Poor Yoricks’ Summer – Infinite Jest, Pages 876-906

876-883: November 20. Transcript of concourse (headed by Rodney Tine, Sr.) discussing a mercantile designed to help kids resist the enticement of “the Canadian cartridge”. The caution is scheduled to be broadcast in the approach year, the Year Of Glad.

883-896: Gately in the hospital. His sponsor, Ferocious Francis G., visits. Gately furthermore has a notepad and pencil, but that has trouble writing left-handed.

Gately wants to make report Ferocious Francis how he’s discovered for what cause no one second of even unnarcotized station-trauma-infection-pain is unendurable. That he be possible to Abide if he must. He wants to part his experience with his Crocodile surety. And plus, now that somebody he trusts himself to want is here, Gately wants to drop water about the pain and tell in what manner bad the pain of it is, how he doesn’t think he can stand it one more second. A Pakistani M.D. is talking to Gately near to possible pain meds he should be taking.
‘And so you are things being so ready to let us provide the point of analgesia the trauma warrants in the room of Toradol, simple headache ibuprofen, which these medications are boys doing a plentiful man’s duty here, yes? There has been reconsidering in aspect of the level? Yes? … For I am Moslem, and abstain also, by religious law, from all contumelious compounds as well,’ the M.D. says. ‘Yet whether or not I have suffered trauma, or the dental surgeon of my teeth proposes to meet a painful process, I submit to the degree that a Moslem to the imperative of my aggrieve and will accept relief, knowing none established religion’s God wills unnecessary suffering for His children. …

‘Surrender your dauntless fear of dependence and let us work out our profession, young sir,’ the Pakistani sums up, footing right up next to the vein, the left side, his professional lab-spread a covering over hiding F.F., hands behind his back, the dreary glint of the metal corner of Gately’s chart righteous visible between his legs, immaculate of state, smiling cheerily down, the whites of his eyes as ungodly white as his teeth. The remembrance of Talwin makes parts of his carcass Gately didn’t know could drool drool. He knows what’s future next, Gately does. And if the Pakistani goes in advance and offers Demerol again Gately won’t hinder. And who the fuck’ll exist able to blame him, after quite. Why should he have to attack? He’d received a bona fide Grade-Whatever dextral synovial trauma. Shot through a professionally modified .44 Item. He’s letter-carrier-trauma, in terrible pain, and everyone heard the scarecrow say it: it was going to dispose worse, the pain. This was a trauma-pro in a pale coat here making reassurances of legitimate fucking use. Gehaney heard him; which the fuck did the Flaggers fall short from him? This wasn’t severely like slipping over to Unit #7 by a syringe and a bottle of Visine. This was a refrain from-term measure, a short-gap-protoplast measure, the probable intervention of a pitying unjudging God. A quick Rx-spirt of Demerol — probably at the on the surface two, three days of a Demerol dribble, maybe even one where they’d sickle the drip to a rubber bulb he could hold and self-administer the Demerol sole As Needed. Maybe it was the Disease itself effective him to be scared a medically essential squirt would pull all his cunning triggers again, put him back in the cage.

The M.D. thinks that Francis G. is Gately’s male parent and suggests he tell his son to obstacle the hospital staff give him the needful pain meds. But Francis G. says: “Not my concern to say one way or the other. Kid’s gonna achieve what he decides he needs to behave for himself. He’s the undivided that’s feeling it. He’s the barely one can decide.” Though as he foliage the room, he does add: “Might poverty to Ask For Some Help, deciding.”

When the M.D. continues to crushing Gately, Don G. finally reacts:

Gately’s dutiful left hand skins a knuckle shooting ~right between the bars of the bedside crib-invective and plunging under the M.D.’s lab-coat and fastening onto the guy’s balls and connection down. The Pakistani pharmacologist screams like a woman. It isn’t wrath or the will to harm in the same state much as just no other ideas in favor of keeping the bastard from offering a person of consequence Gately knows that he’s powerless at this importance to refuse. The sudden exertion sends a sapient-green sheet of pain over Gately that makes his eyes level up as he bears down without ceasing the balls, but not enough to contuse. The Pakistani curtsies deeply and bends progressive, crumpling around Gately’s hand, showing whole 112 teeth as he screams higher and higher till he hits a jagged high comment like a big opera lady in a Viking armor for the head so shattering it makes the crib-railings and windowglass quiver and woke Don Gately up by a start, his left arm through the railing and twisted with the force of his try to sit up so that the harass now made him hit almost the corresponding; of like kind high note as the dream’s irrelevant M.D. …

The dream’s vividness had been either fever or Disease, but either resolved mode of action it had fucking seriously rattled his cage. He heard the singsong notes promising about increasing discomfort. His protuberance beat like a big heart, and the punishment was sickeninger than ever. No upright second was past standing. Memories of richness old Demerol rose up, clamoring to subsist Entertained. The thing in Boston AA is they try to give instruction to you to accept occasional cravings, the unlooked for thoughts of the Substance; they distinguish you that sudden Substance-cravings wish rise unbidden in a true devote’s mind like bubbles in a toddler’s bath. It’s a lifelong Disease: you have power to’t keep the thoughts from popping in there. The thing they try to instruct you is just to Let Them Go, the thoughts. Let them draw near as they will, but do not Entertain them. No emergency to invite a Substance-thought or -reminiscence in, offer it a tonic and your pet chair, and chat with it relative to old times.

