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Double whammy

I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘double whammy’ before – clearly further evidence of my Americanisation (as is the use of S instead of Z) but it seems to fit.

Erik was playing with the dog. This usually involves a toy and her chasing and being chased by him across the length of the loft. They were playing with her tug toy, a rope with a ball at the end of it. It’s a bit like a mace, but without the spikes or the suit of armour. Erik was running, Storm was chasing and Erik threw the rope at me to catch. I caught it on the nose. It hurt like hell and I started crying. I’m not sure if the tears were really pain-related, my period starting or a bit of post-Fresno blubbing. I was just getting over it when the phone rang. It was my brother. Mum was going to see a specialist today. I knew this, she’d told me about it, how she was going for tests on her back, how she was hoping they’d find out what was wrong with it. Jolly good, except it turns out they were testing her brain, not her back. Easy mistake of course. Today we found out that her back is showing early signs of Alzheimer’s.