Results 61 to 80 of 236 for stemmed:doctor
[...] I believe a doctor told me it was cancer—not very dangerous, could be removed in his office. I had to climb up a long ladder set against a building wall to get to the doctor and even as I talked to him I had to stand below him and look up. [...]
The doctor, the figure, represented your artistic intuitional creative self, your potential self in those terms, to whom you looked for advice and help. [...]
Now: Had Ruburt gone to a doctor or a faith healer when we began our last group of sessions, and then in a matter of a week or so found himself able again to walk with his [typing] table across the kitchen floor, some thirteen or fourteen steps perhaps, where before three were his uncomfortable limit, he might have attributed the improvement to a doctor’s treatment or to a faith healer’s ability — but he would have been impressed. [...]
[...] It bothered her but little; the doctor stated that it could be an arthritic nodule; seeing that this upset her greatly, he reassured her by saying that it was more likely to be the result of an injury. [...]
[...] And in an unwary, emotionally upset personality, particularly if under stress, such a suggestion could cause a harmless and protective nodule to be changed by the strong powers of adverse expectation, or rather expectation poorly used, into the form of what is feared; as a slight but harmless irregularity of heartbeat, with the unthinking suggestion of a doctor, can become through the patient’s fears an actual functional disorder, so could suggestion turn a relatively harmless formation like Ruburt’s into an arthritic condition.
[...] Oftentimes also those in attendance, the doctors or other healers are themselves tired, prone to the patient’s emotional fears, and automatically in self-defense respond by giving voice to the patient’s subconscious dread, picking it up telepathically but feeling it is directed at themselves, on a subconscious level of course.
There followed a very confusing and, to me, upsetting several hours during which Jane and Don tried to make arrangements with Miss C’s doctor, relatives and a hospital. [...] Miss C’s family (nieces and nephews) finally said they would take the patient to the emergency room at the hospital; her doctor told Jane he would be waiting for her there. In the meantime, the relatives changed their minds; the doctor was furious and left. Jane finally contacted another doctor who arrived at midnight and authorized Miss C’s hospitalization.
[...] Her doctor, Marsha Kardon, had had her admitted at supper time the day before [May 20, Thursday] because the middle finger of Jane’s left hand had begun to turn blue from the last joint to the nail. [...]
(I called the doctor not long after Peggy left. [...]
(Long pause at 9:10.) But that our fears lead us, so that at times we’re almost bound to interpret such events as life-threatening, and that’s why we called the doctor, of course. [...]
[...] Dr. Levine, Miss Cunningham’s doctor, came out on the porch. [...] So I waited; in a moment, the doctor came down the steps. [...]
[...] Several times Miss Cunningham came to mind: I wanted to ask her doctor about her condition but hesitated because I wasn’t a member of her family.
In the meantime, the doctor got into his car and drove away. [...]
Now: Records were often falsified; completely doctored, and false records were often planted. [...]
Now, number one is an attempt to get at number two, which was simply a sign of a copy made, a distorted or doctored copy. [...]
(No doubt Seth’s amusement at the Vatican holding doctored records stems from his own brief tenure as Pope in one of his lives.
[...] Instead of seeing a dentist she visited our doctor next door; he put her on a series of antibiotics that lasted for four days, on into the month of June 1964. The pendulum told Jane the swelling was psychosomatic and not a tooth; the doctor agreed, eventually, and Seth did too, in the 59th session for June 3,1964. [...]
[...] He feared most strongly that he would have to visit Colucci, and went to the doctor rather than see the dentist—although Colucci was out in the yard, and Ruburt saw him, as he will now remember.
[...] That focus inclines him to a quite literal insistence that his creative material should in its way act like some supernatural doctor’s prescription that can be at once taken like a pill to solve each and every problem of each and every correspondent, and of course to solve his own problems as well.
In such a situation, Ruburt thinks of work as work, and finds himself wanting—for a doctor after all heals patients, a lawyer solves cases or whatever, so it seems to Ruburt that his work must—underlined three times—make truth practical, and of course beneficially so. [...]
[...] We had no family doctor to call upon, but through the invaluable help of a dear friend who was also a nurse, we set up an appointment with a doctor at the hospital.
[...] [In the first essay I wrote that according to her doctor Jane’s thyroid gland has ceased functioning, and that she has to take a substitute hormone daily for the rest of her life. But the doctor hadn’t expressed any idea at all that a thyroid gland could regenerate itself.]
[...] And if once a doctor had told him years ago how excellent was his hearing, the medical profession now told him that his slowness (his thyroid deficiency) had helped impair his hearing to an alarming degree.