All the jabs, cannulas, radiotracers and whatnot troubled me none. But the 18 minutes of the PET scan, with nothing happening save for the bench on which I lay moving (ever so slowly) through the scanner, were eternal. Once again I was on the verge of breaking down, giving in and interrupting the process. Of course it’s psychosomatic – there’s no pain, you just wait motionlessly while the time drags on … and on … and on – but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. To think I’m in for a few dozen radiotherapy sessions like this, shorter, ten-minute ones, but with the claustrophobic mask on my face … the only hope is in the old saying that one gets used to everything.