A few days ago I was at the Professor's, at the beautifully named London Breast Institute, getting my boobs felt for the nth time, checking out some paranoid fears that had been building about recurrence. Which could have sent life generally, plus a number of serious plans that are forming, into a spin.
He thought it was nothing. But to reassure, or doublecheck, he brought forward the blood tests I will have done in March, at the year one anniversary of diagnosis. These tests would tell him whether or not certain markers in my blood were unnaturally high thereby suggesting a return of cancer.
He seemed particularly relaxed about life as he waved me off, saying he would write to me this week but the test results will be in on Monday and if anything was up, in both senses of the word, he'd be straight in touch by telephone.
So all day my mind has been looping back to the thought of my phone going, but the only call I've had on it all day was a friend who'd left her phone unlocked and 'remote-dialled' me with her handbag whilst I was in the shower this morning.
It's now nearly 6pm and I've not heard a thing. So I think I can relax now.
Which means I'm finally a little more health-confident.
And finally ready to do something which will send us on our way to healthier, happier lives.
More in the next few days - it's gonna be good.