“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

At first she didn’t know. The question followed the little talk we’d had after supper. My back hurt somewhat. I’d finally decided that the ache wasn’t because I’d been lifting her physically—all 82 pounds of her—but because of the medical bills we’d received today. (That had been my somewhat amused speculation to begin with.) We’ve gotten a flurry—a small blizzard—of bills from doctors during the last few days.

“Value fulfillment?” I thought. “What the hell am I letting myself in for? And how have the events of my life come to such a turn?” This was, of course, as anyone familiar with hospitals knows, only the beginning. There were numberless blood tests. I also had to be lifted onto and off the bed, onto and off the portable commode.

I remember when I had my first bowel movement at the hospital. Eyes closed to hold back tears of humiliation, I felt my arms lifted by an orderly (long pause), my thin belly and ribs straining in the brightly lit room, my backside lifted and supported by two other strange arms, while a third person—I don’t want to sound too vulgar—