Yes, I am prudish. In fitting rooms of clothing stores I always check whether the curtains are properly closed. Anyone who knows my clothing style a little, knows that after the loss of a charming décolletage, I hardly have to buy new clothes. My dear love has often joked about my prudishness, although his twinkling eyes always contained pride and relief about the exclusivity that comes with it.

Anyone who develops a condition that manifests itself somewhere between shoulders and knees, would do well to leave prudishness at home. I also have to take off my clothes almost every working day for radiotherapy. In front of a changing team of healthcare professionals. Of course, they no longer look surprised. They are clearly used to it and that makes it a little easier.

It is more difficult for me at ultrasounds, that have already taken place several times during this long treatment process. An assistant calls my name, asks me to change into the dressing room between the hall and the consultation room, invites me in and makes me lay down on the treatment couch. A shabby towel is draped over me and before the assistant leaves the room through another door, I’m told the radiologist will be there soon. Shivering I wait alone – what feels like quite a long time – with my eyes fixed on that other door that apparently can open any moment. Secretly longing for a combination of a burqa and a quilted ski suit. Only when the specialist comes in, greets me warmly and starts working professionally with the ultrasound device, do I relax a bit.

I admit that during that waiting time I once quickly jumped off the treatment couch and sprinted back to the dressing room. Just checking whether the door through which I entered and which opens onto the public areas is really locked…..