Jill: You told him? I can't believe it! I'm so... Tim, if I had wanted my advisor to know about the hysterectomy, I would have told him. How could you do this to me?
Lillian: Well, honey, don't bite his head off...
Jill: Mother, please! I don't need him to get me an extension. I don't need Wilson to tell me about menopause on the Mayflower! I don't need Heidi flaunting her perfect boobs in my face! And I most especially don't need Al comparing me to his bearded aunt! God! [storms off]
Tim: Let the mood swings begin.

Jill: Well, you're gonna have to finish it without me because I have to work on my thesis.
Lillian: Oh, that'll solve everything. Then what are you gonna hide behind when you're done with that? Jill, honey, I know you weren't expecting to have a hysterectomy at your age. And I know it must be very hard. But you've got to stop taking your anger out on other people and deal with your loss.
Jill: I am dealing with my loss, Mom. This is the way I am dealing with my loss! I'm sorry! I am very angry! I hate this! I hate this! I hate this, this empty way I feel! I hate the way I look to myself now. I hate that doctor for doing this to me! I hate my body! I hate myself! I hate everybody and everything! Oh, God!
Lillian: Oh, honey, honey.
Jill: I just feel so old and useless.

Jill: He took my ovaries?
Tim: He said there was no choice, honey.
Jill: Oh, God! I have cancer?
Tim: No, no, no, no. No, no. You have "twisted sisters."
Jill: What? What is that? What, you just mean twisted cysts?
Tim: Cysts, yes. And they're benign. So everything is good.