In The Doctor's Waiting Room

I waited serenely for my turn,
Three people were there before me,
Each would take about ten minutes,
Before the doctor could be free,
So I had half an hour to burn.

I studied the room's silent mood,
There were two men and three women,
Four of them looked fairly alright,
One looked like she hadn't eaten,
And one man didn't look too good.

Two women were engrossed with talk,
One man fiddled with his i-phone,
The sick one did nothing at all,
But sat there in a twilight zone,
With his face pallid white like chalk.

He looked about to throw up in an urn,
And was sitting slightly slanted,
Almost ready to keel over,
And was obviously quite exhausted;
But then I left, for it was my turn.