“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(This morning at about 11:15 I got a call from a girl in the billing department at the hospital. She told me that Blue Cross has turned down the major medical claim for Jane, to their surprise. I was surprised and not surprised, mostly not, I guess. The girl sounded embarrassed to tell me the news. I said I’d see Andrew Fife after 2:30 this afternoon. The girl said something about Jane and “skilled nursing care,” but I didn’t really understand her, and let that go. At once I thought of an appeal through Pete Harpending, of course, and a possible lawsuit.

(He told me that such a turndown was the first time he’d seen it happen, and couldn’t understand it. He tried to explain about Jane’s care, but I only partially understood. The insurance company told him, I believe, that according to her medical records, Jane didn’t need to be hospitalized—a strange attitude, and one neither of us could believe. He suggested I see Pete Harpending, our lawyer, right away, saying that we have a good case. I got from him the name of the supervisior of claims at Blue Cross, as well as a person, Mary Krebs, head of Utilization Review, which determines what level of care a patient is at, at the hospital.

(Andrew Fife said Blue Cross wouldn’t want the publicity of a suit in a case like ours, but I said they must go through this all the time. “You sound like me,” he said. My news upon returning to 330 didn’t help Jane any, but I thought she was taking it very well, everything considered.

(I said to her that for all I knew, the incomprehensible position of Blue Cross represented more of the slipshod bureaucratic behavior Seth had referred to on December 3. I still remembered my dream about the checks out by the car, and so forth. Jane said she didn’t recall any dreams about the affair lately. I thought I’d done a pretty good job of keeping my mind off it, myself, I told her.

(4:10. Just as were ready for the session, Sharon Hawley came in to see about eye drops. She left to get some iced ginger ale. We waited. She didn’t return. She showed me how cloudy Jane’s urine was, when I asked. After she left, and while we were waiting for her to return, I rubbed several spots on Jane’s neck and forehead and the top of her head, and got excellent responses to most of them. The crown rubbing brought forth the best response—strong side-to-side, heavy breathing, a feeling, Jane said, in her neck, shoulders and arms and down her back. At the same time, her feet had moved a bit.

(4:28 PM. “I don’t know what he said,” Jane said, but while he was talking I got the feeling that it—the insurance thing—wasn’t going to go on and on—it wouldn’t drag on,” she said. “I didn’t get a time limit, though, that I remember.”

(I stressed once again that I didn’t want the insurance business to interfere with her recovery, which is why I’d voiced such strong approval of her turning herself this morning. I did that before telling her about the insurance, by the way.