“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I made only one false turn driving to the emergency room at St. Joe’s, since we’d never been there before, but found the entrance easily. A hefty security guard lifted Jane out of the car into a wheelchair. They were waiting for us in the emergency room. While someone took Jane up to her room, #456—in pediatrics, by the way —I found my way to admissions, after getting lost in the hallways once. Since Jane still wasn’t covered by insurance, I could get her only a semiprivate room. The black girl at the typewriter had the papers all made out, from the information Dr K. had given last February when she’d talked of transferring Jane from the Arnot.

(Since I’d forgotten to bring Jane’s medications, I had to list them for the nurses. A nurse got Jane some toast, ice cream, coffee and pudding, since we’d missed supper. Jane didn’t eat much after all, though. She smoked, although it was prohibited. Visitors were supposed to leave by 9 PM, but I stayed until 10:30: I was groggy by that time.

(Early the next morning Jane had more blood taken for more tests. Dr K. saw her, and Dr. Wilwerth, who stayed only a few minutes and didn’t think a clot was involved. Dr. K. was fairly sure it was vasculitis, “which never gets better,” etc., from her point of view. Jane still felt the finger’s condition was the result of other muscular events in her body. When we’d described those to Dr. K. at the house her reaction had been “Do you mean cramps?” —meaning that she saw nothing positive or healing in all of that muscular activity, only something meaning more trouble. We’ve learned that Dr. K. is an extremely conscientious person, but our way of thinking is quite outside of hers. The nurses told us she’d called several times the night Jane was admitted, and that she had the reputation of being very caring and conscientious—qualities we can certainly admire and respect.

(When I arrived at Jane’s room at 1 PM on Friday, I was quite surprised to learn that she was going home that afternoon. Things shut down over the weekend, more or less, and no blood-test results were available yet. The nurse, Joyce, who was head of the treatment for decubiti at the hospital spent a lot of time going over the proper treatment with us, and gave us a quantity of sterile water, Silvadene, sponges, saline solution, etc. We could tell she was enamored of her work and very sincere in all of her suggestions. Our own ideas were that treatment was all the better the simpler it was.

(Jane said she’d heard that some of the blood work was to be done in Rochester, New York: the results will take a while in coming. As of today when I’m typing this, Sunday, we’ve heard no word at all about any results. Dr. K hasn’t called, either yesterday or today. I had the prescriptions for the 100 Mcg of Synthroid, and the Persantine, filled at Gerould’s yesterday. Dr. K. said Jane could begin the 100 mcg of Synthroid Monday instead of waiting until Wednesday as we’d originally planned. And Jane announced that she didn’t want to start taking the Persantine—that she feels she knows what caused the finger difficulty and wants to get information on it in sessions, either hers or Seth’s.

(Tonight’s session started later than usual because of a mix-up in communications between us: I thought Jane was too groggy after supper as she sat at the card table in the living room, so I went to my room to work on the intro for Dreams—whereas she was waiting for me to come out and sit with her to see if we’d have some sort of session. Her impression was that we’d do this each night, so I must be wrong here. On Friday after she came home I’d said it was vital that we have sessions in order to try to find out just what events had triggered the whole event of her latest illness from the very beginning. I’d added that if we didn’t learn to think positively and have faith—even blind faith—we’d be truly lost. It’s the only way we’ll ever get rid of the medical establishment, I believe. She agrees. But I really wanted to know what had set things off. I still think Janet’s troubles are rooted in resistance, I said, massive resistance, and that the latest rounds were triggered by the publication last year of God of Jane and Mass Events. I was hoping for something on all of this, this evening.

Right now, I feel you and I and the house and the whole bit supported by some great force that swirls around the house and the trees and through my body, so that it circulates through my blood. And I really feel that according to whatever terms we want to use, this is God’s great motion, moving and supporting me. Just as it moves and supports all of the earth. But I could sense that motion, and can now, rather than just intellectually say the words.

I guess I think that all disease, to one extent or another, anyway, is fear (pause), and I felt a few minutes ago my neck doing some odd things. And I don’t know what these are. But I felt tubes coming down my neck where they’d been so rigid that they bent where they shouldn’t, and the blood flow wasn’t as good in those bends. And I visually and mentally saw the one in the back side of my neck that went down my neck and shoulder relax and straighten out, so that the blood began to go down easier and quicker. And I felt the same thing happening down toward the arms, and that there was one long tube in particular in my left arm that had been bent and twisted, like a portion of a rubber hose —and that also had to do with the release of wrist and elbow motion, and that that was releasing, getting straighter and unbending.

I think that all art is created at that level—that is, with that sense of support that isn’t our own alone but a part of the great force that sustains all of life. (Long pause at 9:17.) In any case I feel all that in my body now. I feel that way. I think Rob and I should sit after dinner a little bit each night for a Seth session or for some other development such as this.