“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] Since she’s been in the hospital she’s always handled cigarettes with her left hand, leaving her right hand lying unused across her belly. [...]

[...] Margaret said he’s grown considerably weaker than when he came into the hospital, though evidently the prognosis is okay.)

[...] In the experience the kitten was in the hospital room, and there seemed to be adjoining rooms, as at 458 (the address of the apartment house we’d lived in on W. Water Street). This signified that Ruburt was building up similarities between present and past experience, so that the kitten, appearing in the dream’s present and past also, would indeed appear in the future.

(Long pause.) I cannot stress the fact of Ruburt’s attitude toward the medical profession during and immediately following his hospital stay. [...]

[...] Once again, however, she shied away from translating any more of that dirgelike Sumari song she’d sung to herself, and recorded, shortly before going into the hospital. [...]

The hospital experience was traumatic. [...]

[...] My idea that the hospital might be billing them quarterly or something like that must have been wishful thinking. [...]

[...] Joe is in the hospital, room 560, and has a sarcoma in or surrounding the heart area. [...]

[...] “We were in a hospital. [...] She was crying, saying over and over, ‘Oh dear, I have to go away, and I don’t want to go.’ There was a glassed-in area to the left in the hospital lobby, where you could buy gifts for the patients. [...]

[...] And we weren’t in a hospital. [...]

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. [...] Jane finally contacted another doctor who arrived at midnight and authorized Miss C’s hospitalization.

[...] So I was twenty minutes late getting to Jane’s hospital room 330 this afternoon. [...]

[...] Afterward she tried the brand of liquid vitamins I’d bought on the way home last night; she said they tasted better than the hospital’s brand — but I didn’t see vitamin C or E listed on the label. [...]

[...] As I read the notes I began to see some sense in the hospital situation. [...]

[...] 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. [...]

(I did dwell upon the fact that Seth—and Jane—have yet to go into the main question I’ve asked several times since she came home from the hospital: the current attitude and role of her sinful self. [...]

[...] A struggle for survival, it seemed, came more immediately closer, particularly in the light of the hospital situation. [...]

[...] She felt hot and uncomfortable, even though a window was wide open and the blower on [the air conditioning aspect of the blower has evidently been turned off for the winter by the hospital]. [...]

(Joe Bumbalo came back into the hospital this afternoon in preparation for his fourth dose of chemotherapy. [...]

[...] But then, I didn’t know what to call it any more, particularly when the hospital tests had pinpointed it as exactly that; the blood tests especially. [...]

[...] “But not to the bed there,” I said, referring to the hospital bed we own. [...]

(The hospital was very quiet today. [...]

[...] This was all part of our free-association material today, May 2. She vehemently expressed her feelings, with tears, that if she wanted privacy, being in the hospital wasn’t the way to get it. [...]