None of this was supposed to happen. At 38, I wasn’t supposed to lie on my back in the E.R. on a late December morning and be told by a teary radiation oncology resident that the pain I’d been having for two months — that I’d been assured was from having a weak core after months of chemo — was actually from a tumor that had devoured my L2 vertebra. John wasn’t supposed to have to hold me up on the toilet. Put my pants on for me. Do Christmas Eve for the children without me. I’m not supposed to be thinking about where he will sit and hold my hand as I take my last breath.

I got stabbed in the neck with a light tube during a wrestling “death match” two years ago. It was scary. I thought I was dying: your life does flash before your eyes.

I fell off a ladder, landed on my back, got up and was fine.

In a helicopter crash in Wyoming in 2005. My cameraman broke his back and both legs; the pilot broke his back. The helicopter didn’t catch fire, so I’m still here today.

Billie Jean King. She’s the reason tennis is such an equal sport in terms of opportunity for women.

Firm, fair, fun.

When I was 17, I was offered a tennis scholarship at the University of Virginia. I wish I had been brave enough to take it.

That Scottish tennis has failed to capitalise on the successes of Jamie and Andy.

When Sean Connery died. He was a big tennis fan – a big Andy fan – and I met him a few times.

Getting my teeth done. I had veneers and it took 18 months.