I came out of Baker Street station, and did the usual walk. Zipped passed the Pret a Manger and tourist shops; walked by Madame Tussauds, and crossed over to Nottingham Place.

It had been three months since I was last at the Princess Grace; and it was a weirdly strange but familiar feeling to walk through the sliding doors and to the front desk.

Hi, I’ve got an appointment at the Breast Institute.

The receptionist smiled, released the door, and pointed me in the direction. I walked up the flight of stairs, got to the top, pressed the button for some hand sanitiser, took a deep breath and opened the door.