, it's really cool) through a bunch of hallways, and several sets of doors. I saw another young-ish patient, the first I've seen, and so far the only. He looked to be about 14. We exchanged amused smiles, as the nurses tried not to run into anything with my bed.
They kind of failed.
Then one of them remembered that I needed to be wearing a mask when I was out of my room (because I have a low amount of white blood cells, which means my immune system is not really working, and I can't be exposed to anything). It was so strange realizing that people couldn't see my smile (and a smile was definitely there, mostly because of the bed randomly bumping into stuff).
We finally arrived at a random (hopefully not to them) room with random equipment, most of which I can't remember. They talked to me a bit about what they were going to do (get a sample of bone marrow and a piece of bone (I think?)). Then they talked to me about the stuff they would use to put me out for a bit (it had a fancy name, which I can't remember). Supposedly it would make me go to sleep in 5 seconds (!!!), and I wouldn't remember anything.
They hooked up a syringe to my spare IV (yup, I've got a spare IV), and started inserting it (cloudy white stuff in the syringe) into my bloodstream. I amusedly informed everyone that I was still awake. Still awake. STILL awake. And then I fell asleep, and I kind of remember falling asleep. Then I woke up, but not entirely, and they wheeled me back to my room. And I felt like there were several hundred pounds of weight over me, and I slept a bit more. And then I woke up, and now I'm up (and it's about 4 hours later), and everything is normal.
I do indeed feel like I "slipped and fell on an ice-skating rink", which is exactly what Lauren, one of the doctors (Oncologist, I think?), told me it would feel like. Not bad, everybody keeps asking if I want to take Tylenol, and I'm like, "NO, it hardly hurts!".

I met Rosie, the music therapist, today. She was very nice (um, everyone here is nice on some scale, mostly very), and we talked about music therapy a lot, since she knew I wanted to possibly be a music therapist. She offered to give me guitar lessons, which made me very happy. She also told me that there is an inter-faith chapel that has good acoustics, and that when there aren't any services going on I can play in there. And there's a piano. Yay!

There are two people named Eric who come in a lot, both of whom are very cool people. And there are just generally a lot of different people popping in and out. It's nice, and it's also amazingly nice to not have anyone in here at all (!!!).

I start chemotherapy on Friday. I'm already trying to decide what color wig to get. From what I hear, there are a lot of possibilities. Suggestions? If I really don't know, I'll go by popular vote, so get your vote out! =P
One of the doctors said that he has seen peoples' hair grow back different from how it was before! Apparently a blonde turned into a brunette. That's crazy, I kind of can't wait to find out what mine looks like.

I still can't believe I'm going to be here for a month. I'm going to stick all sorts of things to the walls for sure, and actually use the closet. I haven't unpacked. Not sure I want to, yet.

And now that you've read all of that (maybe...), I just want to say, you're all such amazing people. I smiled so many times reading your comments on my last note, and hearing your voices on the phone, and seeing you in my room. But especially it's the words. It's hard to imagine NOT getting through ANYTHING, with all of the support you're giving me. And I love you all.

--Note: This is copied from the "note" I posted earlier on Facebook (when I mentioned comments, that is where they are). Most of the people I know are on Facebook, and it's the way that I communicate with them, but I know that plenty of people aren't.