“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Thanksgiving Day. The day was very warm—50 degrees—but rainy and gloomy. Nevertheless, Paul O’Neill’s son David was raking leaves as I left the house. Jane hadn’t gone to hydro this morning. She’d had two big BM’s this morning, she said. She now gets Darvoset and aspirin—nothing else—at about 3:30 AM and 6:30 AM.

(3:00. Jane began reading yesterday’s session, but didn’t do very well. Her pace was halting and hesitant at times, though at other times she would do better. She finished at 3:19, after having trouble with words and phrases. I worked with mail. The day seemed to be a quiet one for us overall, although she did say she wanted to have the session.)

(The hospital was very quiet today. Dawn and Judy came in to check Jane’s vitals. Gail and Dawn clowned around with a wheelchair. Seldom does staff have time for such pranks. Some of the rooms in Surgical 3 were dark, their beds freshly made and lying in wait for patients in the gloom. The latest talk now is that new patients will be coming in later this week, to bring the census back up.

(I’d ordered a turkey dinner to go with Jane’s. They weren’t bad, although my pie was left off the order. I brought home some of the leftovers for another meal. Jane had a little trouble with the turkey, which wasn’t the tenderest in the world, and ate a lot of dressing and gravy instead. It seemed weird not to have cranberry sauce with the Thanksgiving meal, but all in all things worked well enough.

(I massaged Jane with Oil of Olay after I turned her, took my nap, checked the TV programs for the evening, said the prayer with her, and left at about 7:05. Margaret Bumbalo had asked me over for a drink when I got home, but I was in no hurry. “I do have a lot to be thankful for,” Jane said, and I agreed. “And let’s look forward to what we’ll have next Thanksgiving,” I said, as I kissed her good night.