I was back in that same narrow hospital corridor where I’d waited to hear the news about my diagnosis. This time I had an appointment with Carys, my nurse specialist. Although it seemed like a lifetime later, it was just two days since my last visit, and in that time I had finally made up my mind about my choice of treatment. Far from making a rational decision after weighing up all the pros and cons, it had been a messy, emotional business, and in the end I had abandoned information and logic and gone for a verdict based on my uncertainties and a kind of sixth sense. I had opted for a ‘lump-ec-tomy.’