Send Me No Flowers

Synopsis: At one of his many visits to his doctor, hypochondriac George Kimball mistakes a dying man's diagnosis for his own and believes he only has about two more weeks to live. Wanting to take care of his wife Judy, he doesn't tell her and tries to find her a new husband. When he finally does tell her, she quickly finds out he's not dying at all (while he doesn't) and she believes it's just a lame excuse to hide an affair, so she decides to leave him.
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance
Director(s): Norman Jewison
Production: MCA Universal Home Video
  1 win & 1 nomination.
Rotten Tomatoes:
100 min

"The desire to take medicine

is perhaps the greatest feature

which distinguishes man from animals."

Feeling low?

Tossing and turning all night?

Having trouble going beddy-bye?

Know what?|You've got a headache.

Try the new painkiller Nipsarin, the|pill 9 out of 10 doctors prescribe,

and get instant relief.

Painful sinuses got you down?

Nasal passages clogging up on you?

Don't give it another thought! Try,|new doctor-prescribed Nauseadrine,

with the new,|magic ingredient N.U. 202,

and smash your troubles away.

Tummy feel crummy? You bet it does!

And there you go,|taking those rotten tablets.

Nothing happens,|they just lay there.

Now watch wonder-working|Garbagine go to work.

See how much faster the new-formula,|better-than-ever

Garbagine tablets are|than that no-good brand.

George, breakfast!

Good morning, Arnold.

Mrs. Kimball?

Hi, Ernie. - Isn't it|a lovely morning? - Oh, it is cute.

Yoghurt, carrot juice, cottage cheese,

organic honey,|non-fat, and eggs, fertile.

The Fishers on Maple St. Got|a new car today. Only it's 2nd hand.

Don't breathe a word of this,|but you know the Bullards?

Now, remember,|don't spread this around.


Hey Nash, it's Vito, the cleaner.

Hey Daddy-O, I got your cleaning.


Need a hand, Mrs. Kimball?

Judy?|- I heard you, you said "ooh."

Doesn't it concern you,|I have this pain in my chest?

I'm always concerned.

It's just that I've had such|a morning. You would not believe it.

I called Dr. Morrissey.|I'm going to have a complete check-up.

It's probably nothing serious.|- But you just had one 2 weeks ago!

In 2 weeks a body can turn on you.|Just like that.

While it's turning, eat breakfast.|- Not until Ralph looks me over.

At least have a piece of toast.|It won't show up in the X-ray.

It's roughage.|- I don't know why I bother to cook.

Well, maybe one piece of toast.

Have I got something to tell you!|Guess what.

The Bullards are getting a divorce.

The Bullards?|- The milkman told me. - Who are they?

They live on the next block.|I don't know them,

but I expected it.

You did? Although you don't know them?

I know all about them.|Marjorie told me at bridge.

That poor thing! There must be|really something wrong with him.

How do you know? Maybe|there's something wrong with her.

Oh, no. She's very nice.|I met her at the supermarket.

She may be nice at the supermarket,|but not nice at home.

You know... - No butter!|It's loaded with cholesterol.

2 years ago you'd never heard|of cholesterol. Now it's a big thing!

Laugh if you want, but men my age|are dropping like flies!

Do you read the obituary page?|It's enough to scare you to death.

Then why do you read it?|- Should I bury my head in the sand?

No. But why do you think you have|every disease you hear about?

What do you mean by that?

Come on! Remember|when they operated on Whitey Ford?

You thought|you had bone chips in your elbow.

There definitely was pain there.

Your hypochondria's showing.

I am not a hypochondriac.|Listen,

someday when I'm lying in hospital,|then you'll change your tune.

You better hurry,|you'll miss your train. Bye!

What's today?|- Friday.

Maybe I better cancel lunch|with Winston Burr, the way I feel...

Darling,|I think you could risk a cup of tea.

I don't suppose a cup of weak tea|would hurt me, whatever's wrong.

Your call to Mrs. Bullard, Mr. Burr.|- Thank you. - Bullard?

Is she the one getting a divorce?|- Yeah. How did you know?

We have the same milkman.|- Watch this,

the Winston Burr patented procedure|for potential divorcees:

Hello, Linda.

Winston. Winny Burr.

Linda, I heard the horrible news.|Well, I'm just heartbroken.

Yeah. I always considered|you and David my best friends.

If there's anything I can do,|you mustn't hesitate to call me.

Yeah. The next couple of weeks|are going to be very tough.

You'll be... lonely.

Yeah. Say, why don't we have|a quiet little drink together tonight?

Maybe I could think of something|to bring you and David back together.

Okay, I'll pick you up at 8 o'clock.|Tonight. How's that?

Alright, little darling.|And... cheer up.

You are a 100%,|non-shrinkable, no-money-back ratfink!

Yeah, but a bachelor ratfink.

I'll see you at the club tomorrow.|Good luck with your doctor.

Check, please!

Ooh boy, am I pooped!

I made 8 house calls this morning.

Why in blazes didn't I specialize,|so I could get some sleep?

Like those lucky allergists.

They keep hours just like a banker,|and make the same kind of money, too.

I know one of them, built a|$100,000 house on ragweed alone.

When the pollen count goes up,|just like the stock market...

Ralph, I have this pain...|- Thank goodness it's Friday.

I'm going fishing this weekend.|A friend of mine has a cabin cruiser.

Gastroenterologist. He'd look|at anything but gall bladders.

He is absolutely cleaning up.

You'll be on a boat the whole weekend?|- That's right.

Can't you be reached in an emergency?|- Emergency?

What emergency?

No, 90% of my patients have|absolutely nothing wrong with them.

And the 10% that have|something seriously wrong,

I send them to a specialist.

Now, what is the trouble?|- What?

Oh, well, I have this pain...|- Can you show me

where it is? - Right here. It hurts|like the Devil when I press it.

Then don't press it.|Now George,

tell me, is it a sharp pain,|is it a dull pain,

or does it grip, like a vice?|- Yes.

No. Pick one.

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Julius J. Epstein

Julius J. Epstein (August 22, 1909 – December 30, 2000) was an American screenwriter, who had a long career, best remembered for his screenplay – written with his twin brother, Philip, and Howard E. Koch – of the film Casablanca (1942), for which the writers won an Academy Award. It was adapted from an unpublished play, Everybody Comes to Rick's, written by Murray Bennett and Joan Alison. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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