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It’s completely irrational. I didn’t have a stressful week. I was in a reasonable mood. Nothing of any major significance occurred.

But here I am, with these symptoms of stress and anxiety. The tight chest and shortness of breath. The feeling of dread and foreboding. The heighted emotions, tears welling up for no reason.

And the worst part: it struck while we watched Mrs Doubtfire on Friday night, forcing me to avert my eyes from every comedic catastrophe, pulling a blanket over my head like a child watching a horror movie. As I say: completely irrational.

This is a disorder of mood. It’s not built on any tangible foundation. My life is good by all accounts. Yes, there are the occasional stresses of raising children. One on the eve of his GCSE mocks, ill-prepared. The other setting out at college. Teenage angst is hard to manage sometimes.

But, overall, I have little to complain about. We have security and safety in our lives. We do not fear the ravaging assault of occupying military forces. We are not burdened by poverty, wondering about our next meal. Everything we need is within our grasp.

I cannot explain this pervasive anxiety at all, other than to attribute it to some kind of chemical imbalance in my body. Some would say it’s the impact of that extra chromosome on executive function, or of a hormone deficiency on a general neuroticism.

What can I say? I know there is no rational basis for these uncomfortable symptoms at all, but still they persist, seemingly beyond my control. Do I just accept that it is a general characteristic of this particular aneuploidy? Or might it be a trait that I may be able to tame?

Who knows! For now there is this all-pervasive sickness, rendering me immobile. These irrational — completely irrational — symptoms, pushing through me, forcing my retreat. I feel myself fizzing, as if I might just explode. Need to calm these nerves, and fast.