Tenor: "Your spine looks like a 80 year old's."
Alto: "What? Are you fucking kidding me, Doctor? I'm 36. I have arthritis?"
[The harp plays some glissandos for drama, then is joined by kettle drum, beating, beating beating.]
Tenor: Yes. It's in your jaw bone too. It's degenerative arthritis. Degenerative. Degenerative.
Alto: This is ridiculous... Doctor, can you tap dance?
[Then the music shifts from pathos into a soft-shoe number. The doctor and the woman embrace, laughing.]
Tenor: I know the news I deliver is hard on your liver.
Alto: It is. It is. I have a lot to consider.
Tenor: Delivering news like this is how I ended up upriver, in this city hospital downtown. Downtown.
Alto: If you're up a river, I'm shit's creek.
Tenor: It's true! Your canoe's sprung a leak.
Alto: I'm paddling, paddling, like a trooper. What else can I do?
Tenor: What else can you do, my dear, when life's made such a blooper?