“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(I was eating breakfast at 7:50 when I received a call from the hospital. [...]

(I hadn’t realized that her grandfather, Joseph Burdo — “Little Daddy,” as Jane had called him — had spent a couple of years in a hospital for TB when Jane had been around ten years old. [...]

[...] They all understood, since they knew I’d been at the hospital all day. [...]

(It seems reasonable to describe a stay in the hospital as “a turbulent event, or unpleasantness,” and as “A disturbance again, and a storm; whether or not this storm is physical I do not know.” [...] It is possible the hospital records contain more on Miss Bunn that would be revealing here, but I did not ask Lorraine to try to check.

[...] The visitor’s pass contains a number code referring to Miss Bunn’s hospital record, Lorraine tells us; and the pass is like a page from a book, in that such passes are kept in spiral books at the hospital.

[...] The test object is a visitor’s pass, produced by the Arnot-Ogden Hospital, where Lorraine is a secretary. [...]

[...] “An event of 1965” can apply, since Miss Bunn was admitted to the hospital on June 7,1965.

(Pause at 4:27.) In the same way, Ruburt encountered the hospital surroundings from another viewpoint, seeing how apart that environment was from a normal situation. [...]

[...] Joe also survived the hospital environment.

[...] The girl told me that one of the checks I’d deposited for Jane’s hospital fund wasn’t for $1000, as we’d both thought — but was instead for $1 million. [...]

(I brought Jane back home from St. Joseph’s hospital in Elmira, New York at about 4:15 PM yesterday. [...]

[...] Two of the blood cultures would take at least 48 hours, we were told, so I envisioned Jane being in the hospital for at least a few days. [...]

[...] The nurse, Joyce, who was head of the treatment for decubiti at the hospital spent a lot of time going over the proper treatment with us, and gave us a quantity of sterile water, Silvadene, sponges, saline solution, etc. [...]

[...] This at once set up barriers in our thinking, but especially in Jane’s. Jane had also learned that everyone at the hospital was against her smoking, and had been told that nicotine helped restrict the blood flow in the tiny capillaries. [...]

(Yet she could rotate her arms, one hand circling the other above her belly, in a way that she hadn’t been able to do for, literally, months—years perhaps—certainly since she began going into hospitals. [...]

[...] Each patient is supposed to have one, according to NY State inspectors who are at the hospital this week. [...]

[...] In the hospital we put up with circumstances that we’d never have even considered at the house.)

(Today he told me that he’d found out Jane was in a hospital from someone he writes to in one of the Carolinas, so he called our area hospitals until he learned which one Jane was in. [...]

(I should add that when I realized what the check for the $1,000 meant, I had strange initial feelings of guilt and of rebellion, of being now in a pretty vulnerable position in some strange way, even though the money would help with hospital charges. [...]

[...] The insurance company told him, I believe, that according to her medical records, Jane didn’t need to be hospitalized—a strange attitude, and one neither of us could believe. [...] I got from him the name of the supervisior of claims at Blue Cross, as well as a person, Mary Krebs, head of Utilization Review, which determines what level of care a patient is at, at the hospital.

(This morning at about 11:15 I got a call from a girl in the billing department at the hospital. [...]

[...] I think Jane has made some remarkable gains since leaving the hospital. [...] “During those frightening-enough hospital episodes I learned under combat conditions, so to speak, how to trust my body,” she wrote one day—an apt-enough analogy, I think.

Just over nine weeks have passed now since I brought my wife home from the hospital. [...]

Until she became so ill that she was practically forced to go into the hospital, I’d always felt that my wife’s single-minded yet literal focus of intent was capable of lasting however long it took to reach a particular goal—whether for five minutes or fifty years. [...]

Already we’ve given up many old living patterns since Jane came home from the hospital, and in a strange way we now have the freedom to focus daily upon just a few main things. [...]

[...] In the dream, Jane saw Miss C in a hospital; Miss C was very thin, and dressed in black. [...] In this hospital where Miss C was, things were also being sold.

(It will also be remembered that we did not hold our regularly scheduled 26th session, due February 17, 1964, because of Miss Callahan’s being taken ill, and finally going to the hospital.

[...] Miss C then asked Jane if she would bring in the mail, etc., while she was in the hospital.

[...] In her notes on the dream, Jane wrote that she hoped the black did not symbolize death for Miss C. Jane was quite relieved to learn that while Miss C did have to go to the hospital, it was for a more or less routine operation, and nothing more serious.

[...] She was in a hospital bed, having labor pains. [...] I saw an older woman and a young man in the hospital room and was able to describe them. [...]

[...] The child had been her own, and my description of the room tallied with her hospital room. [...]

(On the way to 330 this noon I stopped to give the hospital the check for $18,000-plus that I’d received the day before yesterday from Blue Cross. A couple of weeks previously a check for some $3700 had arrived; the two go together to make one payment as billed by the hospital to the insurance company. [...]

[...] She herself suggested the idea, that I take her to Sayre for the day so she could go to the hospital with my mother, while I returned to work at Artistic Card Company in Elmira. [...] Other arrangements could have been made to get my mother to the hospital, and in the future will be done so.)

(On Sunday, May 18, John Pitre called Jane from Franklin, Louisiana and asked that Seth hold a session for his wife Peg; she is in the hospital, in poor condition, with muscular dystrophy. [...]

[...] And he did very well, tell him, in his encounter with Mr. Fisher, and with your mother’s friends in the hospital room.

[...] It made us wonder about working in hospitals — it seemed everyone was sick at one time or another.

[...] She told me of a dream she’d had last night, vivid, involving her walking, putting on new clothes while in the middle of a street, of leaving the hospital and going across a street into a Five and Ten, of putting pretty decorations in her hair. [...]

During her last days in the hospital Jane simply stopped eating, and I knew that her transition to another reality was near. [...]

[...] Since she had died in a Catholic hospital, I called for a priest to speak at her bedside. [...]

[...] On the way to the hospital I stopped at Acuto Pontiac to make a date for having the car’s gearshifting checked: Wednesday at 1 PM. I can walk to the hospital from the garage. [...]

(I stopped at a Convenient Market to buy potato chips to contribute to a party the staff is giving for one of the aides who’s changing jobs at the hospital. [...]

[...] “You ought to make a note,” she said, “that because of our conditions in the hospital the sessions are a lot shorter. [...]

[...] Tomorrow morning I check with him regarding tax matters and donations and what sort of bank account I should open for the hospital money.

[...] The hospital had been very quiet today, and we’d been left pretty much alone most of the time. [...]

(During the day Jane called the hospital to try to verify the information [...] The hospital did not know which rest home. [...]

[...] Without going into all the details about Seth, Jane learned from Miss Dineen that in the middle of that week, which would be on April 15, Miss Callahan’s condition became so bad that hospital officials insisted she be moved to a rest home as soon as possible. Miss Callahan required constant care, which the hospital could not provide.

(When Jane called the hospital on April 20, she talked to a nurse who did not know the details of Miss Callahan’s case, Miss Dineen said; otherwise we would have learned of the real circumstances of Miss Callahan’s removal much sooner. I had thought that her removal from the hospital meant an improvement in her condition.)

(She was therefore moved from the hospital on Saturday, April 18. [...]

[...] “There’s only one answer,” I said in answer to her news about the hospital. [...]

[...] In the meantime, she’d gone into the hospital on April 20, 1983. [...]

(On March 29, last Thursday, I failed to get to the hospital to see Jane for the first time since she was admitted last April 20. [...] The day before, John Bumbalo had taken me back and forth to the hospital.