“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(The finger was turning darker, though. Massaging Jane’s lower arm helped. “If you were anyone else I’d have you at the emergency room at St. Joe’s for more blood tests,” Dr. K had told Jane at the house. She was obviously concerned, as were we. On her call, we asked her what she’d do on her own. She suggested we go to the emergency room for blood tests, and we agreed. A few minutes later, as I was hurriedly throwing a few things into a bag, Dr. K. called again, to say that we could save the emergency room fee if she had Jane admitted directly into a room. We agreed. Jane cried briefly. I turned the car around in the driveway, wheeled her out in her office chair, and managed to get her up onto the front seat, awkwardly and with discomfort. I’d called the Bumbalos, our neighbors across the street, for help, but they were away.

(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.