Awakening from his fancy (it was a dream, right? It’s severe to tell.), Gately recalls crewing by Trent Kite and Gene Fackelmann and his kindred with Pamela Hoffman-Jeep (cf. peradventure Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow’s Nora Dodson-Truck?)

When McDade and Diehl from Ennet House hindrance by and present him with a card they sucker from a store, Gately starts sensibility sorry for himself:

It’s probably the pathetic unsigned folded hot card, otherwise than that Gately’s suddenly stricken by the vehemence of the waves of self-bowels of compassion and resentment he feels about not excepting that the card but about the foresight of these booger-chewing clowns not durable up to eyewitness for his se offendendo subsequent he just tried to do his dispassionate job on one of their account and is now lying here in a equal elevation of increasing dextral discomfort these limber punks couldn’t imagine if they tried, acquirement ready to have to say in ~ degree to grinning Pakistanis about his Disease’s deaden with narcotics of choice with an invasive tube down his mouth and no notebook from he asked for one, and needing to shit and to comprehend the day and no big pitchy nurse in view, and unable to impress — it suddenly seems awful star-spangled-eyed to be willing to aspect on the course of events like evidence of the protection and care of a Higher Power — it’s a fragment hard to see why a repeat Loving God would have him move through the sausage-grinder of getting straight just to lie here in sum ~ discomfort and have to say ~t any to medically advised Substances and have ready to go to jail uncorrupt because Pat M. doesn’t accept the brass to make these ungenerous bottom-feeding dipshits stand up and perform the right thing for once. The displeasure and fear make cords stand completely on Gately’s purple neck, and he looks rapacious but not at all jolly. — Because which if God is really the severe and vengeful figurant Boston AA swears up and down He isn’t, and He gets you close. just so you can feel altogether the more keenly every bevel and border of the special punishments He’s got lined up conducive to you? — Because why the fuck affirmation no to a whole rubber bulbful of Demerol’s drowsy hum, if these are the cite rewards of sobriety and rabidly-smart work in AA? The resentment, be afraid of and self-pity are almost narcotizing. 896-902: Undated (with appearance of truth November 20). Hal Incandenza walking the halls at ETA.
I was impressive down the damp hall when it strike against. I don’t know where it came from. It was some variant of the telescopically self-conscious panic that can be so devastating for the time of a match. I’d never felt completely this way off-court before. It wasn’t perfectly unpleasant. Unexplained panic sharpens the senses well-nigh past enduring. Lyle had taught us this. You comprehend things very intensely. Lyle’s advice had been to turn the apprehension and attention on the fear itself, otherwise than that he’d shown us how to effect this only on-court, in move. Everything came at too many frames for second. Everything had too many aspects. But it wasn’t disorienting. The vigor wasn’t unmanageable. It was honest intense and vivid. It wasn’t like conscious high, but it was still very: lucid. The world seemed suddenly well-nigh edible, there for the ingesting. … But the extreme was there too, endocrinal, paralyzing, and by an overcognitive, bad-trip-like constituent principle that I didn’t recognize from the remarkably visceral on-court attacks of apprehension. Something like a shadow flanked the vividness and clearness of the world. The concentration of care did something to it. What didn’t pretend fresh and unfamiliar seemed suddenly bad as stone. It all happened in the short time of a few seconds. The friendliness of Academy routine took on a crushing successively gaining in force aspect. Hall starts to think of the sum times he’s schlepped up a strange stairwell or how much food he direct eat over the rest of his life. Day later than day after day. And he imagines a place full of the waste he desire produce. It’s the opposite of Gately cogitative about building a wall around reaped ground second and concentrating on abiding in spite of that one second.

Hal recalls numerous things, family history included (on page 898, we get the book’s simply mention of Avril Incandenza’s replete name!), and the reader gets the free from hindrance impression that these are important facts and should have ~ing remembered, but there are so multitude of them. (It’s the same affection reading the Gately sections.)

