The consultant who saw me described me as 'one of our star patients'. I asked him what he meant and he said that it's because I've been attending Dr Gore's (fills you with hope, yes?) clinic annually for over twenty years. This got me wondering if they'll do anything for my fiftieth, if I get there.

It's true that going at the same time each year since I was 20 (I'm now 45) has punctuated my life. I can sit in the outpatients waiting room and spot the little changes. Like the time traveller in H G Wells' novel I can see the building outside the large windows appear - one blink, new chairs for the patients - another blink, new receptionists computers - another blink, new decoration - another blink, this time the volunteers who staff the small snack bar (themselves appearing for all the world like widows of one-time patients) were wearing food hygiene hats, a constant topic of discussion for them. I can track my growing old in this place of terminal disease and it's always an opportunity to take stock.

Like the year I sat amazed looking at someone I thought I recognised. Then I realised that her brother was seated beside her and on her other side was her mother, all of whom I was, indeed, well acquanted with. In fact I shared my flat in Wimbledon with them both at different times, and was, at that time, close to the whole family.

But my old friend did not look well, she was much thinner and her face was longer. When I knew her she was a ruddy outdoor girl, enjoying her active life in the TA and wide ranging interest in history and living it. She had a 'grab 'em by the balls' attitude - I can't ever remember her wearing a dress or skirt. She wasn't interested in talking to me, neither were the others, I expect they were as disconcerted at seeing me as I was of seeing them, and felt I was intruding when I spoke to her. She did say that she'd had cancer in her womb the previous year, had been in remission but it had returned. I can't remember saying anything profound or helpful. What is there, really? My name was called, I said 'see ya' and left for my consultation. I heard a few months later that she died.

So each year, at the same time, I sit in the out patients of The Royal Marsden Hospital, looking at the others also waiting, wondering what will have happened this time next year.