He sits on a black leather coach in the waiting room. Doctors and nurses walk quickly by in blue and green scrubs. The left side of his hair is in disarray, and his suit jacket is wrinkled. In one had, he clenches the Holy Bible, in the other, a dead Blackberry and a picture of his wife and kids. He stares blankly at the grey-green wall, his eyes twitching slightly, as a frowning man in surgical scrubs and a lab coat approaches.