“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

[...] A coincidence — a mere trick of fate that Joseph could be walking through the old man’s home,² and that Mr. Markle would be spending his last time in a nursing home, as had Joseph’s mother — meaningless but evocative that this house was for sale, and that the old man was insisting upon a price higher than the house is worth, just as Joseph’s mother insisted upon a high price for her own home, and determined to get it.³ Period. [...]

[...] There are more “coincidences” involved than those Seth described tonight, none of them consciously known to Jane and me before the Sayre adventure: Mr. Markle is in a nursing home but a few miles from where we live in Elmira, and my mother spent her last days in a similar home less than 15 miles away; one of Mr. Markle’s children lives in Elmira, and is connected with a store Jane and I have visited; Mr. Johnson, of the real estate couple that conducted us about in Sayre, did sign painting and truck lettering as a younger man, as I did; he and I had several mutual acquaintances in Sayre, among them an older artist of some reputation — and now deceased — that we had known in our high school days; and so forth.

[...] A new nurse, a student, came in to take Jane’s blood pressure in mid-sentence. [...]

[...] A new nurse came in to do Jane’s vitals—temperature 98, etc. [...]

[...] The girl said something about Jane and “skilled nursing care,” but I didn’t really understand her, and let that go. [...]

[...] A new nurse came in to take Jane’s temperature — 98.3. Karina had been yelling throughout the session — so much so that at times I’d almost missed what Seth had been saying.

[...] A young male nurse or aide came in to take Jane’s temperature and pulse. [...]

[...] Jane had been told by the nurses a few days ago that she could have morphine whenever she wanted it; it’s given by injection. [...]

[...] 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.

[...] By then our visiting nurse had come and gone. [...]

[...] Going out in the yard (as Jane did this afternoon in a wheelchair, accompanied by her nurse) was an excellent case in point, important on practical and symbolic levels.

(Our scheduled meeting with Kim Evans, director of social services at the Chemung County Infirmary, and Connie Lido, head nurse there, took place at about 1:40 This afternoon. [...]

[...] I’d gotten her prescription for E-Mycin refilled as soon as Jane’s nurse had pointed out the reinfection, but Jane hasn’t been taking it faithfully, three times a day, as she should. [...]

[...] Saw two nurses, or a doctor and nurse, in white. [...]

[...] Lorrie is the gal who, with a student nurse, broke Jane’s leg when turning her, when showing the student how to do it. [...]

[...] Therefore, actually producing the physical work for the publisher was going to be up to me, and I was anxious to begin work on this once we’ve established some sort of viable daily routine revolving around Jane’s nursing care, sleeping schedule, medication, etc.

[...] You do not add reality, physical reality then, to improvements as they first show—you do not nurse them expectantly as you would a seed. [...]

[...] And you also have a reality here; and this reality, to some extent, nurses your own existence and reaches down into the system that you know, even though you are usually not acquainted with this reality. [...]

[...] No nurse visited Monday. [...]

[...] She is a nurse at the Hazelton hospital.

[...] While at the bank yesterday noon I met Wanda, a nurse who worked in the office of a doctor I’d seen some years ago for an ear problem. [...]

[...] Now he must let it nurse him.

(“Did you expect my father to go back home?” I meant: what did Seth think of my father going back home to live under mother’s care, from the hospital, instead of going to a nursing home, as we had all thought quite possible.)