I planned to go to bed early tonight, but there is something interfering with my attempt at much needed extra slumber -- traffic. Wait, it's not traffic. There aren't even that many cars on the street as I peer out into the dark night. But, it sounds as if there are enough horns to justify every car, motorbike and tuk-tuk in Delhi being inside my hospital room. They always seem to honk in a manner that feels like the kind of honk you should use only in an emergency. It sounds in horn language like, "Stoppppp or you are going to hit that poor pedestrian/dog/cow/child!!!" In reality, it's usually nothing but, "Hey dude, I'm coming up on your right to pass you....just lettin' you know."

I can describe the actual noise as nothing other than the chaotic, piercing squeals and deep toned cries of 30 horns that have broken mid-way into an angry honk, all at the same time. Either that, or every driver on the road has fallen asleep at the wheel -- using it as a pillow.

I wonder if the other people in the hospital are being driven insane to the same intensity as I am. My room that faces front, adorned with the windows that I brag allow me to have natural light, are really turning on me. Lyme Disease has made me horrendously and often embarrassingly sound sensitive over the years. I jump when something falls on the floor, my heart racing for minutes afterward. I snap before I have time to think, accusing those I speak to of not holding the phone still when they talk to me -- I'm certain I can hear them brushing their mouths up against it in between words. My loved ones are forced to stay perfectly still during our conversations, knowing full well it will end instantly if I hear anything extra curricular in the background (real or not). In afternoon physio, the therapists love to turn the music as loud as humanly tolerable. I feel my head spinning and finally have to say something. They look at me like I'm crazy. Noise is embraced here, especially if it's music that can damage your eardrums. “What a party pooper she is,” they must think. And I’d have to agree it seems that way. Little do they know I am protecting them from the alternative of being half scared to death and agitated over something as simple as sound decibels.

This honking is one thing I will not miss about India. I have loved the 5 a.m. chanting from the temple down the street ever since my first wake up call here. There is a particularly strong, soothing voice on Sunday mornings that sounds like God on a loud speaker. I can’t understand the guy whose best friend is his megaphone -- but I pretend he’s saying something special for me, in Hindi. The chattering of people at all hours of the night on the streets doesn’t bother me. I can’t lie and say I don’t wonder why it can’t wait till a better time, but I can deal with it. The clan of homeless dogs yapping in unison for what seems like a marathon bark-fest eventually fades into the rest of the world. All the while, the horn honking prevails. I grunt out loud in frustration hoping it will stop, but no one hears me (but me), and I can only imagine how crazy I sound. Sadly, it can’t be worse than how crazy I feel.

It is Super Tuesday in the U.S. and the verbal ruckus of battling politicians on endless hours of CNN are a distant dream (see how desperate I am).

I was just told tonight that I have to fast for some blood work tomorrow morning. This must be different blood work than I was scheduled for Thursday (fasting also). No explanation, just orders to “not eat.” It sounds like a cruel demand at this point -- when I can’t consume enough food to satisfy my hungry stem cells. I keep wanting to confirm with Dr. Ashish that it is in fact the stem cells driving this speeding appetite, but I'm a bit scared of what I'll do if he says no. I think I had about 6 meals today (and not the small portioned ones nutritionists say are so healthy). So, here I sit awake fantasizing about a homemade way to seal my windows, unable to eat the leftover take-out Chinese food I near devoured as a snack yesterday. Life can be so unfair…...and noisy. As I write this, someone has just begun chopping wood next door which makes no sense for a few reasons, but mostly because it’s a bank. Welcome to India, where anything goes and nothing is questioned.

Forget New York City as the city that never sleeps. I love the upbeat song I grew up with having parents from back east, but frankly, the lyrics are ridiculous: “I want to wake up, in a city, that never sleeps.” No one really wishes for that. In any case, I have my own version which I have to say is quite catchy: “I want to wake up, in a city that never beeps!” NYC should have their title stripped and given to Delhi. Not only don’t they sleep, but they insist on keeping me up all night too.