The doctor turned and looked into Norm's weary, bloodshot eyes. "What's the prognosis, doc?" He slurred.
"I'm afraid it's not good, Mr. Petersen, it's not good at all. You have advanced cirrhosis of the liver."
Norm's swollen jowls wobbled as he shook his head. "Hoo boy, wait until I tell Vera. She'll kill me long before my liver does."
The doctor pinched his nose and placed a hand on Norm's shoulder. "Mr. Petersen, we've been over this. Vera' s been dead for over a year now."