“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.

(When I got to 330 this noon Jane told me that this morning after hydro, she’d actually turned over on her left side by herself, for the first time. Georgia was there, and saw it along with Gail Greene, who was actually taking care of her this morning.

(I’d debated with myself about not telling Jane the insurance news until I had a chance to ask Seth about it while she was in trance, but soon decided that wouldn’t be fair. I told her, then, not long after arriving in 330. Half-crying, she said her good news about turning hardly equaled the bad news about insurance. I stressed the fact that her turning was indeed excellent news, and meant that she was on her way to even better things. It is vitally important, I said, and her continuing improvement has the power to solve our other challenges, as I noted once some time ago in a session.

(Jane knows this. At the same time she began having bladder spasms after I’d broken the news. This morning her catheter had irrigated okay, although the urine is cloudy. I mentioned that, obviously, I’d like Seth to comment on the insurance business. This morning I’d reread his brief passages in the session for December 3, in which he’d noted that the affair would be settled to our satisfaction. Now I wondered what was going on, of course. I wondered about a shift in probabilities.

(Jane ate well this noon, though. At 2:30 I cleaned our glasses and called billing. Andrew was out but the girl would have him call back. We watched In Search Of, and I read to Jane the short newspaper article about the death of Newell Mullin, who is Sue Watkins’ father. She started to read yesterday’s session when Andrew Fife called at 3:12.

(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.

(3:50. Lynne took Jane’s blood pressure, which was very good at 120 over 80. I applied Rescue Remedy Cream to the knuckles of Jane’s right hand. At 4:01 Dawn took Jane’s temperature—97.5—and pulse.

(“Oh, give me a cigarette and I’ll try to have a short session,” Jane said. “I got so mad I wasn’t going to have one.” She hadn’t mentioned turning over again.

(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.

(“Oh. I’m tired of waiting,” [for Sharon, who never did show up, by the way] Jane said, and began the session.

(“It’s me,” Jane said after a pause.

(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.”

(Jane tried to slide her glasses down her nose, then back up again after she’d cleaned her eyes. She couldn’t quite get them back in position, so I helped her with a little nudge.

(But sleep well, Jane, and continue with your recovery as usual. That’s the main thing. It may be the only thing of real importance, for it can transform our future.)