“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Our scheduled meeting with Kim Evans, director of social services at the Chemung County Infirmary, and Connie Lido, head nurse there, took place at about 1:40 This afternoon. Jane was eating lunch when they came in to 330. The meeting went about as planned. I suppose both sides scored points, or exchanged information, but I told them we weren’t signing any admission papers. Jane told them she didn’t want to go there. We received an unwelcome surprise when Kim told us that on November 18 Fred Kardon had signed a paper stating that Jane no longer required acute care. We hadn’t been told this.

(Kim told me Jane is second on the list for admission to the facility now. “It could happen tomorrow or six months from now,” she said, meaning an opening. She seemed receptive when I explained our need for privacy, that it was vital therapy, and talked of moving Jane directly into a private room. But if that didn’t work out, Jane would have to wait her turn in a double room—and there was no telling how long that could take, she said. So I see no real offer of help there.

(“That’s the system,” Connie Lido said when I told her Fred hadn’t told us he’d signed that form. Over in her office, Kim Evans said that the report on Jane noted that her joints were “frozen.” and I explained to her that that wasn’t the case at all—another instance of lack of communication. She also explained something to me about indigence—how, after a certain period of time Jane and I would be considered separate people so that she could qualify Medicaid payments, I believe—and that, even if they got after me to make up those payments, I could refuse to do so. This is certainly garbled—but she made some notes on it, and I’ll be giving them to Pete, or at least telling him about them when I call him in the morning.

(There was much more said by all concerned, but I won’t attempt to give it here. I told Jane as I fed her the rest of her cold lunch that I’m going to have to start cutting down on the typing involved with these sessions, so that I can be sure I get each day’s work done before another load arrives the next day.

(Jane wondered about getting Sue Watkins to type the Rembrandt book, without any notes at all. When I asked her why, she said to get money. I said that when we needed $15,000 a month, the book meant little. I didn’t mean to denigrate the value of the book, but it can’t help us much—no book can at this date. I’m not against someone else putting that book together for publication, providing someone wants it, and things may work out that way. At one time I thought of asking Tam if he’d do it. It’s another instance of having something there that I can’t seem to resolve—very frustrating.

(Jane didn’t finish lunch until close to 4:00. She’d done no exercises, nor had I looked at mail. At 4:12 she began reading yesterday’s session—holding it upright by herself with both hands again—but she didn’t read very well. She was also having some bladder spasms, not surprisingly. Jane finally got through the session with my help. I hadn’t thought we’d manage to have a session today, the way things were going, but even though it was getting late. Jane said she wanted to try at 4:50. I said go ahead.)

They are no more than insect sounds—perhaps irritating, but unimportant. Ruburt will not be forced to take any steps toward moving to another location, without his consent and approval—underline approval. Such affairs are only the shadows of probabilities—that is, experienced merely as shadows, and not fleshed out, because of your own better attitudes and knowledge. Ruburt will have no setbacks, tell him, and his improvements will continue. He will be able to go home, and in some comfort, long before you may imagine.

I may or may not return—again, according to those rhythms of which I speak. But know that I am present and approachable.

(“I figure on calling Pete tomorrow morning and telling him about today’s events, but I don’t want to change probabilities by dwelling upon them. At the same time, I get angry when I think we’re being manipulated, and so forth. I feel a conflict there. I don’t want to change our present situation here in the hospital when we’re getting results, so I don’t really know what to do....”)

(Pete surprised me by saying that he’d talked to Fred Kardon yesterday, here in town. Fred, he said, was on the defensive. Pete ended up getting mad at him—for Fred contradicted himself by saying that Jane required acute care, but that all the other facilities in town said they rejected her for that very reason. I don’t know whether I’m correct in this interpretation or not, but Pete said Fred was evidently trying to protect himself. So’s everyone else, I said. I told Pete about Fred signing that form on November 18, saying Jane didn’t require acute care.

(I kept the session in mind, so I didn’t go so far as to tell Pete to go all out and start suing everybody—although we’ve discussed litigation re the insurance. But what I want Pete to do is to thoroughly familiarize himself with all facets of our “case,” so that we can then make some intelligent decisions. I didn’t even tell Pete that, but will probably end up doing so. Now I don’t know whether to call Fred and get mad this afternoon, or what, considering the material in the session. The session may be acting as a healthy brake on my going too far, too quickly. If so, I’m grateful.