This was funnier in my head.

The nurse looked around, wriggled around on her chair and tapped her fake, gaudy nail on the counter she was sitting behind. She stopped tapping, cocked her head, narrowed her eyes, listening intently to nothing in particular, then dismissed it. She picked up a sheaf of papers that were spread out in front of her and shuffled them into a neat stack. She put them aside.
FnordShe picked an invisible speck of dust off her thigh and flicked it away. She imagined it landing on the counter slightly to her right, so she wiped it away. Twice. She absentmindedly tried to rub away a coffee stain that had been there since 1998.
FnordIt was silent. So silent that the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her, usually inaudible, was sharp and loud and made her twitch her scalp imperceptibly every second, again and again, but at the same time the silence between the ticks and the tocks was so deep and oppressive that it was tangible; it pressed upon her like a water sodden cloak. She looked around and shot hate-filled darts at the clock with her eyes. It didn't work, it kept ticking and not ticking. Tocking and not tocking.
FnordIt had finally happened. She'd lost her patients.