I feel comfortable here. I’m not anxious or scared about what’s happening to me. I trust the staff and go along with whatever they say. I know I’ve only been here a few days, but with all of the stress adding up before coming to India, actually being here is much easier.

A nurse instructed me not to have any food or drink in the morning until after I pee in a cup and get a blood test. After the blood test (thyroid?), I am allowed water until the ultrasound I am about to get on my organs. At 9 a.m., a taxi is ordered for us and yet again, we are whisked away. This time, the driver doesn’t accompany us because we are not in a hospital but more of an office of some sort. I walk in, armed with a sheet of paper on NuTech letterhead, which lists the different tests. People in the waiting room openly stare at my white-ness. I’m too tired to care. Apparently, they are super-efficient this day (normally, like in the US, the wait is very long) and I am immediately taken to a little room and for my first test: MRI of the brain.

I put my head in a small cup-like holder as they indicate with gestures that I should lie still, and then I’m slid into an extremely loud tube. I’ve had MRI’s before, but this old dinosaur buzzed like a NYC subway. It was over in 10 minutes. Before I could get off the table, however, another young, shy Indian girl was in the room being instructed to take off her shoes and climb up. Huh? I guess I’m done? Ha! There’s no song and dance here like in the US. It's time to move on. I go back to the waiting room, where they immediately guide me into another little room.

The ultrasound room is small and I’m told to take off my shirt and lie on my side with a sheet draped over. The male doctor enters the room and does an ultrasound on my heart. He is very professional and knows exactly where to reach over and place the instrument without violating my nudity. I can hear my heart beating, like a baby in a womb. I ask if everything looks good and he nods in agreement that everything is fine. Whew. Then he leaves as two Indian women enter…

These women are, as my boyfriend reminded me, “clinical.” They pull down my sheet so my chest is exposed and proceed to discuss amongst themselves how to attach the ten or so electrode holder-thingies around my chest. They turn away and talk about something else for what feels like an hour, so I slowly inch the sheet back up; one woman immediately turns around and yanks the sheet back down. So much for my supposed German “openness”; I am a medical cadaver. Eventually they attach the wires, note something on a computer screen, detach the wires and methodically pluck off the sticky electrode-holders like pulling hairs off an old woman’s chin. I finally muster up the courage to ask: Am I done? Can I put on my shirt? They answer "yes" like it’s an afterthought. (I guess the ECG and ultrasound is over.)

I put on my clothes as fast as I can muster and head back to the office, only to be escorted immediately outside by the same “clinical” nurse, who walks around the building and shows me into another run-down room where an x-ray machine is stored. I quickly disrobe again, push my chest against a black background while she leaves. She comes back, nods, and then exits the room. I assume I’m done (?) and get dressed again and find my own way back to the office. I sit for a few minutes until they motion towards the door. Am I done-done? Awesome. Jessie rewards me with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Back in the hot taxi to NuTech.

The most entertaining part about being in Delhi so far is the taxi ride. I plan on writing a whole separate blog about driving in India and the views of street life, but for now I will note that driving through city parts is an absolute adventure. Did you ever go on “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride” at Disneyland? Yeah, it’s kinda like that. I’m sure there are driving laws, but I haven’t exactly figured out what they are quite yet. I think you generally drive on the left side of the street unless, of course, it’s simply easier to drive on the right. Right-of-way? It goes to whoever is more confident. It’s like playing “auto-chicken.”

By 11 a.m. we’re back at NuTech. They are surprised to see me so soon! Even in India it’s weird to finish a brain MRI, ultrasound of the heart and organs, ECG and chest x-ray in like two hours. How long would that take in the US? Days! How much would that cost? I think it cost me about $250 here.

I’m instructed to go downstairs and meet with a physical therapist, who then tests my reflexes and basic muscle strength to design a physical therapy plan. We discuss scheduling times: I will have therapy at 10 a.m. for 45 minutes and 2 p.m. for 30 minutes.

Later in my room I meet with Dr. Sudeep and guy named Faisal (assistant?). Dr. Sudeep does another physical and tests my reflexes and muscle strength. It's very similar to what my LLMD does during each office visit. This time, I do well except with my toe reflexes. Dr. Sudeep drags an object across the bottom of my foot and upward toward my toes; my toes are apparently supposed to curl in retaliation and they don’t. Interesting. (This is a new one.) I wonder to myself if this is why the physical therapist downstairs did this to my feet over and over again while looking at my toes with a furrowed brow; I thought she didn’t like my flower-laden, purple-toed pedicure!

After a some more discussion about Lyme Disease and the effects it has had on my over the past five years, Dr. Sudeep gives me my first injection of stem cells and reminds me that my room is now a happy, positive place. If I am feeling down or depressed, I am to come out of my room and let people help me! It is time to nurture my new residents and myself.

At around 4 p.m. Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish come into my room with menagerie of other people to welcome me and see how I am doing. I am incredibly tired and am sitting on the floor on Jessie’s makeshift bed/mat so she can do work on her laptop on the table on my bed. The doctors seem a bit shocked. “Why are you on the floor?” (And not on your $40,000 bed, I think to myself.) Nonetheless, they allow me to stay where I am and remind me to rest and relax. They are very cheerful and positive (Dr. Geeta’s voice is very similar to the Good Witch on the Wizard of Oz) as they remind me to look for any small changes in my body and to rest and take it easy. I’m still very jet-lagged and am happy to sit and stare at the wall for hours. Vegetative status continues.

At 6 p.m., a "sister," which is sort of like a nurse, but without the RN training, checks my blood pressure, temperature and oxygen levels/pulse before giving me my second stem cell injection. This will become the routine and in the following days I begin to play a game where I guess my BP stats each time; even Jessie sees a pattern and joins in, "120 over 80?! 110 over 78?!" It’s the little things, right? Anyway, we do this twice a day.

I think I almost made it until 8 p.m. before crashing into a deep sleep. This, of course, means I’m up the next day by 4:30 a.m...again.