“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane held no session yesterday, December 5, but I’d like to note a couple of items. Jane had to have her catheter changed three times while I was there yesterday. Obviously, it didn’t work right the first two times—just before lunch at about 1:50, then after lunch at about 2:30. Jane ate well in between all the action. though. The last effort was made at 4:35, and succeeded without much effort, by LuAnn and Lorrie.

(Jane tried to read the session from the day before, but didn’t do well. She was having spasms also, but managed to finish the session finally. As often happens, she did better reading as she went along.

(The main thing I want to note is that after the catheter had been changed for the last time, Jane very nearly turned over on her left side by herself. This is very important. She thinks LuAnn may have given her an initial shove to get her going. At the same time, Jane doesn’t know how she did it—the action evidently was the way it should be, largely automatic. I heard her exclaim over the feat at the time, without paying a lot of attention, since I’d shoved my chair back into a corner to get out of the way while the staff worked on Jane; I was doing mail. But this is quite an advancement for my wife.

(The day was warmer—40 degrees—but very damp, and ended up raining heavily by the time I left for home. Room 330, however, was cold all afternoon, even after the heating man tinkered with the thermostat. For most of the afternoon Jane consented to having the cloth from Switzerland thrown over her.

(Jane didn’t go to hydro this morning, since the tank broke down. I did meet Steve, the attendant who takes care of her in hydro. I’d seen him in the corridors often, and he’d seen me—but netiher of us had connected the other with Jane.

(3:20. Jane tried to reread the session for 12/4, but couldn’t do much with it. Her left eye was working poorly, cloudy. Her right eye is fine, and sees colors well, she said, but for some reason the two eyes together couldn’t read well. She managed to creep along, and did a bit better as she went along.

(At intervals all afternoon we could hear, even with the door to 330 shut, a woman called Louise call out endlessly, “Help me, help me, help me, help me, help me....” Over and over. I found her cries both fascinating and distracting, as I wondered what kind of mental mechanisms were responsible for her behavior. We’d heard yesterday that she was bothering many people on the floor. The voice seemed at times to be merely an automatic, unaware reaction to whatever obscure mental processes were going on within her mind or brain—vocal signals broadcast out into the world, perhaps without meaning to others but probably of significance to their originator on certain levels. I should have asked Seth to comment.

(Which reminds me that after she left us, Susie went next door to tease at Christina, but for some reason Christina didn’t respond with her own Russian mixture of unintelligible cries and pleadings for Georgia.

—according to those rhythms of which I speak, but know that I am present and approachable.