“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane first became aware that something was wrong with the finger at 2 PM or so Thursday, as we were finishing an interview with Peggy Gallagher about our experience in the 1972 flood in Elmira. The finger began to ache as she sat with it in her lap as we congregated at the kitchen table. At the same time it began to feel colder than the others, and Jane had pain in the palm of her hand and midway up her arm, on the outside and underneath—these points forming a rather straight pathway down to the finger, we noted. However, it was apparent at once that circulation to the finger was impaired. Peggy left, after saying a situation like that shouldn’t be allowed to go unchecked.

(Ever since she’d gotten up on Thursday, Jane had talked about increased muscular activity in many parts of her body, as though the body was trying to free itself in a beneficial way. She’d been quite uncomfortable at times, especially in the legs. Thus the finger business was a complete surprise to us. We noticed increased redness, also, around the nails of the other fingers on the left hand, but that situation had prevailed to varying degrees for a long time.

(I called the doctor not long after Peggy left. Dr. K. said, “I think I’d better take a look at that.” She’d been out of her office, but returned my call to her nurse almost at once. She was at the house by 6 PM, examined the finger and gave Jane a quick general checkup. She talked about a possible blood clot, “other causes,” and mentioned vasculitis, a condition that results in restricted capillary blood flow to the extremities, and can accompany arthritis. She’d suspected vasculitis when Jane had been first admitted to Arnot Ogden early in February, but tests had ruled it out. Dr. K. went home to call Dr. Sobel in Ithaca, and Dr. Wilwerth at St. Joe’s. The former is a rheumatologist who examined Jane at the Arnot, the latter is a specialist in circulatory matters. She soon called to say that Dr. Sobel was out of town for at least a week, and that Dr. W. didn’t think a clot was involved from the description she’d given him.

(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.

(Very kindly nurses quickly helped settle Jane in the room, which was very pleasant. Two of them were taking blood for some nine separate tests almost before we knew what was happening. Two of the blood cultures would take at least 48 hours, we were told, so I envisioned Jane being in the hospital for at least a few days. The nurses awkwardly put Jane in bed after sitting her on the commode. A thick foam rubber pad had been placed on the bed beforehand, however, and Jane found it to be very comfortable. Then at close to 10 PM a technician wheeled in a portable X-ray machine to shoot Jane’s chest. I placed the cold film holder under Jane’s back as she lay propped up on the mattress, but the whole task went quickly. Evidently Dr. K wanted the picture to check on blood clots perhaps breaking loose near the heart.

(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.

(Dr K., being still concerned about Jane’s finger—which had improved somewhat, but was still markedly bluish in cast—decided to prescribe a drug to dilute the clotting ability of blood somewhat: Persantine, in tiny pill-like form, to be taken three times a day. Dr. K. said this treatment had to be balanced against the added risk of infection of Jane’s one open bedsore on her coccyx, for the Persantine reduced the body’s ability to fight infection to some degree. This at once set up barriers in our thinking, but especially in Jane’s. Jane had also learned that everyone at the hospital was against her smoking, and had been told that nicotine helped restrict the blood flow in the tiny capillaries. In other words, one would be better off not smoking. When Jane said that Dr. K had said her lungs were okay while she was at the Arnot, Dr K. defended that analysis by reminding Jane that she’d said her heart was good, but that through the stethoscope she’d heard various “wheezings and gurglings” in Jane’s lungs. Not that the lungs didn’t look okay via X-rays.

(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.

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.