But the place was unexpectedly hushed, with about 25 people waiting – some very old, one a young child, some glum, most calm, with only one swaying and moaning under her breath. Names were called, consulting room doors opened and shut. Sicker patients lay on trolleys in bays with curtains. I was lucky, I reckoned, to be here on a day and at a time when the atmosphere was bustling, but without any mayhem. I settled in for many hours, my fingers swollen like fat sausages, but not in howling agony, not an emergency. How long would it take?