It now lately sometimes seemed like a complaisant of black miracle to me that persons could actually care deeply about a subject or prosecution, and could go on caring this second nature for years on end. Could consecrate their entire lives to it. It seemed worthy of admiration and at the same time affecting. We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe. God or Satan, politics or accidence, topology or philately — the mark seemed incidental to this will to give oneself away, utterly. To games or needles, to more other person. Something pathetic about it. A soaring-from in the form of a plunging-into. Flight from exactly that which? … To what purpose? This was wherefore they started us here so young: to accord. ourselves away before the age then the questions why and to the sort of grow real beaks and claws. It was charitable, in a way. … The original soundness of addiction involved being bound throughout, dedicated, either legally or spiritually. To set apart one’s life, plunge in. I had researched this. Stice had asked whether I believed in ghosts. It’s at all times seemed a little preposterous that Hamlet, because all his paralyzing doubt about everything, none once doubts the reality of the apparition. Never questions whether his own lunacy might not in fact be real. Stice had promised something boggling to observe at. That is, whether Hamlet force be only feigning feigning. 902-906: Gately in hospital. He recalls quarters of his childhood and teenaged years, playing intermediate school football and his introduction to spirits of wine and various drugs. It is confounding that Wallace holds back – until page 900 – a lot of meaningful infancy incidents pertaining to one of the recent’s two main characters and its credible hero.
His head had been enormous, even as a kid. By the time he suit puberty at twelve the head seemed a enclosure wide. A regulation football helmet was like a beanie put ~ him. His coaches had to ordain special helmets. Gately was worth the require to be paid. Every coach past 6th grade told him he was a hug for a Division 1 college team admitting that he bore down and kept his estimate on the prize. Memories of half a dozen different neckless, buzz-cut, and pre-infarcted coaches all consolidate around a raspy emphasis on bearing down and predictions of a limitless to come for Don G., Bimmy G., fair up until he dropped out in of great price school’s junior year. …

He smoked his primary duBois at age nine, a tempestuous little needle-thin joint bought done jr.-high niggers and smoked by three other grade-school football players in a unfilled summer cottage one had the guide to, watching broadcast-televised niggers advance amok in a flaming L.A. CA hinder some Finest got home-movied crewing in c~tinuance a nigger in the worst passage. Then his first real drunk a scarcely any months later, after he and the players’d bent up with an Orkin man that liked to become kids all blunt on screwdrivers and that wore brownshirts and jackboots in his right side-hours and lectured them about Zog and The Turner Diaries …

He was classified Attention-Deficit and Special-Ed, from rank school on, with particular Deficits in ‘Language Arts,’ no more than that was at least partly because Mrs. G. could barely read and Gately wasn’t interested in making her feel worse. And further there was no Deficit in his heedfulness to ball, or to cold foamers or screwdrivers or great-resin desBois, or especially to applied pharmacology, not once he’d done his first Quaalude at st~ of life thirteen.

Just as Gately’s complete recall of his screwdriver-and-sinsemilla beginnings tends to telescope into one memory of pissing orange juice into the Atlantic … in just the identical way, the whole couple years preceding he discovered oral narcotics, the total period 13-15 when he was a zealot of Quaaludes and Hefenreffer-brand beer collapses and gathers itself below what he still recalls as ‘The Attack of the Killer Sidewalks.’ …

It was confounding that none of this stuff seemed a great deal of to hurt Gately’s performance playing round, but then he was as affectionate to football as he was to verbal CNS-depressants. At least for a time. He had disciplined personal rules back soon afterward. He absorbed Substances only at obscurity, after practice. Not so much as a fractional foamer between 0900h. and 1800h. for the period of the seasons of practice and act , and he settled for just a isolated duBois on Thursday evenings before true games. During football season he ruled himself by an iron hand until the light set, then threw himself on the tenderness of sidewalks and the somnolent sing . …

Gately’s sixteenth year is ~atory mostly a gray blank, except in opposition to his mother’s new red chintz TV-watching couch, and also the acquaintance of ~y accommodating Rite-Aid pharmacist’s assistant with disfiguring eczema and serious playing for money debts. … When he finally returned in quest of his sophomore year of class and younger year of ball at seventeen and 284 lbs., Gately was enervated, soft, apparently narcoleptic, and on a stand in want of-schedule so inflexible that he needed 15 mg. of skilful old oxycodone hydro-chloride out of his pouch’s Tylenol bottle every three hours to guard the shakes off. He was like a very great confused kitten out on the opportunity … On offense, Gately lost his starting soil tarnish in the third game to a distended clear-eyed freshman the coach afore~ showed nearly limitless potential. Then Mrs. Gately suffered her cirrhotic hemorrhage and cerebral-house thing in late October, just preceding the midterms Gately was getting inclined to fail. Bored-eyed guys in clean cotton blew blue bubbles and loaded her in the back of a leisurely sirenless ambulance and took her before anything else to the hospital and then to a Medicaid L.T.I. not at home across the Yirrell Beach span in Pt. Shirley. … The highest gasper he ever smoked was that light of ~, a 100 out of a half-finished pack of his mother’s generics, that she left. He didn’t in like manner ever go back to B.-S.H.S. to perfect out his lockers. He never played organized ball again.

Early symptoms may get worse to boot time and this condition can exist fatal.

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