While studying creative writing, I once wrote a story with the specific intention of exploring a highly-charged, capital-I “Issue.” It was one of the worst stories I ever wrote.

Why? Because I momentarily forgot that generally, readers of fiction don’t want a preachy story in which the characters are merely vehicles for a political agenda.

And I’ll confess, I worried for a while, as I watched P.T.D. Productions’ opening night performance of Lisa Loomer’s “The Waiting Room,” that the play was committing this same sort of authorial sin.

But thanks to a second act that’s tighter and far more compelling than the first, “Room” eventually manages to transcend its political convictions and become something more affecting than a lecture.

At the play’s start, three women from different cultures and time periods gather in a contemporary doctor’s office. Victoria (Melissa Miller Farr), a Victorian era Englishwoman, suffers the physical consequences of corsets and has been diagnosed with Hysteria; Forgiveness From Heaven (Amy Griffith), a Chinese woman, keeps losing toes thanks to years of foot-binding; and Wanda (Angelle Horste), from New Jersey, learns she has breast cancer after getting all kinds of cosmetic surgery.

David J. Pagano plays Douglas, the doctor, who regularly fraternizes with Larry (David Midura), a pharmaceutical company executive, and Ken (Taylor Styes), who works for the FDA.

We see the three men conversing in clichéd, male-centric contexts - the sauna, a golf course, a massage parlor - and predictably, their slick, assured familiarity conveys Loomer’s discomfort with these patriarchal entities being "in bed” with each other when there's an obvious conflict of interest.

But this, of course, is an instance where the play’s agenda trumps its dedication to storytelling. And with the first act’s frenetic scene-hopping, featuring various locales, eras, and characters, it’s pretty impossible to feel connected to much of any of it.

The script is largely to blame for this, but in some cases, director Joe York and his cast also could have done more with the material, particularly in regard to clarity. A sex scene between Victoria and her husband (Rick Katon) is highly confusing, for instance, in terms of the encounter’s initiation and Victoria’s feelings about it (and because Victoria’s medical diagnoses relate specifically to her sexuality, the scene feels crucial); in the golf scene, the actors appear more focused on their golf swings (and the sound effect that goes with them) than what they’re saying to each other; a bar scene looked (and felt) quite stiff and awkward; and several potentially funny moments got plowed over on opening night.

Yet after intermission, things improved considerably, and each of the three female leads got moments to shine both dramatically and comedically. Horste, in particular, delivers a powerful speech about why she refuses to be rushed into making a decision about her treatment. The scene’s a searingly heartfelt highlight, and it will stop you cold.

Part of the reason the second act is so much more cohesive is that the three women come to share a hospital room, and thus primarily interact with each other and their doctor; and because Doug has his own fears and physiological vulnerability, which he eventually reveals to the women, the quartet’s responses to each other become more deeply rooted and meaningful.

The script does amble ambivalently toward its (admittedly memorable) end, making the two hour-plus production feel a bit drawn-out. But I will say this for "Room": it’s a rare play that ends up winning me over after a pretty scattershot first act.

Jenn McKee is the entertainment digital journalist for AnnArbor.com. Reach her at jennmckee@annarbor.com or 734-623-2546, and follow her on Twitter @jennmckee.