“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

But in any case she decided that I had it, and since I had already shown some evidence in my body, the next thing was how to treat it. Even discounting for the present the more tricky drugs, drugs with many side effects, quite severe sometimes, there was a drug less dangerous. Its side effect had something to do with preventing the blood from clotting so easily in the capillaries, I think. (Persantine.) The more dangerous ones, for God’s sake, turned down the body’s own defense mechanisms and immunity, an effect that really seemed absolutely senseless to me.

Yet I felt that they had patterned my life and behavior for some years, culminating in the physical situation. Actually, I’d explained them very well in God of Jane. They had to do with my religious upbringing, my joy and appreciation of my creative abilities, and my fear of using them at the same time, lest they lead me astray—or lead my followers astray.

Though I haven’t explored this idea yet at all in depth, I got a feeling that by the time I’d finished Mass Events and my God of Jane I’d come to a point of indecision and perhaps certainly some despondency because I had not resolved the issues. My concentration upon the mail had led me to consider more and more the negative aspects of man’s condition. I think it seemed that I could go no further, that I lacked whatever it was that I needed.

(9:44.) That summer also seemed to be a time of crisis, as Rob pressed me, it certainly seemed to me, to seek medical attention. I’d gained a reprieve, but the reprieve didn’t gain positive results. As I read the notes I began to see some sense in the hospital situation. I must have gotten to the point where I thought, “Okay, if you’re afraid to trust yourself completely, and your own life, let’s take a taste of what it’s like to have no other place to turn but the world of conventional medicine and beliefs.” And my God, talk about fatal flaws! I’m not denying that such a framework has its good points, but the overall picture is really far worse than I’d imagined.

The medical tests along the way proved that I did not have some of those most frightening conditions. Other tests that I recall made it clear that my heart and liver and internal organs were in good shape—but Doctor Kardon had seen them newly threatened by the vasculitis, and I felt, “My God, what a merry-go-round of disastrous expectations must everywhere color the medical profession and its practitioners and patients.”