“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(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.

I don’t mean to be too hard on myself, either. To be told that you might have a brain tumor, or multiple sclerosis one week, as I was in my early days at the hospital, then be told that I would most probably never be able to put my weight on my feet again without a possible series of long operations. To be told my hearing might possibly be gone for good, or that I might need an instant operation to avoid losing a finger, to be told that it was certainly possible I could lose fingers and toes—all of those suggestions and ideas, with their implications, were hard to take, and in many ways I handled them well.