I’VE just received a letter informing me that I have to have another MRI scan - and I am terrified.

Yes, it is great that I am progressing in my treatment and being looked after by the NHS, but my claustrophobia is overwhelming that positivity. The type of scan that I have means that I am inserted into the scanner completely, and even writing that sentence has brought me out in a cold sweat.

Just the thought of slowly moving into the machine, into a narrow space where, if I open my eyes, I will see the plastic roof of the tunnel just a few inches from my face, is utterly petrifying and panic-inducing. I want to immediately thrash out and move, to escape, to get away and to end the ordeal immediately.

I find the only way that I can cope is to close my eyes tight, no matter what, and to repeatedly count to 60 in my head. The kind MRI operators tell me how many minutes each scan will take – oh yes, there is always more than one to endure – and I then take a few deep breaths and take some temporary solace in the mantra of the numbers. 

I am not sure how long I have been frightened like this. I know that I can’t play with my daughter under a duvet without there being a gap that I can see, and I am not keen on lifts for obvious reasons.

The only horror film which has ever scared me is The Descent, because it’s about, in part, some women who get trapped whilst caving.

I have had some very embarrassing moments as a result of my phobia. One was a near-hysterical episode when the Other Half and I paid a visit to Bodmin Jail in Cornwall, already an incredibly creepy place, where some terrible deeds were committed many years ago.

As we descended into its darker recesses, and took in some of the smaller rooms, I felt my pulse quicken and my brain demanded that I get out. Immediately. 

But my worst public panic took place when, about a decade ago, my friend and I were lured into a horror maze at Madame Tussauds under false pretences. They were trialling it as a possible ‘fun’ addition to the Chamber of Horrors.

I’ll admit I absolutely lost the plot when, in the dark of the ‘dungeon’, a man with a ‘chainsaw’ approached through strobe lighting to try to corner me.

I vividly remember shouting at him in utter blind panic before grabbing him, pushing him aside and bolting for the fresh air. I don’t think I have ever felt upset like it before or since.